The Sorcerer of Port Victoria

Northwest of Silvermoon Bay lay Port Victoria. Dawn had just broken, and pale morning light pierced through the cloud cover to illuminate a bustling harbor lined with fishing boats of every size. Bare-chested dockhands hurried back and forth, their skin baked dark by the sun, while merchants on the shore argued fiercely over prices. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries mingling with the occasional blast of a ship's horn. A few fishermen murmured prayers toward the open sea, begging Umberlee, the Sea Queen, to quell her wrath so the waters might stay calm and horrors like sahuagin would not surface. This was Port Victoria, a city seated at the mouth of the Zeller River. It was a rare, deep-water haven and the largest, most prosperous merchant city-state in the Silvermoon Bay region. The city took its name from a hero of centuries past—Victoria, an adventurer from Greyport. Victoria had once led her fleet across the vast Western Ocean, amassing untold treasures over more than a decade before selflessly funding the construction of this magnificent port city. Yet others claimed their hero was nothing more than a pirate captain who lived by plunder, and that the city was merely a stronghold built for pirates to stash their loot. For that reason, some detractors mockingly called Victoria the "Pirate Queen." Centuries had elapsed, and Port Victoria was now ruled by a council of four noble dukes, with the most venerable among them serving as Lord Administrator. From high nobles down to commoners and thieves—and even notorious pirates—people of every stripe gathered here. Devotees of dozens of different deities lived side by side, while obscure cults lurked in the shadows. Today, Port Victoria was a swirling pool of mixed elements, often dubbed a "hothouse for schemers" by adventurers. In recent days, a host of mysterious "immortals" had appeared out of thin air, throwing the city's already turbulent state into deeper unpredictability. Atop Port Victoria's weathered stone ramparts, a ripple passed through the air, and a man clad in a gray robe and holding a bronze scepter materialized from nothing. He appeared to be in his fifties, with faint crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. His pale-green irises held a profound, arresting depth that lent him an extraordinary air of mystery. The man stroked his beard and gazed down at the bustling streets below, watching a caravan about to set out. He murmured softly, "Looks like I arrived a bit early. The Silver family's caravan has only just gotten underway. "Going by how the plot was supposed to unfold, the kidnapping shouldn't happen until five days from now. That's when I can make my entrance. "Tsk, ever since my imperial coronation, I've left all the grunt work to my underlings. It's been ages since I handled things myself. I've actually missed it." Rubbing his chin, he fell into contemplation. "Still, what name should I give this persona?" His eyes caught a fortune teller at a curbside stall drawing a tarot card. On it was an elderly man in a gray cloak holding a lantern aloft—The Hermit. A faint smirk curled the corners of his mouth. Clapping his hands together, he muttered, "Let's go with 'the Hermit.' "Hermit Albert. Sounds decent enough. It certainly carries an air of mystique." This "Albert" was none other than Cassius's Dragon's Simulacrum, an avatar carrying his true will. Now Cassius had arrived in Port Victoria, ready to set his plans into motion and muddy these already murky waters even further. *** Across the Faruq Wasteland, a caravan rolled southward, its destination clearly Port Victoria, several dozen li away. It was a formidable convoy: fifty horses, several hundred guards, and over a dozen wagons laden with heavy freight. The wooden crates bore an exquisite golden broom crest. That crest marked the owner of the cargo—House Silver, one of the four great families of Port Victoria. In stark contrast to their delicate, elegant floral sigil, House Silver wielded the greatest military might in Port Victoria, controlling the city's largest mercenary guild, the Hand of Mithral. Surrounded by an escort of guards, a luxurious carriage rode in the middle of the caravan, carrying a blonde woman in a flowing gown. She looked young, barely in her twenties, and wore the golden broom crest as well. Her name was Heloise Silver, the most cherished only daughter of the current Duke Silver, and widely regarded as the family's heir. Heloise drew back the curtain and peered out at the eerie silence of the wilderness. She said to the guard captain riding beside the coach, "Marvin, isn't it far too quiet out here? "Ever since we picked up the cargo in Greyport and traveled over a dozen kilometers south along the road, we haven't encountered a single merchant convoy. This is... thoroughly unnatural." The guard was a middle-aged man in his forties with a rough mustache, a long scar across his face, and standard-issue armor. He was the commander of the caravan's armed escort, a veteran guard named Marvin who had served House Silver for decades. At the moment, however, Marvin seemed rather distracted by the young lady's concern. After all, he had escorted House Silver's caravans for decades without incident, whereas the green Heloise had only been sent out by her father to get her feet wet in the family business. "Bandits have been running rampant across the Faruq Wasteland lately. Word is quite a few convoys were raided, so they've been taking the eastern detour to Greyport instead. But still..." Marvin puffed out his chest and said in a lighthearted tone, "Milady, we are House