Chapter 28: The Message in the Night
The quiet hum of the inn's atmosphere contrasted sharply with the turbulent thoughts swirling in Mage Alarcus's mind. Sitting by a window, he gazed out into the vast night sky, his eyes tracing the stars as they twinkled in the distance. His mind wandered to the lost memories of his village, the family he once had, and the friends who had been taken from him by the monstrous force that had ravaged his homeland. The pain of their loss was still fresh, a constant companion that fueled the fire of vengeance burning in his chest.
A sudden fluttering sound pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned just in time to see something streaking toward him at high speed. Before he could react, the bird—a sleek, dark crow—barreled into the room, startling him. The bird landed on a nearby table with a flutter, and to Alarcus's astonishment, it opened its beak and began to speak in a clear, youthful voice.
"This is a golem I created to deliver messages," the crow said. "I might sound young, but I am actually in my 80s. I am the Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales."
Alarcus blinked in disbelief. This was unlike anything he had ever seen. A golem delivering a message? Such magical technology was beyond anything his mind could comprehend, and yet here it was, unfolding before him.
"My good friend Garrett told me about your situation," the crow continued. "He mentioned your desire to avenge your people and your fight against a black monster. I've decided to help you."
Alarcus's heart skipped a beat. Garrett? The name of the man who had brought the legendary Buster Sword to life, the one who had spoken so highly of the Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales? Was it truly him?
The crow's voice carried on, unfazed by the whirlwind of thoughts in Alarcus's head.
"I already have something in mind for you, called Zetsuei," the crow explained. "But it is incomplete. I will give you the unfinished model and send you on a journey to gather the materials for its final form. Once you meet me outside Duke Roland's city, we can begin. But I have one condition—once you've avenged your people, you will serve me as my bodyguard and assistant. If you choose to accept."
The crow paused, and Alarcus's mind raced. This was an opportunity of a lifetime—an offer to work with the Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales, the very creator of divine weapons, someone capable of bringing legendary creations to life. The possibility of revenge against the creature that had destroyed his village was tantalizing. Yet, the price was steep: serving as the blacksmith's bodyguard and assistant in exchange for the power to exact vengeance.
The crow, having delivered its message, flapped its wings and flew back into the night, vanishing just as quickly as it had come.
Alarcus sat there in stunned silence, the weight of the offer sinking in. His hands trembled slightly, both from excitement and uncertainty. To work with a man of such extraordinary abilities, to wield a weapon like Zetsuei—his path to vengeance was now clearer than ever. But the choice was not easy. Would he accept the offer, with all its unknowns, and embark on this dangerous journey?
As the night wore on, Alarcus found himself staring at the spot where the crow had vanished, his mind consumed by thoughts of revenge, destiny, and the price of power.
The crow's voice echoed in his mind: "Once you have your vengeance, you will serve me as my bodyguard and assistant."
The offer seemed too good to be true, and yet, part of Alarcus wanted to believe it. His blood had been spilled for vengeance, and this mysterious figure offered him a chance to get it. But at what cost?
His mind raced as he began to pace the room, his boots clicking against the wooden floor in a rhythmic pattern. What if it was all a trap? What if he was walking straight into a scheme that would bind him forever to a man whose true motives were far from noble? Could he trust the Blacksmith? Could he trust the words of a voice carried by a mechanical bird?
But then, the thought of his family, their smiles, their lives cut short—he couldn't let that go. The blacksmith had promised him the means to avenge them. And deep down, Alarcus knew that without this opportunity, without this weapon, he'd be powerless. All those years spent learning magic, fighting, honing his skills—it wouldn't be enough.
He stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts racing. Do I really want to be someone's assistant?
The very idea of servitude stung, but revenge had always been his endgame. And yet, he wasn't sure if that was enough anymore.
Outside the window, the wind picked up, rustling the trees and carrying the faint scent of rain. It was as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for his decision.
Alarcus could feel his pulse quicken as his gaze fell once again to the dark horizon. He knew what was at stake. But was he willing to serve this blacksmith just for the chance at vengeance?
For the first time in a long while, he felt torn.
He couldn't ignore the lure of power, of gaining a divine weapon that might help him get the revenge he craved. But was that enough? Was he really willing to sacrifice his freedom, to walk down a path that bound him to someone else's will?
What happens after the vengeance? Alarcus asked himself. What do I become then?
The minutes stretched on, and still, he couldn't make up his mind. His fingers gripped the edge of the window sill as the night's chill seeped into his bones.
Alarcus took one last look at the dark sky before turning back toward the table, his hand hovering over the letter from the crow. He couldn't ignore the call of fate, but was he truly ready to answer it? Was he prepared to become the servant of a man he didn't even know?
The seconds ticked by like hours.
Suddenly, the door to his room creaked open behind him. He hadn't heard anyone approach, but there was a familiar presence in the doorway. It was his old companion, Darius, the swordsman who had stuck by him through thick and thin.
"Alarcus…" Darius's voice was low and cautious, his eyes studying Alarcus's back as the mage stood motionless, lost in thought. "What's going on? You've been like this for hours."
Alarcus slowly turned, his face set in determination. The decision had been made.
"I've been offered a chance," Alarcus said quietly, his voice steady but full of emotion. "A chance to get what I've been after all these years."
Darius raised an eyebrow. "You mean revenge?"
Alarcus nodded. "Yes, but more than that. A divine weapon... Zetsuei. I can feel it, Darius. This is my only chance."
Darius took a step forward, concern etching his features. "And what's the cost?"
"The Blacksmith wants me to serve him as his bodyguard. Once I get my vengeance."
Darius stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "I know what you've been through... But think carefully. Is that really the kind of man you want to owe everything to?"
Alarcus didn't respond right away. He couldn't. His eyes narrowed in thought, and as he stood there, he felt a weight settle in his chest. The question still lingered, unanswered.
Would he take the chance? Would he serve the Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales in exchange for the means to avenge his family and friends? The future stretched out before him, uncertain and full of possibility.
Finally, Alarcus looked back at Darius. "I've made my choice."
Darius nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Then you'd better be ready for whatever comes next."