Redemption Arc

Lucian stood on the front of the ship as it cleaved through the water. The wind sent his long gray hair flowing through the wind. He wore a set of purple armor which fit well and felt quite light—the color wasn’t his first choice, but it was the color of House Villamar, and the armor set was quite high-quality. The conversation he’d shared with Duke Clemens Metterand kept replaying in his head.

Both your father and myself expect you to earn glory in these Student Ambassador missions, Metterand had commanded. Your position is unique. You have the opportunity to be a counterweight to the Head Student Ambassador. Right now, your title is honorary alone, but you have the potential to make it mean more.

That alone confirmed some of Lucian’s suspicions—that, in the War of Four, it hadn’t been by Lucian’s will alone that he’d joined the frontlines. Maybe that was a complexity added to this new reality, or maybe that had always been going on behind the scenes. Regardless, it was only the beginning of the conversation.

I’ve recently read your father’s will, Metterand had informed him. At present, Prince Denzel Riverra will inherit Duke Cyril Villamar’s estate, alongside the whole of the duchy. He would sooner see the Villamar name die than to have the duchy pass into your hands. Every opportunity you’ve had, Lucian, you’ve squandered. No more.

Your father is ill, Metterand continued. And may not have long yet to live. You have little time left to prove yourself. You will have to earn the right to be named his heir once more… and there is no finer place to earn that distinction than on the field of battle.

Another angle of manipulation. Another justification as to why Lucian behaved as he did, at least in the events of War of Four. It was far from the most egregious thing Metterand said.

Your sister… Metterand had said, walking close and placing his hand near Lucian’s neck. I’m sure I need not remind you, but she’s feeble-minded. Her antics have troubled me greatly. When she was the daughter of the Duke of Villamar, this was something that I could overlook. But when your father dies, and Prince Denzel accedes to the title of Duke of Villamar… she will merely be his cousin. I am a man of practicality. What reason have I to keep a dimwitted bride of little pedigree?

Lucian recalled Metterand’s haunting clouded eyes, right alongside the words that came next.

I sincerely hope you’ll give me a reason I should not oust her from my home once your father dies.

As the wind whipped at Lucian’s face, his eyes watered—whether from the thought of that or the wind itself, he honestly couldn’t say. Metterand was obviously threatening Lucian using his sister, Cate Villamar. The chancellor likely wouldn’t use the threat on Lucian if he didn’t think it would work. Ultimately, Metterand would die before Duke Cyril Villamar, but…

It would explain a great deal about Lucian’s behavior.

It didn’t even begin to justify the things he’d done before it, but it did help clarify his actions during the War of Four. None of that had ever bled through in the dialogue Lucian had, though. He did remember Lucian expressing some fondness for his sister, Cate, but he wasn’t sure if it was to the extent of rushing forth suicidally in battle.

“You look like you’re contemplating matters of life and death,” Rowan said.

Lucian turned his head to see the black-haired man hop up on the railing just beside where he leaned.

“We’re going into battle, aren’t we?” Lucian pointed out.

Rowan looked out to the water. It couldn’t be called the sea—they were sailing up the Lurund River, making their way toward where several tributaries converged. It was the heart of activity in the commercial networks spanning the river.

“From what I’ve heard, the dean is sending enough trained experts along with us it’s hardly a combat mission,” Rowan said. “It’s like those hunts you nobles have—they’ll flush out our quarry so that we can get clean, easy kills.”

Kills. Lucian really wasn’t ready to kill someone. He’d been planning to do it for days, but that still didn’t mean he was ready. Everything was lined up so that he could. But killing something that dissipated into ash, like that ogre, was going to be a hell of a lot different than killing a living, breathing person.

“You look a little pale,” Rowan noted.

Lucian scoffed, then deflected, “I always look like that.”

“Yeah, sure, but…” Rowan watched him. “I hear that you’ve been training very hard. Hell, I’ve seen it myself a few times. I don’t think you have any cause for concern. On top of that, you maintained your composure excellently during that fight. Even I was shaking in my boots staring down that ogre, ready to flee at a moment’s notice, but you stepped forward and put him in the ground.” He pointed. “Not to mention… I heard bottles clinking around in that satchel of yours. I assume you’ve got more self-defense items at hand, yeah?”

It seemed more and more like Rowan remained precisely as he had been in the War of Four. Perceptive, compassionate, and an excellent leader. That knowledge was just as heartening as the words that he provided to calm Lucian’s anxiety about what was ahead.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

“Never did want to kill anyone,” Lucian admitted. “It’s a shame this has to happen.”

Rowan nodded in agreement, then went silent for a long while. He kept casting glances at Lucian, and generally looked like he was debating saying something.