Silver, the rulers of Port Victoria. "No matter how blind those thieves and outlaws are, they wouldn't dare cross House Silver. If they really had the nerve to lay a finger on us and threaten your safety, we'd blow their hands off with our muskets!" Marvin patted the rifle in his hands, brimming with confidence, as though brushing off a trifling nuisance. Heloise furrowed her brows. She said nothing more, merely instructing him in a soft voice to stay alert and keep a close eye on their surroundings. As Duke Aiden's daughter, no one knew House Silver's military prowess better than she did. This caravan was escorted by five hundred and seventy-four well-trained house guards, fully equipped with the most advanced firearms purchased from the enigmatic Cinder Empire to the north. Even the standing armies of nearby city-states would struggle against them, to say nothing of common wilderness highwaymen. Moreover, the cargo they were transporting this time was of paramount importance. Inside the wooden crates bearing the golden broom crest were brand-new firearms, ammunition, and even light cannons. Basic rifles alone numbered over three thousand. During the brutal Battle of the Three Emperors, weaponry from the Cinder Empire had burst into the public eye and rapidly swept across the continent through the marketing efforts of the Waukeen Chamber of Commerce. Duke Aiden's motive for buying such a massive shipment of arms was crystal clear: to bolster House Silver's military strength. Heloise gazed out across the plains. The land remained steeped in stillness, broken only by the faint hum of insects. Just then, she caught sight of wagon wreckage among a heap of boulders in the distance. Looking closer, she spotted shattered wheels, severed arms, and even a crushed skull reduced to bloody pulp. *No. Carnage like that could never be the work of ordinary bandits!* As the eldest daughter of House Silver, she was well educated and had even trained as an apprentice wizard; she understood the terrors of supernatural power. Her expression shifted sharply, a grim shadow falling over her deep violet eyes. Reaching out, she called a halt to the convoy. "Marvin, stop the caravan." "Milady, we need to hurry. Lord Aiden said the cargo must arrive before dark—" "I said... stop. That is an order from me as the commander of House Silver's caravan." Heloise spoke with iron resolve, her clear eyes blazing with an authority that brooked no argument—a gaze unique to the blood of House Silver. Even Marvin felt a tremor run through his chest. "Understood, milady." Only then did Marvin take the command seriously. Somewhat resigned, he called out to halt the outriders and drivers ahead, bringing the entire caravan to a stop. Yet in the loyal veteran guard's mind, the fledging young lady was simply being paranoid, lacking the composure befitting an heir to a great house. They were right on the outskirts of Port Victoria. Who would dare cross House Silver while it stood at the height of its power? Just ahead lay the narrow Karl Valley, wide enough for only one carriage to pass at a time. House Silver's caravan stood outside its mouth, going no further. Marvin continued to persuade her, "Milady, you truly needn't worry. "I know this Karl Valley like the back of my hand. I've traveled through here hundreds of times over the past few decades. Passing through is easier than walking into my own home—" Heloise cut him off coldly, pointing toward the distant wreckage. "Marvin, maintain high alert and send an elite squad to scout that wreckage. If anything is amiss, we detour around the east." "But, milady..." Marvin tried to protest, but when his eyes met Heloise's uncompromising gaze, he lowered his head in obedience. After all, the woman before him was a young scion of the golden broom, someone very likely to become the next duchess. Just as he was about to dispatch his men, an agonized shriek ripped through the front of the caravan, instantly followed by shouts of terror and the panicked whinnying of horses. "Aaargh!" "Enemy attack! Protect the lady!" Marvin's nerves snapped taut. Quickly chambering a round into his rifle, he bellowed at the surrounding guards. He had truly never imagined that anyone would actually dare attack a Silver caravan! A sharp, synchronized clatter echoed as the disciplined guards swiftly chambered their weapons and formed a defensive ring around Heloise's carriage. Marvin vaulted onto his horse and spotted the source of the scream—a young wagon driver lay pierced clean through by an arrow, blood gushing from the wound. Immediately after, countless figures draped in black robes materialized from behind the boulders along the hillside, like shadows rising from the dark. "Praise be to the God of Dominion..." "You are the sole Lord of this world, the Master of all things. We offer sweet blood in sacrifice to You..." They muttered raspy incantations that sounded like low prayers, punctuated by bizarre, unsettling chuckles that sent a chill down the spine of even a hardened veteran like Marvin. Marvin dropped down from his saddle, drew his longsword, leveled it at the foes, and roared, "Damned cultists! Do you have any idea who you're crossing? "This is a caravan of House Silver! Your actions will bring down Duke Aiden's wrath! If you value your lives, get the hell out of here!" "Hahahahaha!" Chilling laughter rang out once more. A tall, gaunt figure in black robes holding a bone staff stood on the hillside, his voice raspy and grating. "House Silver... "Yes, that's them! Capture Lady Heloise alive! She will make the finest offering to the God of Dominion!" Marvin's face drained of color. Only now did he realize how catastrophic his negligence had been! These mysterious cultists were targeting House Silver—or more precisely, Heloise Silver herself! "Damn it! Move! Repel the enemy with me!" "Bol, take the personal guard and escort the young lady out of here at once! Not a scratch must come to her!" "Enemies coming for House Silver...?" Heloise looked deadly serious, but she did not panic. Escorted by her personal guards, she mounted a horse and began pulling back toward Greyport to the north. "Engage! Riddle these damned cultists with lead!" Marvin raised his rifle and fired at the black-robed figures on the hillside, while the caravan guards pulled their triggers in rapid succession. *Bang!