Redemption Arc

Lucian walked down the steps that he’d taken once before to fight against that ogre. Already, he was feeling some trepidation. Perhaps it was the memory of the fight, or perhaps it was knowledge of what was to come. Regardless, he made it down to that large underground hallway and continued toward a very familiar place to anyone who had played War of Four.

After reaching the room in which he had fought the ogre, he walked up the spiral staircase running along the wall. After a fairly long trek, he made it to the Concord’s meeting room. Even though it was familiar, that didn’t make it less strange to see in person. It was the hub from which every mission in the game was launched.

The meeting chamber of the Concord was visible upon entry to the Fourth Canon—it was the building protruding upward past the triumphal arch. It had been placed in the middle of the canal to symbolize both its importance and their transparency. Looking outside of the windows, Lucian could even see a few gondolas passing by.

The room itself was a dignified work of art. The floor had been painted to be a map including each of the four great powers. Wrapped around it was one large half circle of a table, with each seat facing the map on the floor. There were thirty seats—six Student Ambassadors from each nation, one Head Student Ambassador, four Chancellors, and lastly… the student auxiliary’s seat, sticking out like a sore thumb on the edge of the table and disturbing the even distribution of chairs. Most of the seats were filled by familiar faces.

“If it isn’t the guy who saved my life,” called a familiar and friendly voice loudly. Lucian turned his head to see Rowan walking up to him with his arms outstretched. “Right on time, too. You had some people pushing to start the meeting without you.” He gestured. “Sit down, we’ll get started.”

Lucian scanned the many familiar faces that were present here today. Twenty-four heavy hitters… and he was the weakest of all of them. There seemed to be a lot on enmity directed his way. Ironically it was heavier from the side of the Empire of Riverra, his homeland—they knew him better, so they hated him more. None of the chancellors were here, not even Metterand. It’d be a while before they convened again, as their home countries needed to send over new appointments.

Lucian’s seat had been placed beside Miriam. This was ordinarily when the player was first introduced to Lord Lucian Villamar. In the War of Four, Lucian threw a little fit about being seated next to an elf—and even worse, a diseased one. Certainly not an aspect of the original game worth preserving. Lucian sat beside Miriam without complaint. She had removed her prosthetic leg to sit comfortably, and it stood beside her. It was quite tall, as her good leg was exceptionally long.

“Alright.” Dean Mortimer came to attention. “Ordinarily the chancellors of each of the four great powers would be here to help guide all of you through this process. I’ll be stepping in and aiding you on their behalf until they can provide new appointments.”

The dean walked out to stand on the center of the map painted on the floor. “All of you are here today because you’ve been recognized as the future leaders of your generation, demonstrating excellence in the selection process.”

Lucian noted a few glances sent his way—silent aspersions of his ability.

“If you’re going to be the leaders of the next generation, it’s imperative that you not only form ties with those from the other great powers, but also come to understand what burden leadership places upon you.” The dean looked between all of them, then pointed at the ground. “We experienced a crisis in this very building. And in times of crisis, formidable leaders are most needed. You are expected to demonstrate excellence and composure so that your example reverberates down to the rest of the students. We’ll be doing an investigation on the attack that occurred, and when the time comes, you may be expected to resolve that incident to your homeland’s satisfaction.”

Lucian looked at the twenty-five Student Ambassadors. Each of them were colorful characters, but the designation of excellence definitely suited them.

“As for the burden of leadership…” The dean walked off to the side, where a small table held a stack of papers. “You’re going to be given more practical assignments that give you firsthand experience with sensitive diplomatic incidents you’ll be encountering constantly in the future. To begin with, banditry. It’s a simple-sounding, but ultimately complex issue, because many brigands, bandits, and pirates are deserters.”

Lucian leaned back in his chair with some relief when he realized that his intervention hadn’t yet changed anything. He already knew what was on the paper. And the next person to speak…

“Bandits in the Confluence?” Olivia Vantz-Leon spoke up, reading from the paper just as Lucian remembered. “We’ll be fighting people?”

