"...So go die."
As he spoke, Peter pressed a finger to the top of the city lord's head. The city lord let out a hideous shriek that was no longer human; his soul floated upward along Peter's finger, and inch by inch his flesh-and-blood body crumbled away. Then the soul was dragged into Peter's hand, and Peter smiled down at its curses and murmured to himself, "This is your honor." He drew a deep breath and inhaled it into his body.
The Magefoe apprentices belonging to Molan broke and scattered with a roar, fleeing in every direction. Peter Om killing the city lord was no different from being condemned by their own clan; their lives were worth less than the city lord's, and none of them believed Peter would spare them. Flight was their only thread of survival.
"Truly a delicious soul," he said in ecstasy. "What are you running for?"
A few short, clipped incantations later, the entire city lord's mansion was wrapped in gray energy. Not one Magefoe apprentice was left outside; all of them were sealed inside it.