Redemption Arc

Duke Clemens Metterand was possessed by a demon—a demon slain at Heavenwatch Monastery.

That news reverberated throughout the entire continent like wildfire in a dry summer. The attack on the Concord, the incident in the confluence—both of these were major events, but none had quite the impact of the reveal that one of the most prominent nobles in the Empire of Riverra and the chancellor to Verne was a puppet for demons.

***

“What did I tell you, father? What did I tell you?!” Denzel shouted at the Emperor of Riverra, Condar, in an empty conference room where the nobility would assemble to council the emperor. “Everyone knew where Metterand stood on redrafting the treaty. And you were supporting him. You were supporting someone possessed by a demon.”

The Emperor cradled the bridge of his nose. “Be quiet,” he said without vigor. “Do you realize what a disaster this is for our legitimacy?”

“You mean your legitimacy?” Denzel asked with a raised brow. “Everyone knew I opposed you. I didn’t exactly make a secret of it.”

Condar turned and walked over to a chair before the table, resting his hands on its back. “First the incidents at Golvenne, now this…” He shook his head. “The other three great powers have more than enough cause to band together against us in the Concord. His replacement… we need someone that can hold their own.”

“Perhaps this time you’ll finally put to rest that foolish notion of redrafting the treaty,” Denzel said.

The emperor looked at Denzel. “You’re becoming increasingly impertinent.” He tapped his hands on the back of the chair. “I’m going to send Duke Cyril.”

Denzel scoffed. “A dying man?”

“He volunteered,” Condar said.

“Have you seen how poor his condition is?”

“He’s still managed all his duties as my prime minister. The alternative is sending your brother Algard,” the emperor said, and Denzel’s mouth immediately sealed. “If there’s anything that Cyril is, he’s a man that knows his limits. If anyone can handle this tragedy, he can. I’ve never had a more faithful vassal.” The emperor paused, and then said with a half-smile, “You have a great deal to live up to as his heir.”

Denzel looked off to the side. “I’m well aware.”

“I’m not sure how you managed to win his favor, but I’m proud of you,” Condar said. Denzel didn’t reply, and the emperor dazed off distantly for a few moments. “Apparently Lucian Villamar, who’d gone there to receive a fiancée from the monastery, was rebuffed. Can you believe that?” The emperor laughed.

“…what did you expect after Metterand did what he did?” Denzel said stiffly.

“No matter how obstinate you can be, it could always be worse. Thank the heavens I have no son like Lucian…”

Denzel turned, his brows furrowed. “I have to return to Verne.”

“Good. Go,” he called out. “And remember to comport yourself flawlessly. You’re now the heir to a duchy as much as a prince. Your conduct can be important in defusing this situation.”

***

“Heavens…” Helen said with an open mouth, reading the newspaper Rowan held.

Rowan shook his head and scoffed. “Seems like interesting stuff happens around Lucian wherever he goes.” He set the paper down, tapping his fingers on the table. “At least no one can ignore it now. Demons are making a comeback.”

Helen sat down across from him. “Do you know what I heard this morning?” Rowan raised a brow. “I heard some students in the Collegium talking about how the problem was isolated to the empire. That they needed to be punished by a coalition of the other three great powers.”

“Ugh…” Rowan grabbed his forehead. “Why don’t things change?” He slid the paper aside. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. I’m a bit concerned about Lucian.”

“Because Denzel was announced as the heir to Villamar?” she guessed.

“No. I saw a lot of people that worked for Metterand looking out for Lucian. Y’know—instructors talking to would-be saboteurs, people generally interfering in his favor.” Rowan sighed. “I imagine that life is going to become quite difficult for him.”

Helen looked off to the side, a worried expression on her face. “They say that Duke Cyril Villamar might replace Metterand.” She clenched her hands together. “I might finally be able to get some answers to some questions I’ve had. Like why, when he heard his father had summoned him… he looked full of dread.”

“Look on the bright side. He didn’t get his fiancée. You must be relieved,” Rowan teased.

Helen looked at him. “May I strike you?”

***

The details of Lucian’s arrangement with the monastery were quietly and quickly codified in preparation for his departure. They didn’t have much to offer besides their actual support—they had a surprising amount of funds, but Lucian had Denzel for that now. Beyond those, the most they had was a bit of very ancient wine, and Lucian didn’t fancy becoming a champagne salesman. The monastics had no need for artifacts because their divine beast form couldn’t employ them. Any that they had obtained, they’d sold to fund expansion.

