Redemption Arc

In the War of Four—and as Lucian was discovering, in this new reality—the Collegium held tournaments intermittently. Competition was an excellent method to foster growth, after all, and they provided fights with stakes involved. There were grander tournaments later in the year, but every month, certain classes would host in-class tournaments. In them, competitors were only permitted to use the discipline taught alongside mundane equipment.

Lucian wanted to join for a few reasons—the first was that they provided flat stat boosts; he didn’t know if that would hold true, but it was worth pursuing. The second was to gauge his ability. He’d written down the attributes of some of the attendees, and he wanted to see if he could beat those who he believed he could. The third was the prizes. They weren’t listed publicly, but Lucian assumed they were the same.

Lucian looked at the registration board for the tournaments. He retrieved the provided pen and wrote his name down, then stepped back to survey his competitors. Thus far, he’d registered for the holy magic and polearm tournaments, but he intended to register for far more. He needed to enroll in the classes, first.

“You really are registering,” someone said in surprise.

Lucian turned back to see Denzel walking up. With his gray hair and facial structure, they looked a little more like brothers than cousins. The prime difference between them was their eyes—Lucian’s were gold, whereas his were red. He took the pen from Lucian’s hand, then walked to the polearm entrant list.

“Polearms, is it… I generally use the sword, but I’ve practiced with them a fair bit. It’s fairly standard for an aristocratic education to learn a variety of weapons. Another responsibility of many you’ve foregone, it’d appear.” Denzel wrote his own name down, then turned to look at Lucian as if waiting for a response.

“How long have you been watching this board, waiting for me?” Lucian asked. “Couple hours?”

Denzel frowned, but didn’t rise to the bait. “You know what tournaments entail in the Collegium? One of the gold-ranked healing instructors casts a spell. Phoenix’s Watch. We’re allowed to fight until the spell triggers. And when does it trigger? Moments before death.” Denzel stepped closer until he stood eye-to-eye with Lucian. “I wonder who’ll be able to stand before Duke Cyril Villamar and claim to have beaten the other in combat. That’s if you’ll even make it far enough to fight me.”

Lucian could only smile broadly. Denzel glared at him a little longer before stepping off. What he’d said was true. The fights were technically real, and supervised by instructors using powerful healing magic. They would go until ‘death.’ Lucian would be the first to admit that terrified him. Perhaps learning how to take blows in combat would be a valuable experience—on hardcore, it was almost a necessity.

But tournaments weren’t battlefields… and what Lucian knew about these tournaments could fill a book. If his Evercodex qualified, they already had.

***

“You don’t offer rentals, do you?” Lucian asked, looking at the bill.

Darius, the merchant from the House of Commerce, stared at him with arms crossed. “This is a store, not a brothel. I’ve been giving you a slight discount because you’re a frequent customer, so look on the bright side.”

Lucian clicked his tongue. After the cathedral, he was broke if he bought what he needed. He could think of a few ways to make money in the Empire of Riverra, but whatever the case, his plans were slightly off-course. He was pretty accustomed to improvising, but it wasn’t something that he liked to do. Case in point, this tournament.

“Alright, fine,” Lucian conceded. “I’ll take it. You think… you think you could deliver it? It’s a bit… big.”

Darius shook his head, and Lucian sighed, staring at his haul.

***

“Lucian… I think we need to talk about your habit of taking ingredients,” Charlton said to him.

The respected apothecary Charlton Lowenthal had cornered Lucian in the greenhouse to discuss an issue.

“What’s the problem?” Lucian asked, adjusting the gargantuan rucksack on his shoulder. It was large enough he had to be careful not to bump into anything.

Charlton stared at Lucian, his gaze flitting between the bag and Lucian’s eyes.

“…you said I could take them freely,” he justified meekly.

“I was under the assumption that you would be personally brewing potions, not starting a greenhouse of your own,” Charlton said with a faint veneer of politeness.

“I am using them for potions,” Lucian defended, even though he knew he was in the wrong.

“Potions which you’re having Miriam brew,” Charlton pointed out. “Not only are you interfering with her apprenticeship, you’re also interfering in my activities. I have need of these ingredients.”

Lucian sighed. Another difference between War of Four and reality. He couldn’t wantonly ransack Charlton’s greenhouse to obtain unlimited ingredients without repercussions. Reality was a sad place.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Alright.” Lucian nodded. “I understand. Next time—”

“Next time?” Charlton interrupted.

Lucian dejectedly set the rucksack down, hanging his head sadly. He sighed and said, “It’s over for the little guy…”

“You’re the son of the most powerful duke in the empire,” Charlton rebuked, then picked up the sack. “Look… I can offer to sell you my ingredients at a good value—considering their rarity, that’s a great bargain for you. Anything other than that?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ll have to put my foot down.”

