Chapter 17: The Archmage

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     "We are all gathered here today to celebrate the Cortiana family's legacy, the preservation of a home that brings this realm the strength to oppose the evil that continues to threaten the brilliance of our kingdom and the radiance of our faith. With the power vested upon me by the Church, I declare Elysia Cortiana de Sylvion the rightful heir of the Sylvion Duchy.", recites the lanky man wearing a wide belt worn around the waist wearing an azure *cassock and two white with gold bands hemmed with fringe that hang from the waist. 

*Cassock: full-length garment of a single color worn by certain members of the church.

     Apparently, he is a cardinal from the Celestial Church that also oversees the Sylvion faith. The Celestial Church is the widely accepted religion of the Etherion Kingdom. They are modeled after a certain religion in the previous world I was in. The Church believes the theory where the Goddess Celestia sacrificed her life to guide the creatures of this world to the end of times, not wanting the many to face the destruction the Primus faced. 

     In the story, the Celestial Church is hostile with the religion that believed the opposite where the Goddess Celestia is named Mortina, the Goddess that wept for her kin and gave rise to the first demon, the Demon King that she commanded to inflict great pain and suffering to the people of the continent. Just after the story starts, the Celestial Church will be the one to discover the potential within the female lead and they will also be the ones to attend to her endeavors while the opposing organization will be the ones to thwart the female lead's plan to eradicate the demons.


 Just after the story starts, the Celestial Church will be the one to discover the potential within the female lead and they will also be the ones to attend to her endeavors while the opposing organization will be the ones to thwart the female lea...

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     Inside a room with no windows, a hunched man is sitting facing a table and holding a piece of note. The note is crumpled and its content is the one thing that can wreak havoc across the kingdom. His Kingdom.

     He has long attained the most sought-after position anyone with the craving for power and control could ever want. Stability and the respect of his constituents, a noble wife fit for being the King's consort and a responsible son that could surpass him one day. There is one thing that crumbles this picture-perfect life of a ruler, his heir.

     Once an outstanding young man that brought about a generation of exceptional soldiers under his charge, he proved to the whole continent how strong he is by posing a good enough threat to the Ereldian empire and maintaining a defensive stance where the demons could not easily strike. It goes without saying that the young man was not clear of mistakes and mischief, he is often stubborn, impulsive, and clashes with those of superior authority, not that many people are superior to the crown prince. Not long ago, he was a young prince with a boyish charm and the celebrated royal that would soon rule the realm. He was proud and confident albeit reckless and somewhat arrogant but this was part of his princely image. This attitude would soon come to haunt him because of one lapse of judgment.

     It was only a night that he was ignorant of whom he shared the bed with, only to find out the next day that the person he was with was the first princess, his only sibling.

     He squeezes his hand holding the note, crumpling the paper even more. "Summon the Archmage."

     "It is as you wish, your Majesty." Without noise, a hooded figure appeared before the man, expecting to see a proud face but at this moment, this person has long been keeping a secret and it is seen in the wrinkled face and the tired expression of the man. In this room, he is but a man with his own problems to face.

    The hooded figure vanished out of his sight and he sighed, "I'm sorry, my child."


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     Sitting in an oak door, facing the messy table with parchments and books, a man with bright pink hair akin to strawberry pinches the bridge of his nose, a glint of rose quartz can be faintly seen in between his hands. He has been working on a very strenuous quest from the royal family. A week ago, right before his scheduled departure towards his long-awaited vacation, the King suddenly summoned him requesting his services. 

     The quest in and of itself was something a whole team of scholars and mages should be working on but the King commanded a vow of secrecy. Which means three things for the young man. First, it would mean that his vacation is now a long-forgotten dream. Second, the vow of secrecy would entail that he will not be privy to the details of the quest to his other colleagues which prevents him from asking for their help. Lastly, this quest demanded that he would be visiting the National Archives, which means interacting with that uptight scoundrel. 

     He sighs and closes his eyes when someone enters the room. "You look like you're having fun, my dear archmage. I am so glad that you are so diligent. This is a joyous day, yes indeed!" 

     A bitter expression forms on his face. "Aghhhh! Shut up, Margie! I hate seeing your happy face."

     "oh, you flatter me, dear archmage." A bright grin wears the face of Margaret, the Archmage's assistant. Her black braided hair hangs on her left side.

     "Any chance of drinking the legendary Hiron from Canton, a beverage brewed by the Lokiu Vineyard is now something that I fondly dream about!"

     "Well, if it is any compensation, we'll just write how much glorious it tastes like while we enjoy our vacation while saddened that our dear archmage is left all alone in the cold and unforgiving castle.... and oh! with that dreaded rival of yours." She acts sad and fake wiped her fake tears. 

     "Don't remind me of that bastard and HE.IS.NOT.MY.RIVAL! I am clearly superior, in all ways, might I add!"

     "I don't know about you but I can hear a bitter little archmage, ho ho ho!" with that, Margaret drops more parchment on the archmage's table and scurries off.

     "Damn it!" He sighed deeply once again and turned his attention towards the expensive parchment on his table. "Elysia Cortiana de Sylvion, whoever the hell you are, I hope you choke on your own spit!"


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