Paragon of Destruction

Just opening the door to the treasury took Lord Sevaril some time, and Arran could tell that the door was protected by some sort of magical mechanism, though he could not see exactly how it worked.

That Lord Sevaril bothered with such defenses even here, in his own tower, could only mean one of two things. Either he did not trust his own men, or he had such treasures to protect that doors did not suffice to protect them.

Arran hoped it was the latter. If so, perhaps there would be something good to be had.

Of course, he wouldn’t be too greedy. Even if Lord Sevaril had said Arran could pick an item of his choice, he wasn’t so naive as to think he could just take anything.

As Arran thought about how to best handle the situation, Lord Sevaril finally finished disabling whatever magical defenses protected his treasury, and the massive steel door suddenly swung open.

"Follow me," Lord Sevaril said in an eager voice. Without waiting for Arran to respond, he stepped through the doorway.

Arran did as the man said, following him into the large chamber that lay beyond the steel door, and despite his apprehension toward Lord Sevaril, he found himself impressed at what he saw.

The treasury held no trinkets like gold and jewelry, nor was it filled with numerous pieces of weapons and other gear. Instead, perhaps two dozen items were carefully placed on pedestals along the sides of the wall, each of them given ample space within the chamber.

At once, Arran understood that this was not a display of mere wealth, but one of power. Even without knowing what the items on display actually did, he understood that each of them would be a precious artifact — something rare enough for Lord Sevaril to consider a treasure worthy of display.

"These are the rarest and most powerful treasures I have collected over the past centuries," Lord Sevaril said, pride clear on his face. "Every piece you see is unique and priceless."

Arran frowned but said nothing. Pointing out that the man had just traded away one of these supposedly priceless pieces seemed unwise.

"This one might be of interest to you," Lord Sevaril said as he walked to one of the pedestals, upon which lay a rather plain-looking spear. "A mage can steadily pour Essence into it, and then release it all at once in a single attack. With this, even a novice has a chance of defeating a Master."

Seeing Arran’s covetous expression, Lord Sevaril chuckled. "Of course, it takes time to fill it with Essence, and each use completely drains it. So it’s only useful when you have time to prepare, and against multiple strong opponents, it will do you little good."

Arran nodded, slightly disappointed. Although it made sense that the spear would work that way, it seemed like an item that would only rarely be useful. In real battles there usually was little time to prepare, after all.

Lord Sevaril moved on to the next pedestal, which held what looked to be a small jet-black necklace. "This is one of the more unusual items I have," he said. "The user can channel his own Essence into the necklace, and the necklace will transform it into Mind Essence, causing uncontrollable fear in those nearby."

At once, Arran was reminded of the eyeless creature, and knowing just how powerful the creature’s aura of dread was, he was extremely interested in an item that could achieve the same effect.

"Could you demonstrate it for me?" he asked.

"Of course," Lord Sevaril said. He took the necklace in his hands, then put it on while looking expectantly at Arran.

Several moments passed without anything happening, but then, Arran began to feel a faint sense of fear. Yet that was all it was — a vaguely uncomfortable feeling. Maybe it was because he had experienced the eyeless creature’s far stronger aura of dread, or maybe it was because he had been terrified ever since Lord Sevaril walked into the Golden Hall, but either way, the effect was negligible.

"Is that it?" he asked, underwhelmed by the demonstration.

Lord Sevaril seemed startled for a moment, but then, he let out a laugh as he placed the necklace back on the pedestal. "It seems you have a strong will."

"What about that one?" Arran asked, gesturing to the next item.

This time, he knew exactly what it was — a starmetal sword, much like the one he carried in his bag. Yet although he knew what the item was, he hoped that perhaps Lord Sevaril would be able to tell him more about its uses. So far, all he had discovered about his own was that it was heavy, sturdy, and razor-sharp.

