Redemption Arc

Lucian drifted back to his apartment in Verne on a gondola that he currently shared with Helen and Olivia. Miriam and Rowan had taken earlier stops because their cantons were closer. He found himself staring at the new vaguely cross-shaped mark on his hand.

What did it mean to be an Inquisitor?

Lucian didn’t have a grand philosophical answer, but he had a practical one. In War of Four, it meant being rewarded for something that the player was already going to be doing a lot of, anyway—namely, killing demons and things influenced by demons. That was why it was so important to get this mark as soon as possible. Even in the second story mission, it came in handy.

With this mark, he became a demon bounty hunter in effect. Ordinarily when someone killed a person influenced by a demon, nothing much came of it. With this mark, when a demonic host or someone simply influenced by a demon died in Lucian’s vicinity—indeed, he didn’t even need to kill himself—the lingering demonic essence would come to him and be subsumed into the mark.

In the War of Four, it provided an alternate currency that the player could spend. In this new reality, he wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. He certainly couldn’t open up some menu and scroll through his options. In the game, the options had ranged from permanent attribute and affinity increases to powerful one-time-use abilities that provided temporary buffs, explosions of power, and more. It was eventually also capable of granting a choice of a single unique ability. Naturally, Lucian had one in mind.

But if I’m going to get any of that, I need to kill someone possessed by a demon, or a demon itself.

Lucian knew plenty who qualified. There were a lot of demons hiding in plain sight in this city. Verne, being the diplomatic hub of this world, had an outsized number of demons within it. In the Collegium it was even higher. If he wanted to get a kill, he could probably get one. Lucian wasn’t sure that he was ready for that just yet, mentally or otherwise.

Shame I couldn’t get it before we fought those bandits, Lucian thought. The people there were definitely influenced by a demon. But… there was no way I could have handled the cathedral on my own.

The gondola came to a halt, and Lucian glanced around to realize that he’d made it to the canton where his apartment was. He rose to his feet, preparing to disembark. Surprisingly, Helen stood up with him. He raised a brow at her.

“It’s faster for me to walk from here. A bridge takes me right over to the Brumaire apartments,” she explained.

Lucian stared. He knew for a fact she was wrong—and not by a small amount, either. Either she was lying, or she was dumb. He’d be a bit generous and exclude the latter.

“Well, alright.” Lucian stepped off.

What was this about?

***

Helen had chosen to walk with Lucian on the way to her apartment, and on the way she stared at her companion.

Someone who would risk their life for Olivia like he did certainly doesn’t fit my definition of a bad person, Helen reflected. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t seem to fit the definition of someone with a magical disability. Perhaps the blessing he received helped? But that won’t last forever, she ruminated, lost in thought.

Still, Helen felt quite suspicious. She wasn’t alone. Rowan said Lucian was smiling at odd times, like he knew something. She hadn’t noticed, but Rowan was quite perceptive.

It always looks like he’s smiling, Helen thought as they walked. His lips are always upturned slightly like he’s got some secret joke. I suppose I’ve misread it often enough as condescension. Or… maybe I didn’t misread it at all.

Lucian brushed at his cheek. “Keep staring, I might have to start charging you.”

“Oh,” Helen said in surprise, looking away. “Forgive me. I was lost in thought.”

“What about?”

Helen briefly contemplated if she was making a mistake, but said outright, “You knew about the Inquisitor’s Mark, didn’t you?”

Lucian looked at his hand, perhaps by instinct. He didn’t say anything for a while, plodding along the streets silently. “Yeah, I had some idea.” He looked over and explained, “I’m interested in… history.”

Helen was surprised he admitted it so easily. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I wanted to be greedy without facing the repercussions,” he confessed immediately.

Helen couldn’t help but laugh, but she trailed off. “But… greedy? Then you know what it does?”

“Helps with killing demons,” he said immediately.

“And how precisely is that greedy?”

Lucian looked like he hadn’t honestly considered that before. “Well, I suppose… since Rowan is better at fighting than I am, it should’ve gone to him. He could’ve used this better than I can.”

“If Rowan is more skilled than you, then surely he doesn’t need such a thing,” Helen posited. “I can certainly testify that he was rather adept at handling Saltbelly and the drakelings. He looked positively overwhelming. I’ve never seen someone carry themselves with such decisiveness.”

“He looked positively overwhelming?” Lucian repeated, looking over. He studied her for a few moments, then nodded. “Interesting.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Whatever do you mean?” Helen pressed.

“Nothing. It’s a fairly solid ship. You’ll have steep competition, though,” Lucian said, eyeing her as if he was assessing her somehow. “Every sailor hopes to claim the flagship, but it’ll take as spirited a mariner as any to board. Are you up to snuff, Lady Helen Brumaire? Can you clamber aboard the great man-of-war as it paves its path toward destiny across the ocean in which there are many fish?”

Helen was just confused. “Where did boats come from?”

“Never mind.”

Lucian smiled again, like he had some secret joke and was condescending to her. This time Helen was almost positive he was, but his motives remained of-yet inscrutable to her. She had decided to forgive him for what he’d done in the past. It was the right thing to do. And thus far, it seemed even prudent.

