I Tricked a God

The rays of the rising sun were only just beginning to pierce through the tall stained-glass windows, painting the spacious the Magisters’ Hall in soft bands of gold and crimson. Dust drifted lazily in the air, and the stone columns slowly warmed.

But there was no peace.

Magister Priscilla sat at her desk, her back held a little straighter than necessary, nervously tapping her fingernail against the dark wood. The sound was quiet, yet in the silence of the hall it seemed especially distinct.

Nearby stood Kael, the Black Rat, and Riada.

Duran’s desk still stood vacant.

In recent times he had more often acted as an Elder than as a Magister of the Hall of Ancient Research, yet he still came here. This place remained more than merely a workplace to him. Only a few hours earlier, he had sent Priscilla a brief message instructing her to wait for him here.

The tense anticipation seemed to warp their sense of time. To them, it felt as though they had been waiting for days.

Priscilla lifted her gaze to the others, noting the tension in their faces, and said quietly:

“Duran is late… I hope everything’s all right…”

Kael, standing slightly apart, replied thoughtfully, “The outsiders’ goal is to subjugate us, not destroy us. Duran is not in mortal danger.”

He spoke calmly, almost dispassionately, yet he felt the tension slowly building in his chest.

“If they’re choosing a softer approach, then negotiations are underway. And if negotiations are underway… then Lasthold is no longer entirely free.”

Riada brushed back her green hair and let out a nervous breath.

“That still doesn’t reassure me…”

And just as Kael was about to add something, the heavy door of the hall trembled faintly.

The hinges creaked, startlingly loud in the morning stillness.

Priscilla rose from her seat at once, her chair scraping sharply backward. The Black Rat shifted slightly to the side, instinctively taking a more advantageous position, while Riada tensed, clenching her fingers until her knuckles turned white.

The door slowly gave way, and a familiar figure appeared in the doorway.

Duran stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind him, as if trying to seal off whatever was happening outside from the hall. His posture remained straight, his gaze stern and focused. But his face… his face was unnaturally pale.

As though he had aged several years overnight.

“What’s happening?” Priscilla burst out, unable to restrain herself.

Duran was silent for several seconds, as if choosing his words. Then he slowly shook his head.

“I’m not sure we stand any chance of resisting…”

The words were quiet, yet they sent a chill down everyone’s spine.

No one interrupted him or asked questions—the tension in the hall had grown so thick that any words would have been superfluous.

Without looking at anyone, Duran slowly walked to the glass cabinet by the wall. He opened it and took out a bottle of wine and, without even attempting to find a glass, yanked the cork free in a sharp motion.

Bringing the neck to his lips, he took several large gulps in a row, as if trying to wash away the bitterness of what he had said. On one swallow he coughed, and a little wine trickled down his chin, but he did not bother wiping it away.

Turning back to the others, Duran exhaled slowly and said:

“From what I gathered, they call themselves the Blood Dragon Empire. Their strength surpasses ours many times over. That bald man with the serpent tattoo… he isn’t even the strongest of them.”

Duran stepped closer to the table and braced a palm against it, as though he needed the support.

“They rule over several dozen cities like Lasthold—and hundreds of smaller ones.”

He shook his head, as if he still could not believe his own words.

“I… I can’t even fathom the scale of their power. By their own claims, it rivals that of the ancient empires.”

Hearing this, everyone in the hall felt a strange, almost physical sensation of emptiness—as though something inside had snapped. As if the last faint hope of resistance or even protest had finally guttered out.

Priscilla slowly sank into her chair. Riada went pale, staring at a single point. Even the air seemed to grow heavy.

The Black Rat was the first to straighten. She clenched her teeth, suppressing emotion, and said firmly:

“Forget the feelings. What does this mean for Lasthold?”

Kael nodded grimly. He had been thinking the same, though in his mind he was already tracing the consequences far beyond what had been said aloud.

Duran took another swallow of wine, this time slower, as though gathering his thoughts.

“For now, we don’t yet see the full scope of it,” he began, rubbing his forehead wearily. “But one thing is obvious…”

He paused briefly, and that pause only made it worse.

“They will send their mages here to establish control. Formally—for our development and unification. In reality—so we won’t take a single step without their knowledge. They’ll also build a temple to their God—and teach our people to worship Him.”

At those words, Duran’s expression shifted. He fell silent and glanced at Kael, as though hesitating to say the rest.

Kael caught that moment.

“I take it that’s not all,” he said calmly.

Duran nodded heavily.

“No. It’s only the beginning.”

He closed his eyes for a second, then finished:

“Before they can fully secure their hold here, they’ll have to return to their Empire. And as they leave… they will take all the talented youth with them. As they put it, ‘Under our supervision, they will achieve what would be impossible in your city.’”

“What?!” Riada was the first to break. Her voice cracked, and her fingers clenched into fists. “How dare they?!”

Outrage made her tremble, and for a moment real fury flared in the hall.