"Ah! That’s my most recent acquisition," Lord Sevaril said. "It’s a sword made out of the metal of a fallen star. When a mage is struck with this weapon, the sword will siphon some of the Essence in his body, and with each defeated enemy, the weapon will grow stronger."

With a laugh, he added, "But this one is still young. It will require thousands of enemies to reach its full potential, and I’m afraid I don’t see many battles here in the city."

Arran nodded thoughtfully. The description matched what Lord Jiang had once told him, that his own starmetal sword would grow more powerful as he used it. So far, he had seen no changes in the weapon, but perhaps it simply required more use.

"But let’s move on to the next item," Lord Sevaril continued, walking over to another pedestal. On it sat a bone-white rod, which Lord Sevaril carefully picked up, then handed to Arran. "Hold it, and you will soon discover its powers."

Arran took the rod in his hands and held it for several seconds, but nothing happened. "I don’t feel anything," he finally said.

"Tell me the sky is red." Lord Sevaril smiled as he spoke, but there was something odd to the smile, as if he was up to something.

"What?" Arran gave him a puzzled look.

"Do it," Lord Sevaril said, and this time, the tone of his voice suggested that it wasn’t a request.

"The sky is..." Suddenly, Arran found himself unable to speak. No matter how hard he tried, it was as if his mouth was unable to form the final word of the sentence. He gave Lord Sevaril a panicked stare, and a smile emerged on the man’s face.

"This artifact has the unique ability to prevent those who hold it from lying," Lord Sevaril said.

"I don’t think I have much use for—" Arran began, panic rising in him as he finally understood Lord Sevaril’s intentions.

"The food," Lord Sevaril interrupted, his smile suddenly gone. "Who gave it to you?"

Arran’s first instinct was to drop the rod and run, but he knew that he had no hope of escape — not with Lord Sevaril standing right next to him. And from the man’s expression, it was clear that not answering wasn’t an option, either.

"I don’t know his true name," Arran said after a moment’s hesitation. "But he is powerful beyond compare."

The words were true, after a fashion. After the many lies Panurge had told him, Arran had little doubt that the name ’Panurge’ wasn’t the self-proclaimed god’s true identity, but his power was beyond question.

Lord Sevaril raised an eyebrow. "Why did he give it to you?"

Arran swallowed hard. Then, carefully choosing his words, he said, "He gave it to me after he asked me to join his cause and become his apprentice."

Even if the rod prevented him from telling lies, it seemed it had no such effect on misleading truths, and Arran only barely managed to stop himself from sighing in relief. It seemed all hope was not yet lost.

"His apprentice?" Lord Sevaril gave Arran an appraising look. "And this cause of his... what is it?"

This time, Arran found no way to twist the truth to his advantage. Instead, he decided to attempt to awe Lord Sevaril with a straightforward fact. "He seeks to defeat the Academy."

"The Academy?" Instantly, a look of shock appeared on Lord Sevaril’s face. "He’s a servant of Chaos?!"

"I wouldn’t call him a servant," Arran replied, forcing a smile. Although he was surprised that Lord Sevaril knew of Chaos, there was nothing for it now but to push the advantage. "If Chaos has a master in this world, he is it."

At those words, the shock on Lord Sevaril’s face turned into outright terror. He did not reply, instead grabbing for the rod and ripping it from Arran’s hands.

Then, to Arran’s astonishment, he bowed deeply.

"I apologize for my insolence," the white-haired man said in a trembling voice. "Had I known you were..." His voice trailed off as he stared at Arran, eyes filled with fear.

"You will not speak of this to anyone," Arran said. Finally free from the rod, he added, "Or my master will know."

"I won’t tell anyone," Lord Sevaril replied in a weak voice. "I swear it on my life."

Arran glanced at the rod in the man’s hands, then slowly nodded. It seemed that at least for the moment, Lord Sevaril had no intention of breaking his word.

"Now then," Arran said. "I believe you intended to show me the rest of your treasury?"

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