“This is probably… forward, but considering the gravity of the accusation… I have to ask,” he said as preamble. “I heard that you killed some Veenish nobleman,” Rowan said, and Lucian looked over. “At least… that’s the reasoning that some of them gave me when I asked around about why they hate you.”

Lucian shifted on his feet, looking back out to the river. “I’ve never killed anyone,” he said simply. “Never even tried.”

The old Lucian did, but… he hadn’t.

“Usually when enough people say something it’s usually true, but this time… something’s off.” Rowan studied him. “Can I trust you, Lucian?”

“I don’t know. Not fully. I’m still from House Villamar, and that comes with certain responsibilities,” Lucian said as honestly as he could. There was a lot that he had to keep from Rowan for both of their sakes. “But you won’t regret it if you do trust me.”

“You’re a man of paradoxes, are you? I suppose I’ll have to live with that.” Rowan gestured toward the river ahead. “How do you think this is going to go?”

“Disastrously,” Lucian said. “I think the dean pushed us into this before we were ready to show that the Collegium is still capable of handling things. Problem is, I don’t think the Collegium is capable of handling things. It’s gotten to the point where they’re appointing auxiliaries to the Student Ambassadors in exchange for help with their budget problems.”

Rowan scoffed. “C’mon. We’ve got plenty of tough folks tagging along. We won’t get so much as a scratch, surely.”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Lucian said with a sigh. “I really do.”

***

A messenger bird flew down onto a man’s arm. He had hair as white as snow, and wore a black cloth mask that concealed most of his features. He took off a parcel of paper from the bird’s foot and opened it up to read it. After reading through it for a while, he held it in his hand and conjured fire to burn it.

“They passed through the first checkpoint,” the man shouted, turning around to speak to those behind him. “The moment that I give the signal, break the dam.”

A large group of men gave back affirmative shouts. The masked man with white hair looked back toward the river. There was a dam there—behind it, the water was deep and high, but on the other side, only a slow-moving mass of water flowed gently downward. To say the least of things, if that mass were released… a flood would surely follow.

***

Lucian watched ahead as other boats screened the advance for the Student Ambassadors. They were making sure that none of the brigands would prevent their landing, and once they had, the Student Ambassadors would take care of the bandits to demonstrate joint cooperation in protecting the waters. It was meant to be a touching display of international cooperation, but if things went wrong… it could just as easily be an international incident.

Lucian reviewed his Evercodex, which had a detailed account of the battle.

In the War of Four, once you beat the boss, the river’s course will change dramatically, revealing hidden enemies and changing the battle’s geography. It’ll also reveal a blessing: the Blessing of the River Union. Lucian tapped his finger on its spot in his makeshift map. I need to be the one to seize it. It doesn’t have any abilities. It’s a straight attribute buff. It’ll provide another boost to MAG—enough to make me a serious contender as a magic-caster. Once I’ve seized it… I should be in the perfect position for the rest of the fight.

Lucian reviewed his damage calculations. He’d spent days and days of long work on his lessons. To overcome his poor talent, he needed to work proportionately as hard as he was untalented. If things remained the same as they did in the War of Four, his stats had risen this much after the lessons he’d taken.

HP: 14 (+1)

STR: 14 (+1)

CON: 13 (+2)

DEX: 14

SPD: 13

MAG: 16 (+2)

If he compared it to any of the playable characters from the War of Four, it was pretty pathetic growth. They’d have 4x that in gains, easily. But… it was enough. Provided he’d planned things out right, it was enough to achieve his aims in this battle. But he’d done enough challenge runs and speedruns to know…

Execution is just as important as the plan.

Lucian shut his Evercodex, stuffing it away into his satchel right alongside the many potions that Miriam had brewed at his request. He’d managed to get the ingredients from Charlton, alleviating much of his financial woes—in a way, things turned out even better than he expected. One small fortune in a wave of misfortunes. Hopefully that boded well for any improvisation that needed to happen in this battle.

“Arm up!” shouted the instructor managing their trip. “Arm up!”

Lucian turned his head, then walked toward the center of the ship. There, several of the Student Ambassadors were retrieving weapons for the fight ahead. Many of them had their own personal weapons. Lucian walked over to a spear and picked it up off the rack, and then ran his finger along its head. Then, he looked toward the island the bandits had settled on.

The ship they were on lowered its gangway to settle on the shores of the island. Rowan was the first to step aboard and head down. Lucian watched the distance, where he saw figures moving across the island behind some rudimentary fortifications. As the bandits came into view, he counted them. One, eight, nineteen, forty…

Fifty-seven. More than I remember, Lucian reflected.

An arrow struck one in the head, and he fell down.

Never mind.

The sight of death so close made Lucian uncomfortable. He walked down the gangway with his knuckles white from gripping his spear so firmly. It was time to find out what he was made of.