The Black Rat let out a dark breath, without raising her voice:

“They know exactly what they’re doing…”

She crossed her arms over her chest and added more coldly:

“If the best of the younger generation fall into their hands, the people of Lasthold won’t rebel. They’ll be holding our entire future hostage.”

Everyone understood without further explanation. Take the children—take the leverage. Any move against the Empire would endanger those in their hands.

But Kael spoke quietly, his voice far heavier:

“That’s not their real objective.”

All eyes turned to him.

He continued, choosing his words carefully:

“They won’t simply take the talented children. They’ll reshape the elite. They’ll give them power, knowledge, status… and send them back. They won’t be outsiders. They’ll be our own people, advancing the Empire’s ideas and faith.”

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After those words, the hall felt even colder.

None of them had even considered such a possibility. Lasthold had lived in isolation for five hundred years, forgetting how great powers think—how far they plan, and how far ahead they are willing to look.

Kael, however, understood it all too well.

“That was how the ancient empires acted. That is how states act when they intend to rule for centuries.”

A heavy silence hung in the air, but after a few seconds Duran looked at Kael and said grimly, “I’ll be honest, Kael. I don’t know how to protect you.”

He shifted his gaze to Priscilla and, shaking his head, continued:

“The outsiders have requested assistance from the Hall of Ancient Research. They want us to serve as translators. To help them question the residents and the Elders. They need information on every gifted young mage. Every talent.”

Hearing this, Kael felt the pieces fall into place—too clearly to ignore. He bit his lower lip in irritation and muttered quietly, “The chance that no one mentions me is close to zero.”

Duran nodded without the slightest hesitation.

“Not almost. There is no such chance. Some of the minor Elders have already begun currying favor with the outsiders, seeing personal gain in all this. A mere hint would be enough for them to ingratiate themselves.”

There was no condemnation in Duran’s voice—only tired disappointment.

The Black Rat lifted her head sharply.

“We can hide Kael. Let them search.”

But Kael immediately shook his head.

“Pointless. That would only arouse more suspicion.”

He fell silent for a second, then added more seriously, “And once the outsiders send their mages here, I’ll be trapped. I can’t hide for the rest of my life. And my family could suffer again.”

Priscilla frowned and cautiously suggested, “If our people are acting as translators and intermediaries, we can order them simply to omit you. Not include your name on the lists.”

Kael looked at her calmly, but firmly.

“If even one person slips, it’ll raise serious suspicion. And once they start checking lists and comparing information… it will only get worse.”

He shifted his gaze to Duran, then to the others, and added without hesitation:

“In this situation, running won’t solve anything. It might be better if I play along with them.”

His words hung in the air.

Such bluntness and almost cold readiness to accept the inevitable surprised the others. Even the Black Rat fell silent for a moment, studying his face closely. Riada looked as though she wanted to object but could find no argument.

Priscilla narrowed her eyes slowly.

“It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind,” she said quietly. “Do you truly intend to go with them?”

Kael did not answer at once.

He stood motionless, yet inside his thoughts raced at a frightening speed.

“Running or hiding isn’t an option for me. That means I don’t really have a choice. In fact, it’s already decided.”

He exhaled slowly.

“If that’s the case, I need to think differently. How to make the most of this situation. How to protect myself. And how to protect Lasthold’s talents.”

His thoughts fell into place with startling clarity.

“I helped Roselle, Girren, and Lissandra. Their progress is too noticeable. If the outsiders start testing people, they’ll almost certainly take them.”

His gaze hardened.

“Leaving them unsupervised is a bad idea. That would mean I’d be handing them over myself.”

But following the anxiety came another thought—colder, more calculating.

“This doesn’t have to be just a threat. It could be an opportunity for me. A chance to learn what’s happening in the Human Dimension. To understand how strong the Blood Dragon Empire truly is. And to leave Lasthold far sooner than I’d planned.”

There was no confusion left in his eyes—only calculation.

“If I’m going to end up on their lists anyway,” he thought calmly, “it’s better to be inside the process than shut out of it.”

“At least then I can influence what happens. The question isn’t whether to go. The question is… how to turn it to my advantage.”

Seeing that he still hadn’t responded, Priscilla called to him more gently, but with insistence. “Kael?”

At the sound of his name, he flinched, as though returning from the depths of his own thoughts back into the hall bathed in morning light.

“If I go with the Blood Dragon Empire…” he began, “it might even be for the better. I understand their language fairly well. I could be of use to Lasthold’s talents.”

He narrowed his eyes, and a hard resolve entered his voice, “There’s no escaping reality. But we can adapt to it and find a way to turn it to our advantage.”

Riada immediately shook her head.

“I don’t like this idea…”

The Black Rat nodded darkly as well, not hiding her doubts.

“Neither do I,” she added. “Too many unknowns.”

Duran wearily ran a hand over his face, yet there was understanding in his eyes.

