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Magus Reborn Chapter 191
🕑 Added 2025-03-13 20:10:35 +0000 UTCChapter 191
Kai stood before the gathered crowd, their eyes locked onto him. Hundreds of gazes bore into him, heavy with emotions he couldn’t fully decipher. But if he had to name them—reverence and authority would be at the top.
A sea of faces stretched before him, each marked by loss, by hardship, by survival. Some clutched at the hands of loved ones, others held themselves stiff, shoulders squared in forced composure. Children peered up at him from the safety of their parents' arms, too young to understand the meaning behind the gathering. Yet, in all those faces, he found no open hatred.
He had expected it. Deserved it, even.
The burden of the dead pressed against his spine like an iron yoke. He had braced himself for resentment when he had handed out the compensation, waiting for a grieving widow to curse his name, for a father to spit at his feet. A few had hesitated before accepting the coin, fingers curling tightly around the pouches as if struggling against the finality of it. And yet, none had refused. None had openly blamed him.
Was it because they had faith in him? Or had they simply learned to swallow their grief as he had?
Either way, their silence didn’t ease the guilt that sat heavy in his chest.
A deep breath. His hands clenched behind his back. The stone slabs before him gleamed under the sun, engraved with names that would never be spoken again by the men who bore them. Names that had once shouted in the heat of battle, names that had called for loved ones in their final moments. Now, they were nothing but etchings on cold stone.
He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the hush.
“People of Veralt! The past months have been a trial for us all. A beast wave at our gates. A war, fueled by my brother’s greed, threatening to tear our home apart. And yet, we still stand.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, barely more than a shift in posture, a tightening of fists.
“But we do not stand here alone. The peace we have now—the very ground we walk upon—was won by those who gave their lives for it.”
His gaze swept over the rows of names.
“Each name on these stones belongs to a warrior who stood when others could not. Who fought when retreat was the easier choice. Who struck down enemies by the dozens, knowing full well they might not live to see another sunrise.”
A pause. He swallowed the tightness in his throat.
“As their lord, I am proud. As a man, I grieve. We were not strong enough to save them. But I promise you this—Veralt will never forget them.”
Kai yelled over the crowd, weighty with conviction. He could’ve used a voice amplification spell, but he didn’t want to. He wanted this moment to be intimate, from him to the crowd; the fallen men and their families.
“The names carved into these stones belong to warriors—men who stood when others would have fallen. Men like Liam and Rylan, who faced a blood drinker, one of the deadliest creatures to walk these lands, and not only survived but wounded it before falling.”
A shift happened in the crowd. A woman who had stood stiffly moments ago now bowed her head, fingers curling tightly around the fabric of her dress.
“There was Mishan, who helped to take down three stalker hawks in the beast wave, his arrows never missing their mark. And Rhaegon, who alone cut down twelve enemies in the fief war, ensuring gates of Verdis held even as blood soaked the ground beneath him. And even one of the men from the Lombards—Wulfgar…”
One by one, he spoke their names. One by one, their families straightened, their grief momentarily tempered by the pride that came with remembrance. Fathers clutched their sons' shoulders a little tighter. Mothers wiped their tears but held their heads high.
Kai exhaled slowly.
“I know that no compensation, no memorial, will bring them back. And I will not insult you by pretending that it will.” His gaze swept over the gathered families. “But I swear this—so long as I live, Veralt will remember. We will remember what we lost for this peace.”
A hush settled over the crowd, deep and solemn. And then, Claire stepped forward, silent as she pressed a bundle of small flowers into his hands.
Kai took them without a word, turning toward the first name on the stone slabs. He knelt, placing the flowers beneath the engraving. One by one, he moved, honoring each fallen warrior as the people watched, some joining him in quiet reverence, others whispering their own prayers.
It took him some time to get through all of them, but he did. And in return, he gave the grieving families the time—to mourn, to speak, to share stories that would keep the memories alive. Then, when the moment felt right, he stepped away, moving toward the carriage where Claire and Killian waited.
Just before climbing in, he turned to Rhea who he had noticed in the crowd. “Meet me in the evening for your lesson.”
She nodded, her usual sharpness softened by the aftermath of the ceremony. Kai understood, because even he felt heavy. He nodded back and climbed.