“Yes,” Dean Mortimer confirmed. “The Confluence is a hub of trader activity. Most merchant vessels traveling along the Lurund River pass through here—it’s where various tributaries join the main river. This band in particular appears to have subsumed several smaller bands of vagabonds that arose from the floods in the region a few months back. They’re raiding by ship, even.”

“Makes them pirates, no?” spoke a tan man who had his feet up on the table—Isran Dumane, distant ancestor of the founder of the Confederation of Veen. He was the de facto figurehead of the Veenish Student Ambassadors. He was quite stylish, with gold decorating him frequently in contrast to the black uniform he wore.

“Whatever they are, they need to be dealt with,” said Prince Denzel Riverra, second-in-line to the throne of the Empire of Riverra. He was the brooding type. He and Lucian were cousins, and the two of them looked quite similar. Denzel looked sterner than Lucian, though, and had eyes like rubies.

Rowan leaned in. “Hold on, hold on. Before we throw ourselves into battle, we’re not going to dedicate more time to looking for the culprits of the attack on the Concord?”

“Leadership means standing tall in times of crisis,” Olivia argued.

Isran looked at her with a faint smile. “Also means not doing anything stupid.”

“No one is more aware of the dangers than I am, especially after the disaster in this place,” Dean Mortimer cut in loudly. “We’ll being taking extra precautions. The area is being surveyed ahead of time by our top people. Once the area is deemed to be clear, we’ll be heading out. I suspect it’ll take two weeks.”

Not enough precautions, thought Lucian, shaking his head slightly.

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The demons thought to make an international incident out of this bandit hunt. From the beginning, it’d been bait. Ultimately, Rowan takes command of a group of eight plus Lucian, and leads them to safety—or not, if the player makes a mistake. Even in the War of Four, death had always been a very real possibility. In hardcore, the game autosaved any time a unit died. And in this new reality… no saving at all.

Rowan seems the same as he was, Lucian thought. Let’s hope he knows what he’s doing regarding battlefield tactics, elsewise… things could go south really quick.

“Ordinarily this would be the time where we discussed petitions sent in by the four great powers.” The dean shook his head. “Given that none of the chancellors are present, any discussion of the petitions is ultimately irrelevant because they have the final say. By the time you’ve returned from this mission, I’m sure your homelands will have sent replacements. Take the time to review the details about these brigands, and get to know one another. I have duties to attend to. You may leave when you see fit.”

Dean Mortimer said no more, quietly heading down the spiral staircase that led out. This was generally where the player would run around and introduce himself to all the Student Ambassadors. Lucian would need to go on an apology tour before he could do anything like that. The strange thing was…

Know these people’s whole life story, Lucian thought. Know their insecurities, the stuff they keep private… it’s a bit weird to just strike up conversation.

“What do you think?”

Lucian turned his head. Miriam propped her elbow on the table and leaned her head on her hand, staring at him. In War of Four, a lot of people talked about her unnerving eyes—only so much could be conveyed in a game, but Lucian felt it now. They were teal, and felt like they didn’t miss anything.

“The dean’s trying to regain some trust from the nations,” Lucian said, stating no more than the obvious. “He wants to use us to reassure things are normal, and that the attack was a rogue incident.”

Miriam kept staring for a few seconds. Then, she offered her hand and introduced herself, saying simply, “I’m Miriam.”

“Lucian,” he returned, shaking her hand. Her fingers were quite long, and her skin felt quite smooth—each trait a subtle reminder she wasn’t human.

“If you have time, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you later,” Miriam said. Lucian couldn’t help but raise a brow. “I was hoping you could give me a leg up.”

Lucian smiled. Miriam was perennially non-serious. She liked making jokes at her own expense to make people uncomfortable. Still, she was typically very distant from people. He wondered why she’d be approaching Lord Lucian Villamar, of all people.

“Planning to attend alchemy lessons after this,” Lucian responded. “If you’ve got the same destination, we could walk and talk.”

“It’ll take you twice as long,” she cautioned him, resting her arm on her prosthetic to emphasize its existence.