But others… to others, I’m not sure any apology will placate them, Helen thought. Lucian… why did you do all the things you did?

As she lost herself in thought, a voice called out from behind, “Lucian!”

Both of them naturally paused and turned. She couldn’t miss Lucian immediately stiffening, clenching his hand tighter around his spetum. His features had been relaxed moments before, but now they appeared as they did in battle—hard, intense.

“Metterand,” Lucian greeted.

“What luck. I was just heading to your apartment,” the chancellor said as he walked up. He looked at Helen. “And you… Lady Helen Brumaire. Your aunt saved my life, most likely.”

Helen put on her plastic smile. His eyes uneased her. “I’m glad to hear of it, chancellor.”

Metterand said no more, looking back at Lucian. “You’ll be very pleased to hear my news. I received a rather interesting letter this afternoon. What might it be?” Metterand reached into his coat, and pulled it out. “A summons… from Duke Cyril Villamar.” Metterand held it flat out.

Helen didn’t miss the dread in Lucian’s features.

***

Lucian sat at the dinner table in his apartment, and across from him sat the chancellor who had delivered terrible news. Considering they had both just arrived, there wasn’t any food, but the chancellor seemed committed to staying for dinner.

“See? What did I tell you? I knew that my word could sway that immovable heart that your father seems to possess.” Metterand lounged back in the chair, his posture dignified. “Quite frankly, all of this lines up perfectly. I had need to return to the empire. I believe we can travel together.”

“…I need to stay here and train,” Lucian said. “If I take the time to return to the empire, my training could be—"

“I’m sure that your father considered that,” Metterand said, the vaguest hint of warning in his tone.

Lucian looked at the letter. It didn’t seem like something that was exchanged between father and son. It was addressed incredibly formally, as if he was summoning a servant rather than a family member. There was no explanation. Frankly, he didn’t have much desire to go. There were opportunities that he needed to collect here, and comparatively few in the Empire of Riverra that he could obtain 100% reliably.

Although… if this is reality, perhaps that can change. Lucian looked at the letter. What if I could get my allowance restored? If I could get access to the funds of the Duke of Villamar…

Lucian almost started drooling at the prospect. He would be able to overcome so many obstacles with that simple change. After having spent so many items in the cathedral, achieving a fat income stream could easily buttress all his currently lackluster preparations.

Lucian looked up as something came to mind. “If I could ask, why are you returning? Aren’t you in the middle of redrafting the Treaty of Verne?”

“Negotiations on that matter have stalled. I need to coordinate policy with the emperor,” Metterand explained.

It seemed like a pretty routine visit. Still, even if it wasn’t what he had planned, it gave him the opportunity to lay some groundwork.

The War of Four had a few major story arcs. The initial four each took place in separate nations. The first took place in the Empire of Riverra. The second took place in the Kingdom of Vantz. The third was in the Confederation of the Veen, and the fourth in the Republic of New Riverra. After that, war broke out, and the player had to choose a faction. From there, Verne turned from diplomatic concord to frontier military city for whatever faction the protagonist chose.

If the first story arc is the Empire of Riverra… during this visit, I can prepare the ground to completely monopolize a few opportunities, guaranteed, Lucian reflected. Still…

“Can we hold up departing for another week, at least?” Lucian asked.

“Why?” Metterand asked.

Lucian scratched his cheek, wondering if he should lie. He was bad at that when he wasn’t prepared.

“I was intending to challenge the monthly tournaments,” Lucian admitted.

Metterand laughed, then leaned in. “What? You, the tournaments?”

“No better way to gain hands-on experience than real combat against my peers,” Lucian said. “That’s why they do tournaments for the classes, no?”

The tournaments did offer some stat gains for participating, but that was only half of Lucian’s reasoning. The other was that they offered prizes for reaching certain places. Some of the items on offer were too good to pass up.

Metterand looked mightily amused. “Hmm… I’ll ask Prince Denzel.”

Lucian was confused. “Why do you have to ask him?”

“Because he’ll be coming along with us,” Metterand said. “Aww… don’t make that face. Don’t tell me you’re displeased to be traveling alongside the second prince of our great nation?”

Lucian was, but he held his tongue. Metterand probably realized that, because he chuckled.

***

“Lucian’s going to be participating in the tournaments?” Denzel repeated incredulously.

Metterand stood in gaudy white-gold garb, glittering by the window. “So the boy tells me.”

Denzel paused, thinking the matter over. He’d actually been considering attending the tournaments himself, but none of the prizes especially interested him. He thought the matter of returning to the empire took precedent, doubly so if it meant a potential audience with Duke Cyril Villamar.

“I have no problem with that,” Denzel agreed.

“Then it’s settled,” Metterand said, clapping before leaving the way he’d come.

Denzel walked to the window and looked down at the Collegium. Because of this delay, he could participate in the tournaments himself. He was interested to see where he stacked up in comparison to the other students. He ground his teeth together, thinking.

Perhaps… I’ll fight Lucian, he thought.

A faint smile graced his face at the thought.