Redemption Arc

Helen Brumaire hunched over a great many books in the library. She enjoyed reading, but she didn’t think this was the sort of reading that could be enjoyed—rather, it was a dense text listing heritage without great details. She cross-referenced names with another book, which provided brief biographies of some of the figures listed.

“Oh,” someone said, and Helen lifted her head. Rowan stood there, looking down at her. She had become fast friends with him after the first Student Ambassador meeting, as they shared some classes together. “Fancy meeting you here. What’re you up to?”

Helen quickly shut the books she was reading and moved them off to the side. “Nothing.”

Rowan eyed the books. “Villamar—” Helen covered the book’s title with her arm, and he looked at her. “I can probably guess. Considering the way you kept eyeballing Lucian during that Student Ambassador meeting… got a crush? Trying to find out if you’re too closely related for the faith’s approval?”

“What?! No!” she protested.

Rowan sat down across from her. “Was joking, but after that little outburst I’m thinking otherwise. He’s a handsome guy, a strapping ducal heir...”

Helen shook her head. “No. I was looking into his heritage, yes, but for an entirely different reason.” When Rowan raised a skeptical eyebrow, Helen felt she had to explain. “Recently, his holy affinity was tested. He has stronger affinity with holy magic than my aunt, who’s a gold-level instructor for holy magic.” She looked at him. “Was I really that obvious, watching him?”

“I don’t think anyone else noticed. I just tend to pick up on these things,” Rowan said with a shrug. He leaned in closely. “What’d you learn about Lucian?”

Helen stared up, a little flustered by his closeness. Rowan was quite handsome, and she found herself saying more than she ought to around him. “Why are you interested, if I might ask?”

Rowan met her gaze with his bright blue eyes. “Just curious. He did save my life. At the same time, I hear a bunch of rumors about him which are almost uniformly nasty. But then he’s got holy affinity, and he’s spending time with that one-legged elf without making a fuss. Plus… a few other things don’t align in my head,” he said, his eyes growing distant in recollection.

“Well…” Helen slid over the book once more, opening it up. “There’s nothing in his heritage that suggests he has any reason to possess such strong holy affinity. His father is Duke Cyril Villamar, the greatest dark mage in the world. His mother is Lydia Villamar, Cyril’s cousin—and she, too, is a very prominent dark mage from the same bloodline. Looking back ten generations, there’s not one single suggestion of a drop of holy blood.”

Rowan leaned his head on his hand. “Adopted, maybe?”

Helen shook her head. “Lucian is the duke’s spitting image. At best, he could’ve been born out of wedlock, and then claimed as Lydia Villamar’s child even when he wasn’t… but even then, it doesn’t make sense. No one has a strong enough bloodline to provide such strong holy affinity. Dark and holy affinities are opposites. Duke Cyril Villamar’s bloodline is so strong, at best someone could neutralize it, create a child with neither dark nor holy affinity—in other words, neutral.”

“So… what’s the answer? Is he a saint or something?” Rowan raised a brow. “I was under the impression personality mattered only so much for affinity.”

Helen sighed. “I don’t know. I…”

Helen trailed off. The other information that’d caught her attention was the fact that Lucian had partial arcane paralysis, but she didn’t want to reveal sensitive medical information. Helen herself shouldn’t even know, but she couldn’t help it now. There were cases where someone’s affinity had been artificially transformed by brutal experiments, but each of them had major repercussions. The results of those experiments were suppressed to prevent repetition, so Helen couldn’t find good information on it. But… given the severity of his arcane paralysis…

But who in the world would experiment on a ducal heir in that fashion?

“Something doesn’t add up,” Helen said simply.

“I’m of the same mind,” Rowan said seriously, and Helen met his gaze once more. “Instinct tells me to trust him, but… keep me up to date if you continue pursuing this, will you? As for myself, I’m going to try and get friendly with him. He’s been working too hard at training for me to have an opportunity, but for this first combat mission, that’ll change.”

“Why try and befriend him?”

Rowan fixed his sleeves. “Because I think the rumors about him are all nonsense.”

“You heard him in that meeting. The way he talked to Denzel,” Helen said. “And that was rather tame, as far as his insults go.”

“But he started to apologize at first. He only got hostile once others did. I didn’t miss the way his expression fell after Denzel started tearing into him. He seemed genuine about his apology. On top of all that, I heard he was a virulent racist, yet he spends a lot of his time with that elf.” Rowan shook his head. “No. Like you said, something doesn’t add up.”

Helen was afraid to talk to Lucian, frankly. He always knew how to get under people’s skin. It was like he knew their weaknesses. Even the unflappable Prince Denzel had lost his temper. What Lucian lacked for in physical or magical talent, he made up for tenfold in his ability to provoke people.

“All I can say is good luck,” Helen told Rowan.

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“Never needed luck before,” Rowan said, then winked before he walked away.

Why is he like that? Helen thought, flustered once more.

***

When Lucian headed to the Lowenthal estate, this time he wasn’t shepherded into the alchemy laboratory. Instead, he was met in the drawing room like a proper noble guest. Charlton Lowenthal was already sitting down when Lucian was escorted by the Lowenthal estate’s butler. He wore more dignified clothes than the alchemical raiment he’d donned in his greenhouse.

