"Which is?" Azrael asked.
"Revenge!" Rodrick spat the word as if it were a mouthful of broken glass.
"Haha... how typical of you, Rodrick. haha..." Azrael laughed, swaying back and forth on the edge of the silk-covered bed. The sound was bright and entirely discordant with the heavy atmosphere of the room.
Rodrick didn't reply. He remained anchored to the floor, staring at Azrael with a deadpan expression that bordered on self-pity. He was dealing with a man who found the annihilation of a bloodline amusing.
As the silence stretched, Rodrick began to wonder if he hadn't just traded a cruel master for a mentally unstable one.
Azrael's laughter died down as abruptly as it had begun. He became unnervingly still, his face falling into a blank mask. To Rodrick, it looked like a lapse in sanity.
In reality, the inner state of Azrael's mind was a hive of activity.
"So, what do you think, White?" Azrael asked internally. "He's pretty good if you ask me."
"He is broken and normal," Master White replied, his voice a cool vibration in the back of Azrael's skull. "A man with nothing to lose is the most efficient tool. He is easier to manipulate because his goals are simple. So, I agree with the choice."
"But, Azrael," Master White continued, "what is this talk about revenge? We never planned to wage war against any Sylvanus nobility. It's an unnecessary variable."
"Oh.. It's just about deeper corruption, White." Azrael countered, a mental smirk echoing in his thoughts. "If we fulfill the one singular desire consuming his soul, he would become a dog with no need for a leash. Gratitude takes hold of him as a far stronger collar than any iron shackle. He will worship us because we listened to his prayers of revenge when every god in Terralon turned a deaf ear. He won't just be bound by a contract at that time; he will tie his own soul to ours, even if we try to discard him."
Suddenly, the System interjected.
[For that, there is no need to go through the trouble of manual revenge, Azrael. If you grant him a Legacy, he will automatically become a being you can alter at will. If you wish for a devotee, you need only command it. His memories can be erased, rewritten, or purged until you are the only 'God' he remembers.]
"Now that you mention it, System, we could," Azrael mused. "But I still choose not to."
Master White was intrigued by Azrael's choice. "Why opt for the roundabout path of vengeance when the System offers a direct easy rewrite?"
"Because if we alter his memories to make him like we want, then he will become someone who will only follow our orders to a fault with no unique personality of his own. I don't want 'yes-men,' White," Azrael's mental voice took on an ambitious edge. "If I rewrite his mind, he becomes a puppet. When I ask for his submission for 'time unknown,' I mean it."
"I want a subordinate of value. A man who can think, adapt, and hate on my behalf. I want an absolutely obedient slave who is also an intelligent commander. I also want a cannon fodder who will die at my command."
"And all of that is possible if we just grant him his wish, then filling the void where his revenge used to be with our own will, we can make him do anything for us by his own accord. Don't you think, White!? Hehe..by his own accord.. ha.."
Azrael's face in the real world briefly twisted into a crazed, wide-eyed expression before snapping back to calm. Rodrick, still kneeling, caught the flicker. His heart hammered against his ribs. Definitely insane, he thought, a fresh chill crawling up his spine.
"Also, White!" Azrael added, poking at Master White's curious nature. "Don't you want to know the real story behind the fall of Baron Rodrick?"
Master White sighed, a mental sound of resignation. "Very well. We will follow your arrangement. But hide your craziness, Azrael; you are supposed to be the 'good' one between us."
"Hahaha!" Azrael laughed out loud, startling Rodrick once more.
"What about you, System?" [I am only here to offer suggestions and optimize your path, Azrael. The choice of methodology remains yours.]
Azrael nodded to the empty air, then turned his focus back to the man on the floor. "Okay, Rodrick. I agree to your condition. Revenge shall be yours."
Rodrick's lips curled into a smile. It wasn't a smile of joy; it was an ugly thing spawned from the thought of blood.
He replied in simple words. "Thank you." Which carried more emotions than just two syllables.
"Now," Azrael leaned forward, his chin resting on his palm. "Tell me the true story. The treasure, the Viscount, the Marquis. I want all the details."
Rodrick took a shaky breath. "Honestly, to this day, even I don't fully understand how it all happened. All my tragedy started and ended in less than a month. It all started with a hunting trip. I was out with my personal guards. And on our way back, we discovered an unusual cave."
He paused, his eyes glazing over as he revisited the moment. "Inside, we found crystals. Enos crystals, but unlike any used as currency. They weren't the common sky-blue; they were deep dark purple. The energy coming off them was so concentrated and condensed that it made the air feel like liquid."
"I ordered my men to excavate a few for research. After reaching home, I decided to send a sample to the Royal Capital for insight. I thought I was being a loyal subject. That was my gravest mistake." A hint of pure self-loathing burned in Rodrick's eyes. "Instead of a reply from the scholars, I was greeted by Viscount Garoth from the neighboring territory with a private army sponsored by Marquis Vance. They didn't ask questions. They didn't reason. They just started killing."
