Redemption Arc

“Guard-Commander Roger,” one of the knights said.

Roger looked up from his paperwork as a knight entered his office. “What is it?”

“I have someone claiming to be a servant of the Villamar family with a matching family crest requesting to see you,” his subordinate claimed.

Roger narrowed his eyes. It was quite unusual for noble houses to seek him out deliberately. He was the Guard-Commander of the City of Golvenne—a prestigious post on paper, but in reality he largely dealt with petty things alone. The Imperial Guard handled all the high-profile stuff, and the nobles generally preferred to let their own household retinue take care of any problems they might have. It often led to complication. And when nobles did come to him…

Schemes, Roger thought darkly. Someone trying to use me for underhanded purposes. All the more reason to think that if it’s the Villamar family involved.

Still, that family wasn’t one that he could easily refuse. “Send them in.”

His subordinate ducked back into the doorway, vanishing for a few moments. Moments later someone else entered. They wore a hood over their head, concealing most of their features. Another reason to believe this was conspiracy.

When the door was shut, Roger said politely, “Have a seat.”

The visitor pulled back their hood, and Roger’s alarm bell started to sound off in his head. Lord Lucian Villamar.

“Lord Lucian,” he greeted politely, rising to his feet. “I apologize. Had I known someone of your rank was coming, I would’ve—"

“It’s good you don’t know.” Lucian sat down. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re probably more used to receiving complaints about me than receiving visits from me.”

Roger said nothing, but the description was accurate.

“Still, you’re the only person I can rely on.” Lucian reached into his pocket and produced two things. One, a slip of paper. The other, the Villamar family crest—a silver butterfly on a purple field. “Someone rather important who would rather remain anonymous has asked me to deliver this information to you.”

Lucian handed over a slip of paper. Roger took it hesitantly. It was an address.

Lucian pointed at the note. “If you go to that address, you’ll find what you’ve been looking for. Traces of demons.”

Roger looked at the paper, then up at Lucian. He was certain of it now. This was some scheme. Not the ordinary kind—the kind that got him killed.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re suspicious,” Lucian said. “The simple fact of the matter is, this matter is important enough for a certain someone to send me, son of Duke Cyril Villamar, to provide legitimacy to this request.”

“I haven’t been investigating demons,” Roger lied easily. “That honor rests with my betters.”

“You’re smart to lie. And it seems I was smart to seek you out,” Lucian continued. Roger gritted his teeth uneasily. “I think you and my patron are in similar situations.”

“And what situation is that?” Roger asked, setting the paper down.

“We both know how deeply the demons have infiltrated the command structure. We both have no one to trust.” Lucian leaned in. “But I have information that you don’t. Enough to curb the most egregious offenders.”

“The demons haven’t infiltrated the empire, much less this city,” Roger continued to lie.

“Alright… fine,” Lucian said, nodding. “Let’s call the people at that address… criminals.” He set the family crest down on Roger’s desk. “I’ll let you keep that as a deposit. I promise you that this won’t cause you any trouble, but if it does, you’ll have that at hand to provide some proof.”

“Whereupon one of your people claims that I stole it,” Roger said, gesturing toward it.

Lucian leaned in. “Think about your position. The only son of a duke came here personally, family crest in tow. What are the implications? Specifically… the implications for you?”

Roger stared at Lucian. Something about the man’s sharp eyes and condescending smile sparked unease in him. But the people behind him… Metterand, Cyril…

Hate this job, Roger thought. How the hell did they find out I was looking into demons? I haven’t even told my wife.

“And there’s going to be criminals in here? For sure?” Roger waved the paper.

“Yes. Indefensible criminals,” Lucian said, rising to his feet. “There’s a reason why I came here covertly. What they’re doing can’t be misconstrued. It’s abominable. But the people behind it don’t need to know where the attack came from. I assure you, you’ll feel excellent about taking that address.”

Roger thought that the words were incredibly dubious coming from who they did, but he kept that thought to himself. Instead, he took the family crest and nodded toward Lucian.

“Demons aren’t in the city,” Roger insisted. “But if these are criminals, it’s a different story.”

