Chapter 44: The Mayor of Vurman
Zaryter tugged at Leornars' coat like a restless child.
"Do that crap again," Leornars muttered without even looking at him, "and you'll find out what gravity does to idiots."
Zaryter froze, his hand sliding away.
Before the tension could stretch further, Stacian's calm voice cut in. "My lord, may I ask you something?"
"Oh? And what's that?" Leornars replied, absently tugging his coat free from Zaryter's grip.
"For crying out loud, you're a dragonkin," he turned back to glare at Zaryter, "aren't you supposed to fly or do something useful for once?"
"I'm a Dragonian, not dragonkin," Zaryter corrected indignantly. "There's a difference."
"Seems like lizards to me," Zhylyena muttered, Zyhier nodding beside her.
"Oh, shush, you undead mutt!" Zaryter snapped back.
"Hah? Wanna take this somewhere else?" Zhylyena's grin widened, eager.
Their glares sparked like flint until Leornars finally pinched the bridge of his nose. "Both of you—enough. One more word and I'll throw you both off."
His voice carried the weight of finality, silencing them immediately.
"I swear," he groaned, rubbing his forehead, "one day I'm going to die from a migraine, thanks to you two roosters in a cage. Give me a break…"
Stacian and Zyhier chuckled quietly at his exasperation.
Leornars' eyes narrowed. "Less laughing and more scolding them, damn it."
Still, his annoyance softened slightly. "At least I managed to replenish my mana. Otherwise, someone here would be a broken nightmare on the ground."
Stacian cleared her throat. "My question, my lord…"
"Yes, yes," Leornars waved her on. "Out with it."
"I was wondering how we might conquer—or rather, connect with—the people of Vurnam."
"I had the same thought," Leornars admitted. "I'll think of something on the way there."
Ahead, the city walls of Vurnam rose into view, tall and imposing. Zaryter's eyes lit up at the sight, but when he turned back, the others were already bent over the map, marking routes and discussing positions.
"Wow," Zaryter muttered sarcastically. "That's how you ruin a trip."
"Stacian, remind me—if Zaryter dies, don't turn him into an undead."
She nodded gravely, while Zaryter's jaw dropped.
Moments later, they descended.
The instant Leornars' feet touched the ground, his aura bled outward—the Aura of Depravity. The effect was immediate: guards, knights, and even civilians were crushed beneath the weight of despair. It hollowed their courage, nullified their will, and left only fear.
"What… what is that?" someone stammered.
"Is that… an evil god!?"
People screamed, running into houses. Knights scrambled to form a defense at the gates, but none dared move closer.
Leornars stepped down from the undead wyvern, flanked by his followers. When he noticed the terrified faces staring back at him, he stopped.
Within their eyes, they weren't seeing him—they saw a monster: a figure wreathed in black mana, eyes glowing red, his presence looming like a serpent coiled to strike.
"Master," Stacian whispered, "your aura… that's what they see."
"…I see." Leornars' gaze softened slightly, realizing the terror he projected.
---
Far away, in the mayor's office, panic spread.
"The rumors… Leornars," the mayor stammered. He recalled whispers from Lurtra—of devastation, of merciless judgment. His hands shook as a knock rattled the door.
"WHAT?!" he roared.
"Some people… are here to see you," his secretary stammered.
"Do they have an appointment?!"
"N-No, sir…"
"Then send them away!"
The secretary's meek apologies trailed into silence. Moments later, the mayor stormed from his office, irritation boiling over. "Well? Did they leave?"
"Yes, sir. They said their names were not very important."
"Not important?" he scoffed. "Probably a thief or a slave trader. I could use that… Yes, when Leornars arrives, I'll say I captured a criminal. I might be forgiven…"
His mind spun with schemes until his secretary's next words froze him.
"He had… white hair, crimson eyes, and skin pale as snow."
The mayor's pupils shrank. "…What did his companions call him?"
"Lord Leornars."
The mayor fell to his knees. "Tell every knight—escort him here! Do not provoke him!"
---
Later, in the mayor's chamber, the man's hands trembled as he poured tea for his guest. Leornars sat calmly, Stacian at his right, Zaryter at his left, and Zhylyena looming behind.
The mayor's grip faltered. The tea spilled, splashing across Leornars' trousers.
Silence.
Leornars glanced at the stain, then at the mayor, and sighed.
Before the mayor could even reach for his handkerchief, Bellian appeared in a flash, his fist driving the mayor into the floor.
"You dare touch the Lord?!" Bellian's voice cracked like thunder.
The mayor groaned, blood pooling in his mouth.
Zhylyena snapped her fingers, her cold smile flashing.
Leornars' voice was icy. "We have much to discuss. Demi-human smuggling. Drug trades. Corruption." His aura surged, the room bending under the pressure. In the mayor's vision, a colossal serpent opened its jaws, ready to consume him whole.
"The age of revolution has already begun," Leornars whispered, each word a dagger of frost. "You will join… or you will fall. Pathetic insect."
The mayor collapsed, nose bleeding, heart pounding like a war drum.
Even after Leornars and his entourage departed, the room seemed drenched in that oppressive presence. No matter where he looked, the mayor could feel those crimson eyes still watching him—those words echoing in his skull.
The age of revolution has begun.