“Lord Lucian Villamar.” Charlton rose to his feet and greeted him respectfully. He had a cane with him. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”

“Considering your reputation, I think I’m the one who should be saying that,” Lucian said.

“Please, sit,” he gestured, and Lucian complied, sitting on the couch opposite him. Charlton sat, and rested both of his hands on his cane in front of him. “The reason that I called you here today is very simple. To begin with, I’d like to apologize to the discourteous behavior that I demonstrated after you fulfilled my request.”

“I get that all the time. Discourteous behavior, that is. Not apologies,” Lucian said somewhat cheerily, knowing where this was going.

“It isn’t right to leave you unrewarded after you spared me further embarrassment.” Charlton stroked his beard. “Furthermore, you made me consider a fact that I had been avoiding for a very long time by mentioning the inheritance of my alchemical recipes. This, too, wouldn’t be right to simply let pass unrewarded. You were right, and you made me see that. I think you knew what you were doing when you said as much.”

Lucian leaned back deeply into the couch. “Well, I mean… I am quite…” he swallowed, not wanting to come off as arrogant. “Anyone could have done that.”

“But you did it,” Charlton said, holding his gaze steady. He seemed much more lucid today. “For that reason, I’ve decided to rectify my mistake and grant you a reward worth what you did. Namely…”

Lucian waited for it with a smile.

“…access to my alchemical ingredients, to take what you need,” Charlton finished.

Lucian sat there blinking for a few moments. Then, he leaned in. “What?”

“You mentioned that you were studying alchemy. My greenhouse that you saw has some of the rarest ingredients in the world,” Charlton said proudly. “While I’ll ask that you check with me before you take anything so as not to totally diminish my supply, you may take freely from it as you please throughout your stay in Verne.”

Lucian couldn’t deny that was a tremendous boon. As a matter of fact, that was what the player received for completing the quest line with Charlton. It mitigated a lot of the boring parts of alchemy in the game. It typically came after following a long apprenticeship with Charlton to learn his potion recipes.

“Could I…” Lucian didn’t want to come off as entitled. “I’m more interested in knowledge than materials,” he said delicately. “Don’t get me wrong, I know how exceptional your greenhouse is. I saw it for myself. But… have you given my original request any further thought?”

“Learning my potion recipes.” Charlton put both hands on his cane, and then tapped it on the ground a few times as if debating saying something. “I’ll speak frankly with you. The idea of my potion recipes becoming an inheritance of House Villamar is utterly unacceptable.”

“Well, that’s…” Lucian trailed off. It sounded quite sensible, frankly. “Are you going to let them be forgotten?”

Charlton shook his head. “I’ve decided to find a proper apprentice. Someone with the talents and the interest to carry them on.”

Lucian stared blankly for a few moments as an unexpected variable appeared in his plans. He should have known that something would be off the moment that he saw Charlton had recognized him. Some of Charlton’s unique potions were absolutely 100% necessary for his survival. He could buy them from stores, but they were marked up by a factor of almost ten. Lucian would be spending any money that he did make on these potions if he couldn’t make them himself.

“Could I recommend someone?” Lucian said urgently, trying to salvage this.

“As I said, I’ll find an apprentice on my own. I don’t want it to go to someone that the heir to House Villamar would recommend. The likelihood that such a person might eventually grant it to your house is quite high, I should think,” Charlton said.

Lucian held his hands out as he explained with some fervor, “But he’s not affiliated with House Villamar. He was born here, in Verne. His name is Rowan Sumner. He’s the son of Christoph. He’s the Head Student Ambassador,” he said, hoping to divert it back to the original timeline.

“Yet even still, he’s someone that you’re recommending. That taints him,” Charlton said.

“What about…” Lucian swallowed nervously, seeing all of his plans get away from him. “What about a woman—a commoner. She’s an elf from New Riverra. She was afflicted with the Black Bloom. Very promising student,” he vouched.

“The urgency with which you’re speaking leads me to believe that my first instincts was right, and you do have some ulterior motives,” Charlton said. “I’ve given you what I’ve given you, Lord Lucian. I advise you take it.”

Lucian felt his hands getting sweaty. If he lost this, he’d lose so much maneuverability. He’d have to buy those potions—he couldn’t make them. And if that was the case, he could kiss half of his plans goodbye.

“You owe it to her,” Lucian said, hesitating to say the next part.

“I owe it to her?” Charlton repeated.

Even as he tossed the words around in his head, he knew the risks of saying this out loud.

“You owe it to her because she lost her leg from the Black Bloom you designed,” Lucian said all at once.

In a mere moment, Lucian felt the whole room grow cold. It wasn’t just his imagination. A chill quite literally permeated the room, emanating outward from the alchemist. Their breath started to be visible in the air. Charlton Lowenthal stared at him, his eyes like icy spikes.

“What did you say?” Charlton said, his voice rougher and harsher. There was no decorum to him now—there was a man who’d seen war. A man who’d ended a war.

“Yeah,” Lucian said, committing fully despite his fear. “You owe it to her. She’s devoting her life to trying to solve the mess that you, Florence, and all those other people in the Black Bloom Initiative created. You ruined the lives of hundreds of thousands of people, Charlton. This woman walks around on crutches half the time because of what you did, and it’s time you took responsibility for that.”

The chill grew ever worse as Charlton’s silence extended.