Redemption Arc

For a few moments Lucian thought that he was sitting on a very big chair. He realized soon enough that he was small, and the chair was normal-sized. He realized this memory came from when he was a child.

“Lord Lucian. I’m coming in.”

Lucian turned his head to look at the door as it opened. A servant in a suit entered, his arms politely behind his back.

“Good evening, young master,” the man began politely. “Lady Olivia Vantz-Leon has come to the mansion alongside her father, Duke Axel. While your father and the duke are performing official business, it’s been suggested that you keep the young lady company.”

Lucian looked at his hands. “I don’t want to.”

“May I ask why?” the servant said patiently.

Lucian said nothing for a bit, then whipped his head over. “You could be making this up,” he said, though it sounded like the way a child usually lied—that is to say, badly. “I want to see my father and ask him myself.”

“I’ve just informed you that he’s in official business with Duke Axel Vantz-Leon. Your father is a man who cannot afford to be interrupted. You, too, will one day be called upon to uphold the Villamar name in official business.”

Lucian looked over. “But Duke Axel brought his daughter here for official business.”

“Duke Axel loves his daughter very much,” the servant said. The words were said without meaning, but in the young Lucian, the inevitable refrain rose to the surface.

Duke Axel loves his daughter… and your father doesn’t love you.

“Then I want to see my mother,” Lucian demanded.

“Your mother is currently in the mineral baths, purging her humors and restoring her nerves,” the servant continued. “When she returns—”

“She never does,” Lucian interrupted.

The servant sighed. “I will inform Lady Olivia you will not be visiting with her.”

As the servant made to leave, Lucian called out, “Wait.”

The servant looked back, and Lucian smiled. The room burst into smoke, reforming. When next the memory was visible, a brightly-smiling red-haired girl stared at him, her legs kicking back and forth while she rocked left to right. She looked to be having great difficulty keeping still.

“I’ve heard a rumor about you, Lady Olivia,” Lucian said.

“What do you mean?” Olivia said excitedly.

The room distorted into smoke, words half-remembered. When next clarity returned, Lucian sat at the windowsill, watching the gardens. Olivia sat on the bench in tears, crying. She was attended to by a servant from the estate. Lucian watched without any special emotion.

Then, moments later, Duke Axel walked out into the garden. He stormed to his daughter and kneeled before her, taking her in his arms. Lucian watched them talk. Slowly, the tears faded from her face, leaving behind only puffy eyes. Soon enough, that bright and energetic smile returned. Duke Axel picked her up, placed her on his shoulders, and ran around the garden as fast as he could. Even behind the glass, he could hear Olivia’s laughter and screams.

Their happiness carried on like that for a long time. When the pair finally fell out of sight, the memory distorted into smoke once more. He sat across from a woman that had gray hair and yellow eyes, and some features quite similar to his own. She pointed a finger at him.

“Wait here,” she said. “I’ll speak to your father about this.”

Lydia Villamar, his mother, walked toward a set of imposing double doors and entered. Lurking in the back behind a desk was a shadowy figure. Nothing was discernible about him. The door quickly shut. Lucian scooted off the seat and walked to the door, kneeling down to the crack at the bottom of the door to listen.

“…has to be done,” his mother said. “The servant told me that Lucian was probably doing this to see us.”

“I don’t see you hastening to keep the boy company,” responded his father’s deep voice.

“I tried. You know I tried. I just feel guilty about… about the way he turned out. His condition,” she said.

“I see.”

“You see,” she mimed. “He represents House Villamar. Even if he’ll never follow in your footsteps conventionally, we should at least ensure that he comports himself well in high society. You have to teach him how a gentleman should conduct himself, for the honor of our house.”

“I have no care about the honor of a surname,” the duke continued. “I’ve seen enough of the world to know bloodline is irrelevant to ability. The wellbeing of many takes precedent before that of a single boy. I have given him the means to achieve everything he wishes to. If he takes it, so be it. If he doesn’t, so be it.”

“So be it?” Lydia repeated. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say about your son?”

“The boy’s future is of no significance to me whatsoever.”

“Don’t say that!” Lydia reprimanded.

He heard a slam from behind the door. “It was your machinations that led to his existence. You made your bed, Lydia. You wanted a project. Do not expect me to forego attending to things that actually matter to fix your problem so that you can have pride in something you’ve put no effort into.”

He heard Lydia sigh, and then the sound of chairs scraping as he sat down. “He’s simply… not what I pictured. Perhaps if we had a daughter…I could find some joy in it.”

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The memory distorted into black smoke once again, and moments later Lucian sat at a table with Duke Metterand and Duke Cyril Villamar. For some reason, Duke Cyril’s figure was still shrouded in shadow. He looked almost demonic. They shared a dinner, though the food was unremarkable. Lucian was older—perhaps on the upper edge of his teenage years. After transitioning between the two, he could feel a bleak darkness within that hadn’t persisted in that of the boy.

“Lady Olivia is petitioning the Concord to have the stain of summoning a demon be taken off her father,” Metterand said. “She revealed some new evidence. While not entirely exonerating, it’s enough to muddle things. Ultimately… he could be cleared of some charges.”

Duke Cyril stared at his son-in-law. “Can we use that to gain any leverage over House Vantz-Leon?”

Metterand shook his head. “I tried to strike a deal, but some people just can’t do business. Her brother is very much a man of honor. He seems to wish to erase the memory of their father altogether.”

“I see.”