“But it’ll feel twice as short, I hope,” Lucian finished.

Miriam smiled faintly, then turned back to the papers that had been handed out. Lucian did the same, contemplating leaving early. After a while…

“Lucian,” someone else called out. He looked up to see Denzel watching him. “I’ve heard that, for once, you’ve not embarrassed your homeland. Heard that you and our Head Student Ambassador earned some glory fighting an ogre.”

Lucian looked around briefly. All eyes on were on him. The prince was addressing him personally—how could they not look? There was a matter that Lucian had been tossing around in his head for a long while now. Mending his reputation wasn’t even half as important as mending his prowess, but it still did matter somewhat. He felt some indignance at the notion of apologizing for things he didn’t do, but…

Even if Helen wouldn’t take it, maybe some people here might. Apologizing would be the right thing to do, right? Lucian thought. Swallow the pride, say the words.

“I hope you can continue on in this fashion, for the good of the Empire of Riverra,” Denzel finished.

Lucian rose. “Perhaps I should take the opportunity to… apologize for some of my past behavior.”

Denzel laughed. “Apologize?” He leaned into the table. “How many apologies have we heard from you? Nothing you could say any of us will believe. You cause problems, say some words, and think things’ll be forgotten. When will you learn?”

“Hey… why don’t we take it easy?” Rowan suggested.

“Forget that,” Denzel said, staring at Lucian. “You want to apologize, cousin, make up for what you’ve done? Stop embarrassing the Empire of Riverra by having your father pull strings to grant you unprecedented positions. Stop causing problems for everyone around you. You could resign, right now. You’re more useful staying out of sight, out of mind.”

The words that Lucian were going to say caught in his throat. After he’d stood, everyone was watching him.

They won’t accept an apology, Lucian realized, looking at several hardened faces. They all think I’m trash. Worthless. I get where they’re coming from… but why the hell should I live life on my knees? If they think I’m an asshole anyway…

“You want me to resign?” Lucian said. “If you’d been in my shoes against that ogre, you’d be dead. Not only that—Rowan, too. That’s to be expected. You’ve a history of being terrible at protecting things, no? It’s probably safer being your enemy than it is being your friend, Denzel… or even worse, being your family. Your enemies have a better chance of survival.”

Denzel stood up quickly enough to throw his chair back, and he slammed his hands on the table. Veins bulged on his neck and forehead. Lucian had gone for a low blow, striking at a deep insecurity Denzel had—namely, his self-perceived lack of ability protect his mother from factions within the imperial court. He felt a little guilt goading the man, but far more than that, Lucian felt like he’d just relieved himself of a great pressure building within. He felt like a balloon that had about to burst, suddenly opened. People had been cursing Lucian openly and often for days. He didn’t have the patience of a saint.

Denzel calmed himself quickly. He pointed at Lucian. “Maybe you’re right. We’ll see how things really are when it comes time to deal with these bandits, no? I know your father is playing close attention to these things. With his recent illness, he’s especially concerned about his successor. After all, not just anyone can inherit the Duchy of Villamar.” He sat down after that.

Notably, Denzel left the title of ‘successor’ open-ended. Duke Cyril Villamar’s heir was an important plot point in the game—given his uselessness, Lucian wasn’t included in the duke’s will, and many people already heard rumors of this.

Lucian sat down after Denzel, deciding to let the matter die with that. If the player sided with the Empire of Riverra, it was something of an anti-hero route. The Student Ambassadors from the empire were a lot more… morally gray, suffice to say, in comparison to those from the other nations. Nevertheless, they fought against the demons, and they were highly competent.

Maybe I don’t need to make amends, Lucian reflected. Those bastards sitting over there prove that if you’re competent, that’s enough. I’ve got enough problems without having to live life walking on eggshells.

Besides, it felt a little good putting Denzel down. Perhaps he was more like the original Lucian than he thought.

Miriam stood up, and then started putting her prosthetic leg on. “Shall we?” she asked Lucian.

Lucian nodded, then stood up to join her. He was curious what this was about.