“I dislike everything about the outsiders’ arrival,” he admitted. “But unfortunately, we cannot influence that now.”

He turned his gaze to Kael and added, “His reasoning makes sense.”

Kael, still turning over possible scenarios in his mind, murmured quietly, “Perhaps it won’t be as bad as we think. But it’s better to take precautions…”

“What do you mean?” Priscilla asked warily.

Kael raised his eyes and answered without hesitation:

“Let the Forsaken Brotherhood remain underground and recruit those who do not wish to submit to the outsiders. Until we understand what the Blood Dragon Empire truly is, it’s important to preserve Lasthold’s ideological core. Otherwise, we—and our culture—will simply be erased within two generations.”

The Black Rat reacted instantly. A spark of challenge flared in her eyes.

“A task made for us,” she nodded shortly. “It’s not the first time we’ve worked in the shadows. And ordinary people know little about us. The outsiders are unlikely to concern themselves with something like that.”

She smirked, though the smirk was hard.

“And if they do… all the more interesting.”

Duran slowly shook his head, stepped toward Kael, and gave him a fatherly clap on the back.

“I’m sorry, Kael. Trials find you once again.”

Kael held his gaze calmly and replied with a faint smile, “Trials are a good thing—if you choose to accept them.”

He said it without bravado, simply as a fact.

But inside, his thoughts were far colder: “In my position, cooperation is wiser than resistance. I need to earn their trust. Prove my usefulness.”

His gaze darkened almost imperceptibly.

“And at the first opportunity, craft the Soul-Veiling Amulet.”

Deep within his consciousness, the memory of his old vow flared—a vow he had not forgotten for a single moment: “My true goal is to make the God of Knowledge and Madness pay.”

With that, he continued his calculation inwardly:

“A great empire may become a more suitable instrument for me. There are more resources there. More knowledge. More disciplines. And far more opportunities for growth as a mage…”

✦ ✦ ✦

At that very moment, while Kael was discussing with his allies how to act in a situation that only yesterday had seemed impossible, in another part of the city, within a spacious estate with a well-kept inner courtyard, the atmosphere was entirely different.

The red cloaks of the outsiders were neatly folded by the entrance, their armor partially removed. Low tables with refreshments stood in the center of the room. From where they sat, there was a clear view of the inner courtyard, where a small fountain murmured softly.

At one such table sat Cornelius and the bald man with the snake-face tattoo. Before them stood platters of food and a jug of dark wine.

A young maid approached swiftly and carefully set a plate of freshly cooked meat before them. Bowing as low as she could, she hurried away without meeting their eyes.

Cornelius followed her with a calm gaze and, taking up his knife, said unhurriedly:

“The architecture here is remarkably reminiscent of the Primal Element Empire. The same inner courtyards, the same proportions of columns… It seems most of the city’s inhabitants are their descendants.”

The tattooed man gave a short nod but did not pursue the subject.

“How long do you intend to remain here, Elder Cornelius?” he asked, turning to the matter at hand.

Cornelius sliced off a piece of meat and answered as though discussing an ordinary logistical concern:

“We will question the residents. Study the records of their school, their craft guilds, and their magisters. As soon as we gather all the promising youths, we’ll return to the capital.”

The bald man took a sip of wine and added thoughtfully, “If this city exists… then others may as well.”

Cornelius nodded slowly.

“You are right, Severus. That is precisely why we must subjugate Lasthold quickly and without drawing attention. If we turn it into our outpost on this side of the Central Dragon Mountains, further exploration of the lost part of the continent will be far easier.”

Severus nodded in understanding and, leaning back in his chair, remarked calmly:

“In fairness, we are very fortunate. Lasthold lies only two hours’ walk from the path we carved through the mountains. It is quite literally a gift from God.”

Cornelius smiled in satisfaction and raised his goblet, allowing the ruby wine to catch the sunlight.

“The God of Blood and War will be pleased with the new flock,” he said with gentle conviction. “And the Emperor—with new warriors and artisans. If all goes smoothly, we’ll soon strengthen our legions with fresh blood.”

Severus merely grunted, seeing no reason for doubt.

“There will be no complications. They are too weak to resist.”

Cornelius slowly shook his head as he speared another piece of meat.

“Do not underestimate them. In closed communities, true gems sometimes emerge. And isolation can give rise to unexpected ideas.”

His eyes gleamed faintly.

“I’ve already noticed one interesting boy…”

Severus raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

Cornelius smirked.

“When we stood at the gates, there was a youth in the crowd with a very solid magical foundation. Remarkably pure and deep for his age. And it seemed to me that he understood our language somewhat. Every word I spoke brought not confusion to his face, as with the others, but shock… and thought.”

The old man narrowed his eyes, as though replaying that brief moment in his memory.

“If I’m not mistaken, he could one day become a very useful pawn in our hands.”

With those words, Cornelius placed a piece of meat into his mouth, already mapping out future moves in his mind—moves in which Lasthold was merely another piece on the board.