“Sure.” Lucian nodded. “And if they’re a little more than criminals, eyes are going to fall upon you. That’s why you’ll go to the address on the back of the paper for your next lead.” Lucian stood, raising his hood back over his head. “See you soon.”

Roger sighed deeply. What in the world was this leading to?

***

Lucian ate an apple as he watched the guards of the city storm into a building. Immediately, fighting broke out—fighting for which the city’s men were well-prepared. Sometimes, it took seeing something firsthand to understand just how good of an opportunity it was. Coming to Golvenne was no exception. Now that Lucian had boots on the ground, he was starting to realize that his possessed body wasn’t solely unlucky.

Lucian wasn’t Rowan Sumner, a man of common birth from Verne. He was Lord Lucian Villamar, son of Duke Cyril Villamar, a name which commanded universal respect. That difference meant he could take a wholly different route in quests. He hadn’t been able to use his aristocratic privilege much in the free city, but now that he was here? Now, he could throw his weight around like nothing else. And the best part of it all…

Stolen from NovelFire, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Lucian’s hand started to throb. He looked down at the Inquisitor’s Mark. He could faintly see demonic energy coursing through the air and entering inside it. He didn’t need to kill those influenced by demons personally. So long as he was near the incident, he received the benefits. The black tattoo on the back of his hand was a crucible of activity.

Now that he actually had some demonic energy inside the mark, he could perceive its true function. While it remained quite similar to as it had been in the game, there wasn’t some interface to access it anymore. Rather, there was a swell within his body, a tide of hatred which he could harness to his own ends. Using demonic powers against demons—that was the hallmark of the Inquisitors. Most said that was why they’d been corrupted, but Rowan never exhibited any problems using it through the whole game.

I can already feel some powers I might be able to call upon, Lucian reflected, putting his gloves back on to hide the mark. Once I get more, I’ll be able to unlock the other abilities.

Guard-Commander Roger gave out a series of quests to help find the demonic influence in the city. Lucian was just using his foreknowledge and the vague mystery excuse of a ‘backer’ to use the commander as a cudgel. Ordinarily each of these were brief side-missions.

Way beyond my level. I’m foregoing the loot, but being able to empower the Inquisitor’s Mark so much so early definitely makes up for it.

On top of that, while the guards of the city did their job, Lucian could get some other errands done. In a way, he was savingtime. A good thing, considering how much time he lost being here.

I wonder… next time the tournaments come around, will they be able to place rules on the Inquisitor’s Mark? I mean, it’s part of my body…

Lucian smiled.

***

The Emperor of Riverra, Condar, stood in a grand black cloak topped with white fur on its shoulders. He looked out a bay window at the city down below. Its darkness allowed a reflection—it reflected his face, aged but firm, with red eyes and gray hair. It reflected his son, Prince Denzel, a handsomer mirror. He stood a fair distance back at the foot of some stairs leading up to Condar’s view of the city.

“I don’t want to hear another word about the subject,” the emperor declared.

Denzel tried to walk up the stairs, saying, “Father, please reconsider. Opening up the Treaty of Verne would threaten the peace held for ninety-two—”

“Reconsider?” the emperor turned. He walked down the stairs until he loomed large over his son. “Never before has there been an opportunity as fine as this. The empire is ascendant, Denzel. We’ve modernized. Our people have learned our foes’ methods of war, which beat us when last we clashed. We’ve spent decades studying their strategies in that Collegium of theirs. Even diminished as we are, we have greater manpower and legitimate claims over the whole of the continent. Each of the other powers are illegitimate rebels, and—"

“This is clearly a demonic plot!” Denzel shouted. “Demons burned the Treaty of Verne! Demons again attacked us in—”

“Demonic plot. Listen to yourself,” the emperor scorned. “Even if it were true, a good ruler can turn incidents like that into opportunity. Our alliance with the Kingdom of Vantz is ironclad, secured both by blood and by geopolitical reality. Our two nations have become deeper entwined than ever.”

“As the Confederation is deeply entwined with the Republic,” Denzel argued, stepping further up the stairs to stand level with his father. “Have you even read the newspaper lately?” He produced it from his coat, and thrust it out. “Read it. Read it!”

