Redemption Arc

“Before Renewal Day begins, I’d like to remind each of you here today why exactly it is we call the opening of the Collegium Renewal Day,” the school dean said, his voice carrying by virtue of an aide projecting it further with wind magic.

Dean Mortimer was an old man, but had neither a stooped back nor sagging features. He had a certain sharpness to him from his neat white beard and his sharp blue eyes that made him look like an aged expert. He was—Mortimer provided gold-level archery instruction, teaching several invaluable skills.

Future events would prove he was considerably less suited to be the school’s dean.

Lucian, along with all of the other students in the Collegium, had gathered in the stadium to listen to the dean’s address before they were permitted to tour the premises and view which classes they might enter. The stadium was quite a large place, and thus it didn’t feel especially packed as they looked up at the dean from the stadium floor. Lucian hung near the back. He was tall enough to see over the crowd, and he preferred being near the exit.

“This day marks the anniversary of the Treaty of Verne,” Dean Mortimer continued. It was a familiar speech, but Lucian had skipped its cutscene enough it felt a little novel. “On this day ninety-two years ago, all four great nations came together in this place to sign a treaty ending a war that had gone on for five years. In so doing, they established both the Concord and this Collegium of Verne.” He gripped the podium and turned his head to look at the buildings all around.

“All of you are here today to participate in the renewal of that treaty,” Dean Mortimer said grandly. “Four proud, storied nations came together to fight the enemy of all: demons and monsters.” He shook his head. “They would love nothing more than for each of us to go to war. The way that we defeat them, then, is to remain united in peace and prosperity forevermore!”

Lucian thought it was a fairly reasonable sentiment. The lack of enthusiasm the dean’s words were received with was telling of the political atmosphere. Ninety-two years had passed without a major war, and that had bred a lot of unsolved political disputes. Most of the people here didn’t know anyone that was actually involved in the war that resulted in the Treaty of Verne. They had no idea of the horror that a war of that scale could bring.

“Today, the chancellors of the four great powers will sign their names on the Treaty of Verne to renew its terms, just as countless others before them have done. It is my hope that in the months to come, you will form great rapport with your fellow students and ensure that the dean who follows me can give a similarly sentimental speech,” Dean Mortimer finished. “But enough from me. Enjoy Renewal Day!”

Lucian elected to stand by the exit and watch people pass by to see if there were any faces that he recognized. In particular, he was eager to find the main character. As he did, he was struck by what he saw. Nearly every person that looked upon him had similar expressions when they saw Lucian.

Contempt, Lucian recognized. An endless crowd of contempt.

At best, people would look upon him with wariness. It wasn’t as though Lucian didn’t know why they were looking at him this way: Lucian Villamar had been quite a terrible person. But the human part of him—the part that was just beginning to accept his new reality, couldn’t help but speak up in his head.

I didn’t do anything to you. His met eyes with someone, and they quickly averted their gaze. I don’t deserve to be treated like this.

Lucian felt some indignant melancholy rising, and realizing that he was being foolish, quickly turned and joined the crowd in leaving to tour the Collegium. His mind couldn’t help but linger.

What the hell is even at the end of all this? he asked himself. Escape? Going back home? Or… is this just how things are, now? In a body not my own, surrounded by people that hate my guts?

Lucian broke away from the crowd as quickly as he could to find someplace quiet. Once he found a lone seat by a fountain, he pulled out his Evercodex, flipping through it quickly to distract himself. As he latched onto his plan of action, his mind didn’t have much room for the existential contemplations.

Just focus on the plan for the fight, Lucian told himself. Get the plan down, vacuum-sealed, no mistakes. Focus on the second of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs—safety. All those upper tiers can come later.

Lucian felt the melancholy wane a bit. Today, students were only allowed to take aptitude tests—there wouldn’t be any lectures going on. Considering he had until sundown for the attack to happen, he had plenty of time to waste. It’d be good to get aptitude tests done now while waiting for the assault on the Concord.

Not a chance I can prevent it altogether. If I tell anyone what’s coming, I’d just be painting a target on my back. The demons have infiltrators everywhere.

Lucian stood up, closing his Evercodex and stowing it away. For now, he should take the aptitude tests for the classes he wanted.

***

Lucian made it to the end of the campus before he came across the class he’d been looking for. The reason why it was so distant was evident immediately. A foul smell—tangy, acidic, sweet, and half a thousand other adjectives described it—wafted out from the doors. Lucian put one hand over his nose and proceeded despite the scent. Above the door was one simple word: alchemy.

Within was an utterly ancient woman. Lucian recognized her: Florence Baile, the Head Instructor for alchemy. She was a hunched old woman who seemed gentle and sweet. The only thing betraying some of what she did was the distant stare that said much with no words.

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Florence Baile didn't seem at all the mass killer that she once was.

That old woman had helped develop a plague that devastated the elves—most people called them quasi-humans in the War of Four—on behalf of the Republic of New Riverra. Florence was the former leader of an elite group of alchemists that had deliberately spread a plague to indigenous populations to enable New Riverra to conquer the island without exceptional resistance. The plague she’d help create only affected elves, and persisted to this day.

No one today knows that the perpetrators weren’t punished, Lucian reflected. The player has the choice to reveal that fact to the public, or keep it hidden and work with Florence to help develop a cure.

“Excuse me.”

