"What? This cannot be!!"
Lord Falco could only stare with his mouth agape. His face, which had been a mask of furious rage, was now slack with disbelief.
His Head Mage, Mistress Vexia, knelt on the ground before the strange man. She was defeated. Her ultimate spell had been erased as if it were a child’s scrawling in the dirt.
The oppressive fog was gone. The clear blue sky of Elowen was visible once more. The only sound was the wind rustling through the trees.
Riku lowered his hand. He looked at the kneeling, broken mage and the terrified, speechless lord.
Riku looked directly at the stunned Lord Falco. "Now, we are going to talk."
Lord Falco flinched as if struck. He tore his gaze from Riku and turned to the two figures who had co with him. His last hope.
"Rudolf! Violet Emissary!" he hissed, his voice a desperate whisper. "What are you waiting for? Help her! Help Vexia!"
He gestured wildly at Riku. "Take him down! Both of you! He is just one man!"
Rudolf and the Violet Emissary did not move. They simply watched with unreadable expressions.
"Did you not hear ?" Falco demanded, his voice cracking with frustration. "Help secure my attendant! I will give you anything! Na your price! Riches? Artifacts? A favor from House Falco? It is yours!"
Rudolf finally let out a long, slow sigh. It was the sound of a man who had seen too much. He shook his head.
"My Lord Falco," Rudolf said, his voice weary. "We cannot."
"Cannot?" Falco sputtered. "What do you an, you cannot? He is a single mage!"
"He is not," the Violet Emissary spoke, her voice a low, cold whisper. "He is sothing else entirely."
She stepped forward. She did not draw a weapon. Instead, she reached into the folds of her violet robes and pulled out a long, thin object wrapped in black silk.
She unwrapped it slowly. It was a sword. A plain, unadorned longsword.
It was the second Soul-Drinker. The one Riku had made in the Master’s Suite of the Gavel.
She held it out for Lord Falco to see. The runes on the blade pulsed with a faint, hungry light.
"Do you recognize this craftsmanship, my Lord?" she asked.
Falco stared at the sword. It was identical to the one that had just sold for half a million gold at the auction. This sword??Didn’t Rudolf buy it at the auction? How do you have it as well?"
"He gave it to her," Rudolf said quietly. "As a gift."
He looked at Falco, his eyes filled with a gravity the Lord had never seen before. "My Lord, the Soul-Drinker that sold at auction... the Tier Nine artifact that no living man could create... He made it."
Falco stared at him, uncomprehending. "What?"
"He made it," Rudolf repeated. "In front of our eyes. He took a plain steel sword, no different from the ones your guards carry. He drew runes on it with his fingernail. And in less than ten seconds, he had created a second Soul-Drinker."
The Violet Emissary nodded. "What you just saw... him erasing Vexia’s magic... that was not a battle. That was a demonstration. He was toying with her."
Lord Falco’s mind reeled. The mysterious craftsman who could create forbidden artifacts at will. The "thief" from the Light Kingdom who had infiltrated his ho. The man standing before him now, radiating a power so imnse it made his own Head Mage kneel in defeat.
They were all the sa person.
"Made it?" Falco whispered, his voice trembling. "He... made it? With his bare hands?" His eyes darted from the sword in the Emissary’s hands to Riku. "That’s not magic! That’s sothing else! What are you?"
"But... but that’s impossible," Falco stamred, his rage finally extinguished, replaced by a cold, creeping dread. "He is from the Light Kingdom! They do not possess such arts! Soul-craft is forbidden! A legend!"
"And yet," Rudolf said, gesturing to Riku, "here he stands."
Lord Falco stared at the second Soul-Drinker. His mind refused to accept what he was seeing. What he was hearing.
"Lies," he whispered. His voice was hoarse. "All of you... you are lying!"
His fear twisted. It curdled into a final, desperate burst of rage. He was a Lord of the Northern Empire. He would not be made a fool of by a mage from the weak southern lands.
"I’ll defeat you!" he roared. "And then I will take my man back."
He drew his own sword. It was an ornate, jewel-encrusted blade. It was more a symbol of his status than a practical weapon. He charged at Riku. His movents were clumsy. They were fueled by pure, unthinking fury.
Riku watched him co. He did not even draw a weapon.
Falco swung his sword in a wide, telegraphed arc. Riku sidestepped easily. The blade whistled through the empty air where he had been standing.
Falco stumbled. His montum carried him forward. He spun around. He swung again. This ti it was a desperate, downward chop.
Riku raised a single hand. He caught the flat of the blade in his open palm. The enchanted steel stopped dead. It could cut through armor. It did not even scratch his skin.
Lord Falco stared. His eyes were wide with disbelief.
Riku tightened his grip. He twisted his wrist. The sword was wrenched from Falco’s grasp. It clattered to the ground.
Riku then delivered a single, precise open-palm strike to the Lord’s chest.
It was not a powerful blow. It was a push. But it sent Lord Falco stumbling backward. He tripped over his own feet. He landed hard on the ground with a loud grunt. He was stunned. The wind was knocked out of him. But he was otherwise unhard.
"FATHER!"
Marci’s shriek cut through the air. She rushed forward. Her face was a mask of fury and betrayal. She knelt by her father’s side. Then she turned her tear-filled, hate-filled eyes on Riku.
"You!" she scread, her voice cracking. "You monster!"
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