"And you already know the rest of the story..um.. sir?!"
"Oh... how foolish of me, Rodrick!" Azrael said smacking his forehead in a playful, exaggerated way. "In all the theatrics, I forgot to introduce myself."
Rodrick blinked, completely baffled by the sudden shift from a dark lord of death to a whimsical teenager.
"Behold! Before you stands Azrael.. um.. should I say my last name.. no.. Just Azrael will do for now. Okay, you can call me Master Azrael, Lord Azrael, or Sir Azrael. Whatever fits your tongue... okay?"
Rodrick was baffled by the sudden shift in tone and personality. He thought of Azrael as cruel and cold. But this change in his behaviour caught him completely off guard.
"Also," Azrael continued, his voice dropping, "you have one more Master. You will meet him once you have officially become our slave."
Rodrick's eyes widened. Another one? He looked at the empty space beside Azrael, sensing a coldness there that he couldn't explain.
He was being surprised by the minute now. The man before him was an enigma wrapped in sudden alarming shifts. Just as he was processing the change in behaviour, he got to know that he has another owner. He was finding it hard to categorise his new master, who was starting to appear more mysterious by the second.
Rodrick had to admit. He didn't even understand his own shift of attitude and expressions anymore. In the last hour, he had experienced so many emotions, he thought he had forgotten. But this new master of his was able to restore most of them just by using mere words. At this point, he was even looking forward to what his actions would bring him
Azrael ignored all the confusion on the Baron's face and turned his focus back to the story. "It is indeed very much odd, that a Viscount came crashing onto your doors without any consequences. Was there anything unusual or odd happening at the time of the events, other than the things you already said?" Azrael questioned.
Rodrick shook his head in denial. "Everything happened so fast, that before i understood the reason for war, I was already standing at the frontlines of the battle ground." He replied.
Hearing all that, Azrael appeared to be in deep contemplation but actually he was speaking to Master White.
"What do you think, White? Do you notice anything odd from the described events?" He asked.
"Nothing. If there was more information, I would find some uncertainties but even the party involved doesn't seem to have much knowledge of the events." Master White replied looking at the silent Rodrick.
"Well," Azrael internally said, while standing up and stretching his limbs lazily. "I guess we'll just have to complete our objective of revenge without worrying too much about the reason for now."
Then, he looked down at Rodrick. "Okay, Rodrick. Here are the terms. We will enact your revenge first, and in exchange, you will become my slave. Do you agree?"
Rodrick had many things to say and ask, but just considering the prospect of his revenge being fulfilled, made him forget all other things and he replied without a second's hesitation, "Yes."
"Good. Then we're leaving TradeHaven for the Sylvanus Capital, the city of Sylvane. It's the heart of the kingdom, and more importantly, it's closer to Marquis Vance's primary estates. We'll operate from there."
Azrael didn't mention that the Capital was also his original "home" in this world. It would serve as a convenient base for operations as he was familiar with the city.
"Once we've dealt with the Marquis," Azrael added with a shrug, "a mere Viscount like Garoth will be easy to crush. We'll save him for dessert."
"I don't care how you do it," Rodrick growled, his voice dry and hollow. "Just make my revenge possible, and I am yours till death."
Azrael answered back with a simple smile. Which offered Rodrick hope and a promise of retribution.
The journey from TradeHaven to the heart of the Sylvanus Kingdom was long, but for Azrael, it was a necessary transition. They traveled in a carriage under the guise of a young noble and his aging, silent manservant. Thanks to the Stream of Life, Rodrick no longer looked like a dying slave, though he kept his hood low to hide his famous face.
As the days turned into weeks, the landscape shifted from the rugged, lawless wilderness to the lush, manicured rolling hills of the central plains. The air became sweeter, filled with the scent of blooming jasmine and the distant hum of civilization.
Finally, the carriage crested a high ridge, and the destination came into view.
The Capital City of Sylvane sat like a crown of white stone upon a massive plateau. Its spires reached for the clouds complementing the Sylvaran Woods, the towers plated in gold caught the setting sun, making the entire city glow like a celestial beacon. Massive walls, etched with defensive runes that shimmered with a faint blue light, reflecting the waves from the Azure Waterfall surrounded the city forming a barrier.
"We're here," Azrael murmured, looking out the window at the looming gates. "Welcome to the end of your old life, Rodrick."
Rodrick stared at the gates, his hand instinctively gripping the seat. Even though he didn't fully understand his tragedy, he knew that the city of Sylvane was where his downfall had been sanctioned.
The carriage rolled forward, joining the long line of merchants and travelers entering the capital. They passed under the shadow of the great archway, and entered the capital of Sylvanus.