Lucian heard a voice behind him and turned. Standing there was a familiar figure—he spotted her as an elf at once. She had deep black hair that was long, thick, full, and curled gently at the ends. She was tall, exceptionally lithe, and had sharp ears. One of her legs was missing, and in its place was a crude metal prosthetic. She had sharp teal eyes that had a certain haunting quality to them. She wore an outfit that had long sleeves and covered the neck, along with a glove on one hand. Those were to hide the traces of the disease she carried—the same disease that had taken her leg.

Her name was Miriam—no surname. She was a Student Ambassador from New Riverra.

“Sorry,” Lucian said, stepping aside.

Miriam nodded and muttered a curt thanks, then walked forward. She had to hike her hip with every step of that prosthetic leg of hers. Lucian followed right after her. Miriam was an excellent mage focusing on long-range attacks and alchemy. She was quite a distant person, but enjoyed teasing people. Her reason for studying alchemy was on display—hopes of curing her disease. As for Lucian’s reason…

Alchemy has low stat requirements. Most skills only need MAG, and not much. It synchronizes well with holy elemental affinity, because a lot of high-level potions need holy affinity, he reflected. This is one of the foundational disciplines I’ll need. Consumable items can bridge the gap I have with others.

In War of Four, Lucian had been an ally, not a controlled character—the player couldn’t use consumables on him. Now, conusmables were going to be a cornerstone of Lucian’s build. He’d need a metric ton of money, but he had some plans. He was already running low after buying what he needed at the House of Commerce.

“Welcome,” Florence said as he walked in. “Come in, come in. I’m the Head Instructor of the alchemy classes, Florence Baile. Take a seat anywhere, and an instructor will be by to assess your skills.”

Lucian followed behind Miriam to take a seat. Does she hate me? he wondered. He didn’t have any flashback, so it seemed not. When they sat down, she produced some of her notes and reviewed them. He watched her for a bit, and their eyes met briefly.

“Do you need something?” she asked.

Lucian shook his head. “No.”

She shrugged and turned back to her notes.

I don’t think she even knows who I am, Lucian realized with a smile. An instructor came over. It was time to start the aptitude test.

***

Lucian ended up having time for only two aptitude tests on Renewal Day. The first—alchemy—wasn’t especially humiliating. In the War of Four, alchemy recipes had just been ingredients alongside a training session to learn the brewing method. He knew the ingredients very well, but as for the actual alchemical processes, that was completely beyond his knowledge. The instructor recommended ‘unranked,’ but commended him for his memorization of the ingredients. Miriam jumped right to silver—highly unusual, but she’d already been practicing alchemy herself for a fairly long while, and started the game with 23 MAG—20 was the threshold for silver alchemy.

The second test was very embarrassing. He took the aptitude test for polearm fighting. Polearms were the natural choice with his holy affinity. There were quite a few excellent polearms that used holy affinity. The stat requirements for polearm skills typically relied on CON and STR. He didn’t quite know how stat requirements would be translated to reality, but those two were the most often raised by blessings, excluding MAG.

Either way, the polearm instructor made him look like a child. Lucian’s new body was very fit, but he’d never personally wielded a spear before. The man danced around it, tapping Lucian’s vulnerable points lightly with a staff. He wasn’t even trying to make Lucian look like a fool, but he did. The people around him, many of whom were nobles who’d been learning to fight since their teens, had some choice words.

“That’s the heir to a ducal family—you believe that?” someone said, and then their group laughed together.

“My kid sister could beat him,” one of them returned.

Lucian gritted his teeth and bore it. In his peripheries, a tall man smacked the one who’d spoke in the back of the head.

“People are here to learn,” the tall one said. “Don’t embarrass the Confederation, nor make enemies.”

Lucian glanced over, recognizing Arslan Alaar. He had tan skin and gray hair, cropped militarily short. Another Student Ambassador, one from the Confederation. People from the Confederation almost universally hated Lucian for a past diplomatic incident involving visiting dignitaries—Arslan was no exception, Lucian knew. He was simply concerned about propriety, dignity, and honor.

Naturally, Lucian’s verdict for the polearm aptitude test was also unranked. If he was going to learn to survive in this place, he definitely needed to attend those classes, low stat gains be damned.

Lucian had two more aptitude tests he wanted to take—holy magic and healing magic—but by the time he was finished with the polearm aptitude test, he was worried that taking a third might make him miss the main event. He returned to the courtyard, sitting on a spot that had a good view of the stairs leading down to the Concord.

The guards are already gone, Lucian reflected. That simple observation made him way more nervous than he’d been moments before. Pretty soon, the protagonist and his father Christoph will go down the stairs. The protagonist pesters him for a tour of the Concord, and his dad relents. Christoph is the Head Instructor for fire magic here, and remarks on the absence of the guards as unusual.

Lucian opened his Evercodex, reviewing it while keeping his eyes on who was coming and going. After a long while of nervous anticipation, Lucian spotted a tall man with long black hair in dark robes. Walking beside him was another person, but Lucian couldn’t distinguish any details from his position—a little infuriating. Soon enough, they started to descend down the stairs toward the Concord, and vanished from sight.

The attack’s happening soon, Lucian thought, shutting his Evercodex and stowing it away in his satchel.

He stood and walked toward the stairs, his heart pumping fast. As he looked around to be sure none were watching, the setting sun cast an ominous red hue over the waters of the docks.