Metterand leaned in. “Considering how well you knew Duke Axel… if you wrote an open letter, opinion could sway. It’d probably be better for us if Axel remains disgraced, as many of our allies in their nation oppose House Vantz-Leon. We could earn more of their favor.”

“I’ll do it,” Lucian spoke up.

“You?” Metterand raised a brow. “I didn’t think you cared about your house.”

Lucian justified quickly, “It wouldn’t be a good look for my father to write a letter denouncing someone that he spent so much time with. It would harm his reputation. I was close enough to have some insights, but my reputation can’t be harmed further.”

Metterand toyed with his food. “Are you sure that any letter you write will be convincing enough?”

Lucian nodded. “I know people.”

***

Lucian came out of the memory and appeared back in the observatory. Olivia was still waiting for his answer.

That memory… that was a terrible thing for a young boy to hear. Judging by Olivia’s appearance, he’d been maybe ten, there. Acting out for attention—it wasn’t unheard of, but it seemed totally ineffective. Lucian had no strong insight into either Cyril or Lydia. Lydia Villamar was hardly mentioned in the War of Four, and Cyril died not long after meeting him.

Was it rote envy, then? Did Lucian envy Olivia’s relationship with her father? One thing was for sure, though. His parents weren’t innocent of Lucian’s outcome.

“Will you not answer me?” Olivia asked.

Lucian managed to look her in the eye. After mulling his answer for a while, he said, “There’s a lot of things that happen in life that you can’t choose.”

“You chose to send that letter,” she said.

“They didn’t want your petition to pass,” he said. “That was the bottom line.”

Olivia stepped forward. “So, what, you’re saying Metterand and Cyril used you?”

“Let me ask you a question, Olivia.” Lucian stood up, feeling a rising indignance. This wasn’t about Lucian, anymore—this was about him. “You think I want people whispering behind my back about what an awful piece of filth I am?”

Olivia, ever fiery, wouldn’t back down. “That’s not—"

“You think I wake up every morning looking forward to my day?” Lucian asked with a laugh. “I walk into those classes, and most of the students want to see me fail. Luckily for them, that’s usually what they see!” He started to pace around, ranting, “I’ve got that vulture in silk, Metterand, breathing down my neck. Now we’ve got demonic attacks coming left and right, and my instinct tells me there’s more to come. You think I go home bragging about what a nice life I’ve got? You think it’s real easy for me to get up out of bed every morning?”

“I—”

“You really think I want to be hated, despised, by most of the Student Ambassadors? Even the prince of my country wants me dead. Do you think I want to be in this situation, Olivia? Honestly? I’ll give you a hint. No, even better—I’ll tell you God’s honest truth.” He smiled in anger, and stopped pacing to get close to her. He loomed tall over her defiant face. “I’m here because I was forced to be here.”

Olivia stared at him, stunned into silence. Lucian took a few steps back, calming himself.

“I will try my very best… to fix everything I can fix,” he explained deliberately. “That’s what I want. If I can’t do that?” Lucian threw his arms up, sighing. “It won’t be for lack of trying.”

Lucian, with all he wanted to say finally out, walked toward the door. Olivia didn’t say anything to stop him.

***

There was a new awkward tension between himself and Olivia as they proceeded to the Scriptorium. But then, there had always been something of an awkward tension, and Lucian felt a lot better about being able to get some of the things bothering him off his chest. If it worked—great. If it didn’t? It certainly couldn’t get worse.

When Lucian finally spotted the grand archway leading into the Scriptorium, he had to speak up.

“I think there’s going to be a big fight ahead.”

Rowan paused. “How big?”

“Bigger than any of the others,” he said.

Rowan looked over to Helen. “Do you think there might be any alternate entryways? Any way that we might be able to get some positional advantage?”

Helen shook her head. “The Scriptorium was always kept in the very back of the cathedrals, usually underground, to keep its contents safe. To make it easier to guard, it only has one entrance.”

“Swell,” Miriam noted.

“…well, this is still our best bet,” Rowan concluded. “Is everyone ready for a fight?”

“As long as it doesn’t resemble that observatory!” Helen said enthusiastically.

They proceeded onward. After passing through the archway leading into the Scriptorium, they looked around. The places that they’d come from before paled in comparison to the beauty of this place. The ceiling must’ve been ten stories high. There was a gargantuan statue of a goddess holding her arms to the sky in the center of the room. A circular window at the top let a beam of light fall upon the statue. The ocean above warped the light, but that made it more beautiful, not less. There were bookshelves wall-to-wall, each staggeringly high.

But resting in the arms of the goddess statue, like she was holding up a beloved pet to the sky…

Olivia pointed upward. “Is that a damn dragon?”

“Nope,” Lucian said confidently. “It’s a Deepmaw Drake. I believe the local sailors call it Saltbelly.”

“That’s Saltbelly?” Rowan said, pointing. “How would you know?”

“Well, just look at it,” Lucian said, shrugging.

The bloated Saltbelly lounged in a beam of sun passing through the huge circular window in the top of the building. Its outer skin was a deep blue like that of the ocean, but its stomach was a bright white that had a crusty texture resembling salt. Its jaw hung partially open as it slept, revealing huge stained teeth. It looked like the biggest, fattest gator Lucian had ever seen.

“And those must be his kids,” Miriam noted, scouting the floor. Several things vaguely resembling the creature above moved about on the ground. “Drakelings. I’m not so sure about this. Drakes are… powerful. What do you think happens when we start killing the children?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever asked that question,” Lucian said, watching. “But I’ve got an idea. I know a thing or two about drakes, and…”