“Can I at least take the stuff that I need for a few potions that I want to use for the immediate future?” Lucian asked. “I’m broke, Mr. Lowenthal.”

Charlton stroked his formidable beard. “I suppose… I suppose I can allow that this once. After all, Miriam is precisely as exceptional as you claimed. Indeed, her talent is so formidable that it warrants a reward in and of itself.”

Lucian knelt down. “That good, huh? Well, I’m glad. Treat her right. Maybe you could convince Florence to give her private lessons, too.”

“Florence is busy enough with the Collegium,” Charlton said with a shake of his head. He looked at the ingredients Lucian pulled out. “Are you brewing a…? What do you need that for?”

“I see you’re still as sharp as ever.” Lucian closed the rucksack once he had the ingredients he needed. “What do I need it for? Juicing.”

***

“Today, I’ll be presiding over the tournament for the holy magic class. During each bout, you’ll only be able to employ holy magic,” Lady Lorenna explained, walking up and down the assembled contestants. “You’ll only fight people on the same rank as you. Unranked versus unranked, bronze versus bronze, silver versus silver, and gold versus gold,” she rattled off quickly.

“You’re barred from using any magical equipment,” Lorenna continued. “It doesn’t matter whether or not your family provided it for you or you earned it for yourself. This is a test of skill. Mundane, unenchanted equipment is permitted so long as—” Lorenna stopped as she walked.

Lucian stood there with a tremendous tower shield in front of him. He’d planted it on the ground, and leaned on it as he listened. Lorenna wasn’t the only one that had noticed him. A lot of the students were casting glances at him, muttering to themselves. She couldn’t help but be rendered speechless by his audacity.

“It’s mundane,” Lucian assured, tapping the shield. “My shield. And per the rules, it’s equipment.”

Lorenna studied the shield. She couldn’t sense any magic coming from it, but it was almost three inches thick. It certainly didn’t seem something practical to use in battle. Shields were allowed, but… she’d never quite seen something like this. A student had essentially brought a barricade with them.

“I’ve read the rules rather carefully, Lady Lorenna,” Lucian said. “Nothing that prevents using such a shield, is there?”

Lorenna bit at her lips. She shook her head. “No. No, I suppose there isn’t… yet.”

***

Tournament matches were a lot different than the battlefield. Technically, the shield that Lucian had brought—the Great Pavise—was far beyond his STR requirement to handle. In War of Four, that meant his SPD would be reduced proportionally to how much it exceeded his STR. In the battlefield, that was a fatal flaw. In a tournament match? They started fairly close together, and there was no need to move much at all.

Lucian could tell that people were unhappy. Even Lady Lorenna didn’t look particularly thrilled. But Lucian needed a certain prize—he didn’t have time to balk at methods like these. He watched the fights curiously, judging the caliber of foe that he was up against.

“Are you really going to use that absurd thing?” Helen asked him.

“It’s legal,” Lucian said.

Helen looked over. “I know, but… ever heard of a thing called the spirit of the law?”

“Ever heard of the phrase, ‘in it to win it?’” Lucian rebutted.

Helen sighed. “Did you refuse the summons from your father?”

Lucian didn’t say anything.

“Well… I just wanted to say, I don’t think people will appreciate it if you go through with this plan of yours. People might be able to laugh it off as a joke if you don’t actually use it in the matches, but beyond that? People take this stuff seriously,” Helen warned him.

Lucian smiled. “If they’re serious, they can copy my strategy.”

Helen shook her head and sighed.

***

“Positions!” Lady Lorenna shouted.

Lucian’s foe was a student which he recognized, but didn’t know the name of. He just knew her as ‘competitor in the holy magic class.’ She was the same here as she was in-game. She walked up to take her place in small arena.

Lucian waddled his huge shield over. It was too heavy to lift without exhausting himself, so he leaned it on one corner before pivoting it over to another. It was like waddling a penguin. This was how he’d moved his fridge when he didn’t have a dolly. This shield was probably heavier than his fridge. It was a bit astounding to think that he could actually lift this once he raised his strength high enough.

“This is absurd,” his competitor said. “Lady Lorenna, is this really allowed?”

Lorenna didn’t say anything, but she didn’t call off the match. It took him a while, but he got the shield in place. Two healers approached them, and then cast the elaborate Phoenix Watch spell. Lucian was encircled by a warm light. They backed up, but Phoenix Watch required that the healers be close. They were like the referees of the match.

“…the match will begin on go,” Lorenna said.

His competitor braced, clearly intending to move quickly to get around his barrier.

“Ready, set… go,” Lorenna said.

The woman immediately tried to cast First Sanctuary, saying, “Élû—”

“Poi!” Lucian held his hand out and cast Pixie Dart. A minuscule ineffectual spell shot out and struck his combatant on the face. Her head jerked back.

That spell was fast, weak, and incredibly accurate. Tournament matches couldn’t last forever. They had a schedule, after all.