Inside the carriage, the door shut with a quiet thud. The stillness wrapped around him, but the heaviness in his chest remained. His fingers tapped once against his knee before he stilled them.
Claire watched him carefully. “Lord Arzan, are you alright?”
“I am,” he said, his jaw tightening slightly. “I just... feel bad for the families of the fallen. No matter what we do, they will always feel that absence.”
Killian exhaled, leaning back against the seat. “You did what you could. The men knew what they were getting into.”
Kai didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the city outside the window.
Did that make it any easier?
He wasn’t sure.
"I know that," he murmured, answering Killian’s words. "I know they chose this. I know the risks were clear. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take a moment to think about it. About the fact that now, people fight and die for a cause that I lead."
A pause stretched between them.
His voice was quieter when he spoke again. "I need to be strong enough for them."
Neither Claire nor Killian interrupted the moment of reflection.
Kai leaned back and sighed again. His mind was now moving in circles, back and forth on his memories. "When I was in the Sorcerer’s Tower, I wasn’t someone who led others. I was strong enough for it, but I worked better alone."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Claire shift, watching him with an intensity he had come to recognize.
That look.
The same one she always wore when he spoke of the era he came from.
A truth he had revealed only to his most trusted subordinates weeks ago. Killian hadn’t dwelled much on the personal details of Kai’s past, but he had been relentless in questioning him about the Enforcers of the future—their tactics, their weapons, the kind of beasts they had to contend with. Claire, on the other hand, had always wanted to know more. She wanted to know Kai more on a personal level.
Before she could press further, Kai steered the conversation away.
"Anyway, what’s the latest news on the locked birds?"
Claire blinked at the abrupt change but answered without hesitation. "Still insufferable, Lord Arzan. They constantly demand meetings with you. Baron Kairnso and Vensar are the worst—harassing the maids assigned to them, even attempting to break out."
Kai’s fingers twitched slightly at that. He would deal with them soon.
Claire continued. "Viscount Buck and Viscount Malyr are better behaved, but they’ve requested an audience with you almost every hour for the past two weeks."
Kai nodded, lips curling slightly. "Good. Desperation makes men pliable. Right now, all they want is their freedom—or at the very least, better conditions. That means we can squeeze them dry."
Killian smirked. "It's good that we aren't treating them with honour. They don't deserve it."
Kai let out a quiet chuckle. "Honor won’t refill our coffers."
And that was another mess entirely.
After the fief war, Kai had expected to replenish some of the resources he had poured into war preparations by digging into Lucian’s treasury. Yet when he examined the ledgers, the reality had been far worse than anticipated.
Lucian hadn’t just mismanaged the city’s finances—he had barely maintained them at all. Large sums had been funneled into mercenaries, hired during the beast wave but kept idling in his territory, waiting for the inevitable conflict. What little wealth remained had already been drained by the time Kai took over.
A bitter inheritance.
His gaze flickered toward the carriage ceiling. That bastard didn’t just lose the war—he was already losing before it even began.
Kai had gone over the numbers again and again, and the truth remained the same—if he took the rest of the money for himself, the people of Veyrin would suffer for it. He had seen how they lived. The war had drained more than just their spirit; it had hollowed out their livelihoods.
Fortunately, he had nobles in his grasp. Unlike Lucian, their territories weren’t in complete ruin. That meant they had wealth to spare—and he fully intended to squeeze it from them.
Killian leaned back, arms crossed. “They’ll want their freedom in exchange for whatever we ask of them. We can’t let that happen.”
“Of course not. But I’ve thought of ways around that. We just have to keep them contained until we move to the capital.”
Claire tilted her head. “So you plan to drag them along like caged animals?”
“If necessary.” Kai allowed a hint of amusement to creep into his voice. “From what Ansel reported last night, the fief war is still the main gossip in the capital. King Sullivan has already sent heralds to deal with its aftermath.”
That was where things became more interesting.
The Watchers had grown since the war, taking in a handful of Mages and expanding their influence. They had even begun incorporating druidic magic, allowing them to scout far ahead. Their presence in the capital was no longer just whispers in the dark—they had set up a base, and now Kai had a steady flow of information reaching him every week.
Killian frowned. “And what do you think will come of that?”