“Do not raise your voice to me!” The emperor backhanded Denzel. The prince staggered back, but once he had his footing didn’t retreat.

“Hit me all you want,” Denzel said, voice low. He wiped blood off his lip. “Just read it.”

The emperor looked furious, but he swiped the newspaper. He read aloud, “’Criminal gangs uprooted with the majority of their members under Influenced by demons.’” The emperor bit his lips for a few moments, and then looked up. He waved the paper. “All this tells me that they can be beaten, that my guard is doing their job.”

Denzel seized the paper back. “Kidnappers, drug dealers, and all manner of foul syndicates operating here, in the Imperial Capital, with demons on their back… and you can’t see the issue? You can’t see the writing on the wall?!”

The emperor seized his son’s collar. “Metterand will revise the Treaty of Verne. The other powers will fall in line. And so will you, if you wish to keep the title of prince.”

“And if the other powers don’t obey?” Denzel asked hatefully.

“Then we will reclaim our rightful land the way this empire was built. Iron and blood.” Condar pushed Denzel away, and the prince staggered back. He pointed. “If you bring this subject up again, I’ll see that you never again can.”

Denzel stormed out quickly, steaming.

***

Lucian sat on a bench a fair distance away from the closest magic lamp in Golvenne. It was shrouded in darkness. He held a dagger up to the light, admiring it. It looked quite dingy, frankly, with a wooden hilt and a white blade that looked like stone. It was called the Voodoo Dagger. It had a more common name in the speedrunning community—boss killer. This dagger had quite a few oversights which combined with other elements.

He noticed a figure approaching in the distance and hid the dagger away. The guard-commander sat beside him. He reached into his coat and produced Lucian’s family crest.

Lucian took the crest. “You work quickly.”

“Should we be meeting like this?” Roger asked. “You know as well as I do that countless eyes are going to be on me now.”

“It’s only been a few days. Besides, this place is uniquely suited for meetings,” Lucian said, looking around. After all, this was the place Roger himself had chosen to avoid prying eyes, and he never got caught in War of Four.

“I have to say…” Roger clasped his hands together. “I wish you never darkened my door.”

Lucian sympathized with those words. “Reality hurts, does it?”

“What hurts is knowing I just killed all my prospects at promotion.” Roger hunched over.

“You’ll be fine. You earned fame. They don’t want to attract attention by bringing harm to you. In fact, you’ll probably receive a promotion that gives you a prestigious but uninfluential job with a pension,” Lucian said, citing the incidents within the game. “Your wife should be pleased.”

Roger looked over. “I want to keep up the fight.”

“You’d just be staring at coals. You’ll have curbed their influence,” Lucian said, repeating lines Roger himself once said. “For a long while, they won’t try anything like that again.”

Roger sighed. “Demons. Demons, in Golvenne. Not only that, the documents seized… the people they implicate…”

“I need those documents,” Lucian said.

Roger turned his head. “Why?”

“In your hands, those documents are a millstone around your neck,” Lucian said bluntly. “But in the hands of my patron… people a lot more powerful than you are resisting. And they can do good with them.”

Roger deliberated. “You’re probably right. Just seeing the names on them makes my skin crawl.” He stood. “How should I deliver them to you?”

“Put them in my first dead drop,” Lucian said, rising to his feet. “You remember where that is, or did you burn the paper?”

“I burned all the papers, but I remember,” Roger confirmed.

“Good.”

He wasn’t lying to Roger. He did intend on giving these papers to his patron. The thing was, he didn’t havethat patron yet. These papers would be instrumental in securing one, he hoped. Not all of the system was corrupt. There were plenty of people in powerful positions utterly resistant to demonic influence. What Lucian needed was something to win them to his side.

Roger, a low-level guard-commander, had been able to achieve tremendous disruption in a short time. If Lucian had a genuine powerhouse on his side, the situation changed greatly. Lucian was coming to accept that he couldn’t stick to the original timeline. The world was too complex to remain totally predictable. Cyril and Metterand couldn’t be relied upon. He needed his own powerbase. Recently, he’d seen the opportunity for that.

“One more thing,” Lucian continued. “I need your help reaching somewhere.”

Roger looked suspicious. “Where?”

“The Titan’s Heart.”