* *Bang! Bang!* Hundreds of guards fired in concert. Gunfire roared, and bullets poured out in a torrential downpour, cutting down a wave of robed figures in the blink of an eye. "Keep it up! Gun them down! Show no mercy!" Yet the cultists continued to laugh maniacally, seemingly unbothered by the deaths of their comrades. The leader raised his bone staff, and a churning black mist swept forth instantly. Marvin cursed furiously, "Damn it, spellcasters!" The caravan's accompanying wizards hurriedly chanted incantations, sending flares of radiance from their staves, but the light failed to pierce the unnatural gloom. Meanwhile, Heloise and her escort retreating north discovered that the path ahead was blocked as well. Evil creatures—goblins, worgs, gnolls, and more—flooded into view, numbering well over a thousand. Many of them had black fissures running across their faces, their eyes turned pitch-black, wearing fanatical expressions as they chanted the name of the "God of Dominion." A monstrous army like this could never have been assembled on short notice. This was an ambush planned long in advance! Heloise waved a hand at the guard Bol beside her and said coldly, "Stop. They were prepared for us." Bol asked in a trembling voice, "M-Milady, what do we do now?" Heloise spoke with resolve: "Head back immediately to regroup with Marvin. It's our only option. We have to hold out until Father's reinforcements arrive." A falcon trained by House Silver was released into the sky carrying a brief distress message, letting out a sharp cry as it took flight. Heloise and her retinue wheeled their mounts around and galloped back to the caravan's defensive position. By now, the black mist around Karl Valley had grown thicker. The soldiers fired blindly into the darkness, but arrows continued to find their marks among them. Seeing Heloise return, Marvin gasped, his face full of guilt. "Forgive me, milady! It was my failure that put you in this—" Heloise cut him off, keeping her voice as steady as possible. "Marvin, this is a calculated ambush. "The north has been cut off by an enemy army. We must dig in and hold out until reinforcements arrive. From now on, all guards answer to my command. "And... give me a gun." Marvin froze for a second, then hurried to pull a pristine rifle from a nearby crate and placed it into her slender hands. Heloise tested the rifle's weight, deftly loaded a cartridge, chambered it, aimed at a robed figure a hundred paces away, and pulled the trigger. *Bang!* The cultist dropped dead. Marvin stared in stunned disbelief for several seconds before raising his own weapon to resume firing. Only then did he truly recall that she was the heir of House Silver—a bloodline known as the "Blade of Port Victoria." The firefight between the house guards and the robed cultists raged on, both sides taking casualties, but the caravan managed to hold its ground for the moment, keeping the crazed zealots from overrunning the line. "Ignorant mortals... "Do you dare resist... the grace of the God of Dominion?" Just then, the cult leader extended a withered hand, tilting his head as an eerie light flared in his pitch-black eyes. A massive black vortex materialized above the caravan, exerting an irresistible pull that tore up grass, stones, and even living men in its vicinity. "By the gods, what is that?" "Such... such power!" "No, no—!" The guards cried out in terror, struggling desperately, only to be yanked up into midair where their blood was drained dry in an instant. Even the rifles in their hands were sucked into the black hole, mangled into scrap iron. "The gods? The gods are nothing more than frauds and usurpers! "Only the God of Dominion is the ultimate destination of all things!" A rain of blood showered down from the sky. The robed leader spread his arms wide and threw his head back, reveling in the feast of slaughter. Heloise looked up at the terrifying black hole above, cold sweat trickling down her fair face as her hands gripped the side of the carriage with white knuckles. "This is... psionics." She had seen this power before, wielded by a monk invited by Duke Aiden, but the psionic black hole before her was far more sinister. With just this single display of power, hundreds of guards were thrown into utter disarray, leaving the cultists to press forward unchecked while the horde of goblins and gnolls closed in from behind. This was a premeditated assault—no, more accurately, an act of war. These cultists were declaring war on House Silver. *Siamorphe above, who can save us?* Faced with such an inescapable death trap, even the normally composed Heloise felt a pang of despair. Leaning against the carriage with her rifle gripped tightly, she could not help but wonder. At that very moment, as if in answer to Heloise's silent plea, a mysterious male voice drifted clearly into her ears. "Heh. To think that after a mere few centuries of sleep, these worms have grown so insolent..."