Kai exhaled. “Francis and I already discussed it, but the outcome is obvious. The king will have no choice but to regard us as the victors.”
They weren’t the aggressors. That played in their favor. And as for the matter of the blood drinkers…
Kai knew how to handle that.
Lucian and Idrin had been careless. They hadn’t even bothered to properly hide the drinkers’ involvement in the village massacre. No doubt, they had assumed that once he was dead, no one reputable enough would be left to accuse them of anything.
That arrogance would cost them.
Kai’s lips curled slightly. “The blood drinker's existence will be a massive advantage. Lucian thought he could control the flow of information. But he made one mistake.”
Claire raised a brow. “And what’s that?”
“He didn’t kill me. If I’m killed,” Kai murmured, his voice quiet, “there won’t be anyone reputable enough to accuse him of anything.”
Killian shifted, his jaw tightening. “Regina would still likely try to pin Lucian’s death on you, even if he took the poison himself. She won’t stop at that, either. There could be other schemes… and hiding the existence of the Enforcers is getting harder. A lot of information from Veralt is reaching other territories slowly after all.”
Kai stared ahead, his mind running over the possibilities as he nodded. “If weapon enchantments and armor were enough to achieve what the Enforcers do,” he said, “other nobles would’ve already copied it. We could only stretch that lie for so long.”
Killian nodded sharply. “That’s the key,” he said, his voice colder now. “Our main weapon against any enemies. We can’t let the secret of it leak. Not to anyone.”
Kai leaned back in his seat, the pressure of it all weighing on him, but he remained composed. “I know,” he replied. “We’re already distributing mana cannons, but we’ve made sure they can’t be used against us. The demand is rising for them... and the golems too but we won’t sell them either.” He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. “But with them, we’ve implemented failsafes. The Enforcers, though… if they get their hands on them, it would be catastrophic.”
The room fell into a heavy silence. They all understood the gravity of the situation.
Kai exhaled a long breath, shaking his head. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he muttered. “For now, I need to meet with these spoiled nobles.”
***
When he got over to where the captives were, Baron Kairnso was the first to speak. “So, you finally showed your face,” he said, his tone dripping with a mixture of disdain and curiosity, as if Kai’s presence was both an irritation and a surprise.
Lord Vensar continued where Kairnso left off, his words sharp with barely veiled accusation.
“I thought you would have forgotten about us once this damned war ended. The norm was to visit us, once the war was over.” He gave a dismissive wave, as if the matter was as trivial as a social call. “But it seems you’ve forgotten all the norms and standards of a noble.”
Kai’s gaze remained fixed on the two men. His silence spoke volumes as he studied their expressions—ones that seemed to be oblivious to the gravity of their situation. They acted as though they were still in control, still operating under the belief that they could talk their way out of anything. But Kai could see it now; they hadn’t yet grasped the reality of their predicament.
He understood why, of course. By law, nobles were given certain privileges. Prisoners of noble blood couldn’t be harmed. They were entitled to basic living conditions, no matter their crimes. That was why Kai had provided rooms for the nobles under his custody, rooms guarded by his men. But then there was Baron Idrin, sitting to the left of the others.
Idrin had once been a proud man, but now, he looked like a shadow of his former self. His cheeks were sunken, his once-lustrous hair thinned out, leaving him a far cry from the man he had been. The pride and arrogance that had once defined him were gone, replaced by the gaunt features of a man who had been broken. And Kai hadn’t treated him with the same leniency. Idrin was kept in the cells, far removed from the comfort afforded to the other nobles. There were no basic living conditions for him. His crimes—the massacre of an entire village, his collusion with Lucian—meant he had no right to the normalities of noble life. He had been brought here, not out of necessity, but because Kai wanted to see him face-to-face.
Beside Idrin were two other nobles, Viscount Buck and Viscount Malyr. Neither of them spoke, but their discomfort was evident.
Their eyes darted around, avoiding Kai’s gaze, knowing that their companion’s words would only dig them deeper into the hole they were already in. They wore the expression of men who understood the stakes but were too fearful to challenge the situation they found themselves in. Buck’s hands were clenched at his sides, as though the very act of being present was too much for him to bear. Viscount Malyr, a bit more composed but equally uneasy, shifted in his seat, his discomfort palpable in every twitch of his shoulders.
