Granor did not reply, rely staring fixedly at the "Venerable Lord" Christian, who sat across from him. At the sa ti, he extended his senses with all his might, successfully breaking through the spatial seal on the carriage. Yet, of the world outside, his senses reported only one thing—a void.
The head of the Tower of Thunderstorm continued, as if speaking to himself. "When the great flood cos, so people have the wisdom to move to higher ground. Others want to ta the river to prevent it from overflowing. Still others believe it’s better to dredge and divert the waters than to simply dam them.
"mbers of our Brotherhood should act as ’artisans’—surveying the currents, designing and building the ’levees’ to guide the water where we wish it to go.
"And yet you, Count Granor, insist on rowing against the current in this great river. You even delude yourself into thinking you can fish for fa and fortune in its raging torrent... Why would you do sothing so unwise?"
Granor remained seated stiffly. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. Countless mages throughout history have accepted titles and joined the Nobility. I’ve done nothing wrong..."
"If Kano himself had made the sa choice, I would never have interfered. But you are the head of the Valois Association. You have failed to set a proper example for your brothers in the Association.
"As a Venerable Lord of the Inner Ring, I had no choice but to take the ti to see you before attending the Noble Conference. I am here to purge the internal elents that threaten the very foundation of the Brotherhood."
Granor withdrew his senses, focusing all his energy on the enemy before him. "Do you know how many spells I cast at the Magic Guild today? Excluding the one that failed against Valon, the answer is zero.
"In the main hall, I was able to accept my defeat. In truth, Master Kano was still playing by the rules I had established—though his thods for compelling attendance were sowhat... crude."
’Looking back, it was actually I who lost my composure,’ Granor recalled, ’trying to kill Valon—an ordinary man with no magic—right in front of everyone.’
Christian listened with great interest to the defeated man’s recounting.
The Count continued in a level voice, "And so, from start to finish, Master Kano and I never crossed spells. I must admit, his skill is slightly greater than mine. However, Your Excellency Christian, in so openly and brazenly threatening a Great Mage... are you prepared for a duel?"
The words had barely left his lips when both Granor and Christian struck. A probing bolt of lightning shot toward Granor, but his form dissolved into a white mist that exploded outward, filling the entire carriage.
’Trying to obscure my vision?’ But he was quickly burned by the billowing white mist. "Scorching Cloud!" What looked like re water vapor was far hotter than one hundred degrees. In an instant, the superheated fluid filled the cramped space, and the carriage’s wooden components began to crack and warp.
Christian hastily cast a spell to shield himself. While resisting the extre temperature, he activated a Healing Scroll to treat his injuries.
Within the superheated steam, a hand suddenly condensed and shot toward Christian’s neck. It clashed violently with his magical barrier, emitting a piercing shriek as it threatened to break through the defenses of the Tower of Thunderstorm’s head.
But it was only a feint. Granor materialized from the white mist, a jet-black curved saber now in his left hand, and slashed at his foe.
Sharpness, Sundering, Defilent, Curses... The ominous blade seed forged from pure concept. It could not have been smithed, nor could it be held by normal ans; it could only have been a creation of magic.
The carriage had been drawn into an uncanny space, and the intangible blade carved an arc through it, shattering the execution ground Christian had prepared for the Count. The out-of-control luxury carriage burst forth from the stream of light and returned to the Material World. Its maddened horses bolted, dragging it straight toward the Seine River.
The wind from the black blade struck the ground, gouging a trench several feet deep into the stone road. The Scorching Cloud billowed out from the ruined carriage and swept over the street.
Christian layered new Defense Spells, easily deflecting the jet-black blade. He frowned. "So that was your true goal?" The pocket dinsion had been ant to prevent Granor from using Teleportation Class spells to escape. Now that they were back in the Material World, that containnt was broken.
Once the containnt failed completely, a teleportation spell Granor had prepared in advance would carry him from the battlefield.
Christian snorted. A "wall" of innurable, interlocking gears materialized out of thin air just before the carriage could hit the water. As the gears spun madly, the carriage seed to shrink to an infinitesimal size. In a single instant, it vanished above the river, leaving only the mangled corpses of the coachman and the two horses to plunge into the water with an enormous splash.
Granor had made a mistake. He had foolishly tried to harm Christian even as he escaped. At the very mont he activated his teleportation, he diverted his focus to unleash an explosion of light and heat, hoping to eliminate the threat for good.
"Once again, your greed has led you to miscalculate." Christian allowed the attack to pierce him as he sealed them both off from the Material World again. His shields and clothes were now riddled with holes. Beneath his torn skin, endless thunderclouds flashed and rumbled.
But as the carriage returned to the void, the white mist abruptly shifted from scorching heat to an extre cold—a chill so deep it could freeze thought itself.
Granor’s figure vanished once more, but his voice erged. The fine water droplets in the white mist had frozen into tiny ice crystals, which now trembled, collectively issuing the Count’s Roar:
"Christian! Venerable Lord! Are you really going to take this to the point of no return? Just think! If I’m seen walking out of the guild hall and then never return, what will people think of Kano? Of the Magic Guild! You’ll be undermining him!"
Christian dropped his defenses completely, allowing the frigid air and high-speed Ice Blades to assail him. But his body erupted in silver light as a cruel smile spread across his face. "You seem to be misunderstanding sothing. I couldn’t care less what happens to Leonel."
The silver light tore through the white mist.
BOOM!
A pillar of water five stories high erupted from the river, startling the last hired carriage of the night. A fish was even flung high into the air, landing lifeless on the bank.
SPLASH... SPLASH...
The moonlit surface of the water rippled once more as a man walked out of the current and onto the bank. He stood on the stone steps, shaking off ice crystals and water droplets. But that wasn’t enough. A cloud of steam rose from his body, drying him completely.
Once all this was done, the immaculately dressed Christian put on his hat and departed from the banks of the Seine River.
...
anwhile, a distraught François returned ho.
The Countess, who had been keeping her daughter company in the dining room, heard a servant open the door and imdiately shot to her feet. However, she saw only her son returning alone.
"Where is your father? Has he gone to a celebration banquet?"
"No, Mother. I don’t know the details, but I believe Father has failed." François shook his head, his thoughts turning to the strange man. "On our way back... a guest ca for Father. I think he was a Great Mage, too..."
The Countess’s face went deathly pale. She walked over to her son and slapped him hard across the face. "How could you co back alone!"
Quelviss, not understanding why her mother would strike her brother, cried out, "Mother!"
Then, the large, brilliant gemstone on the Countess’s necklace began to glow. She rushed to a clear space in the drawing room. As François and his sister followed, they heard their mother yell, "Stand back! Clear so space!"
But after the gem flashed, the Count did not appear in his ho. The jewel lost its luster and shattered.
"No!" A despairing shriek echoed through the drawing room. The Countess’s strength gave out, and she collapsed into the arms of her eldest son, François.
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