The moment Kairnso and Vensar finished speaking, Kai’s eyes locked with Killian, standing just beside him, ever watchful and ready for whatever might unfold. Killian’s gaze was steady, giving him a subtle nod.
“I’ve not forgotten the norms,” Kai said. “But as you said, the war is over. And now, I have different priorities.” He looked each of them over, his eyes lingering on Idrin, before continuing. “And you should be worried about what those priorities mean for you.”
Kai’s gaze swept over the room, lingering on Kairnso. His lips curled into something akin to a smile, though it lacked any warmth. “You should be glad I’ve been too busy to deal with you all,” he said. “You’ve had time to heal from any injuries my men might have given you. Trust me, though, you won’t like this meeting.”
He turned next to Vensar whose scowl deepened as Kai spoke. “As for forgetting the standards of nobility… I believe it was you all who had forgotten them,” Kai continued. “You rushed into a war that wasn’t yours, and you lost. Pathetically. Not befitting of a noble, is it?”
Vensar’s jaw clenched, his lips parting to retort, but Kai cut him off with a decisive wave of his hand. “Moreover, you don’t even have the basic decency to act like proper war prisoners.” His eyes narrowed. “You need to understand something. You aren’t in your territories right now. Here, I’m in charge. And I won’t be giving you that warning again.”
Buck shifted uneasily, his discomfort growing under the weight of Kai’s words. He cleared his throat, glancing between the other nobles before speaking up, his voice tight. “I understand. We will cooperate.”
Kairnso’s defiance flared. “No, we won’t,” he snapped, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You might be a count, but we have rights too. And once the king hears how you’re treating us, he won’t be happy.”
Kai’s expression darkened, his brow furrowing as he studied Kairnso. Where’s this confidence coming from? His mind ticked through possibilities. Perhaps Kairnso thought he could escape his fate, believing the King would intervene. Or maybe, he thought that as neighbors, there would be some level of mercy. But Kai was done with the attitude.
He straightened in his seat, his voice steady but final. “Okay. That’s enough. I told you that was my last warning.” Without another word, he made a subtle gesture towards Killian.
In an instant, Killian moved, faster than Kairnso could react. The baron tried to stand, eyes wide with shock, but Killian was already there, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him back into his seat. The sharp tip of his sword gleamed in the dim light, now pressed right against Kairnso’s eye. He froze, his breath catching in his throat as he realized.
And Kai could see the man’s body visibly tremble, his face paling as the sword tip dug just a bit deeper. His eyes darted to his fellow nobles, all of them wide-eyed, visibly shaken. Vensar, on the other hand, looked downright ashen, the color drained from his face as he watched Kairnso struggle. He had clearly underestimated the situation—and now, it was too late to back out.
“I—I’m a noble!” Kairnso stammered, his voice quivering as he wriggled in Killian’s unyielding grip. “You can’t do this to me! It’s a sin! Let me go! I’ll—I'll complain to the king! He’ll—”
Kai’s gaze sharpened as he leaned forward, cutting off his desperate words. “You can do whatever you want in the future,” he said, his voice low and chilling. “But right now, you’re under me. You’d do better than to talk like we’re equals.” His eyes flicked toward Killian, whose sword remained steady. “We are not equals. And if you don’t know, I’m already accused of killing my brother. I don’t think it will matter if any of you lose your heads here.”
Kairnso stilled for a moment, his earlier bravado faltering. The room was heavy with tension as Kai’s words sank in. He could feel the tension of his words pressing down on him, on all of them.
“Nobles not being able to take defeat and killing themselves in their prisons isn’t so rare of an occurrence,” Kai continued. “So, you need to decide now. Do you want to act like prisoners and talk to me about what happens next? Or are you going to lose your heads?”
Comments
Arthor K
Nobles just get used to being treated really well and arzan was just a baron a while back and had risen so fast, they are looking down partially because of his age. And because they think he won't touch them. Also only two are directly Against him. Others have accepted.
Robert Rosenthal
is arzan being the duke just not computing with them?
Silver Beard
Seems like he needs to start culling all the villages and other territories for more enforcers and start planting more elder cuttings. Still a little unclear how he's awarding/dealing with the Lombards.
Michael
Very nice! some folks just don't know when they have lost - and the arrogance is right on par!