But what they could offer—a force that was Lucian’s to command, operating with relative freedom—was invaluable. He seemed to have their loyalty, too, after sparing Aurelia. Come morning, he had to lift all their Mentor’s Seals. It required physical contact. Thus, Lucian had done what might be likened to a celebrity meet-and-greet. He stood in one place, shaking the hands of all those that walked up to him and unleashing the Mentor’s Seal.

In truth, he felt like a stand-in for the real celebrity.

“You don’t know how much it means to me that you spared Aurelia,” a woman said. “As expected of someone with such pure holy affinity. You can recognize that her virtue outweighs whatever danger she poses on account of the curse she bears.”

That was the most common sentiment expressed. Every time he heard ‘as expected,’ he lost another brain cell. He lost so many the number went negative and looped around to the highest number possible, only to fall back to its normal amount by the end. Lucian shook a hand, heard a spiel about holy affinity or Aurelia, and had to act like he wasn’t losing his mind. It wasn’t all bad—and hell, it was an incredibly nice break from risking life and limb fighting Metterand and Aurelia. And he did make one friend, who he enjoyed a nice lunch with.

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“Nah, I didn’t doubt you for a second,” said his benefactor, Brother Crane. “I’ve got an instinct for this. People say I’m an asshole, but I just say what I think. And I think Aurelia’s always been too clean. When something looks too perfect, it’s usually a mask. Don’t buy her story, not fully. Meanwhile, you…” Crane pointed one of his big fingers at Lucian. “You look shady, no doubt, but I don’t give a damn. Instinct says you’re solid. You’d have my back. And you did.”

Lucian smoothed the tablecloth, keeping his opinions to himself. Even still, he couldn’t help but smile faintly. One sane person in the midst of all this. Crane was a pretty big guy, only a little shorter than Lucian but with a huge frame and thick arms and legs. He shaved his head bald.

“Don’t think I ever saw you while I was first here,” Lucian said, thinking back.

“I can’t stand those events. The livestock exhibits—pick a cow, any cow.” Crane shook his head. “I guard the bridge. Saw you come in. I’ve already asked the abbess if I could be part of the mission that heads to that Concord, watches your back. Glad I can finally do something, get some damn action in this place.”

“We might be seeing a lot of each other,” Lucian said, pleased.

Crane nodded, then got to work on his food—a tremendous plate of meat.

That wasn’t the only thing that needed attending. Lucian also had to deal with the widow—Cate Metterand, hopefully widowed now and forever.

He felt he had a pretty strong grasp of Lucian’s father’s character. Duke Cyril Villamar had legal guardianship over Cate as the head of House Villamar—and considering her condition, she couldn’t advocate for herself. As much as Lucian had come to like her, he had a great many problems on his plate. After the celebrity meet and greet was done, Lucian went to see Dorothea.

“I’d like to leave Cate in your care,” Lucian told the abbess.

Dorothea looked at Cate. She was trying to pull back the wood paneling on the floor, without success. “Won’t her family be worried about her?”

“Our father would probably try to marry her off again,” Lucian said. “And our mother would be too busy bathing in hot mineral water to care. I’ll catch some trouble for this, but… I don’t care. You people have treated Cate very well. I could rest easier if she stays here.”

“…I see,” Dorothea said sadly. “You’re a very considerate brother.”

Lucian shrugged. “Yeah, well…” He laid a hand on Cate’s head, and she looked up at him with a warm expression. “Just wish there was more I could do. She must’ve been through a lot, married to Metterand. She’s… younger than me, even.”

“I’ll dedicate some people to taking care of her,” Dorothea promised. “People that are very patient and accommodating. I assure you, she’ll suffer no discomfort here.”

Lucian looked out the window to gaze upon the wilderness of the monastery, not far out of sight. If he was honest, he envied Cate a little. He would love nothing more than to pass his days in this place. It’d be boring, but peaceful.

But he couldn’t.

Saving the monastery had tipped the scales a little, but they were already incredibly imbalanced. The whole continent had been ruined by the First Emperor’s return. Entire cities were razed. Verne itself became rubble. No matter what the player did, it was always a pyrrhic victory. Lucian was hoping for a brighter outcome.

“Then… I’ll look forward to working with your people,” Lucian said.

Dorothea smiled. “And one day, I’ll look forward to welcoming you as Lord of Heavenwatch. Even if you have no greed for the title, I’m intent on giving it to you. When we safely can, I promise you we will.”

Lucian didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what was at the end of all of this. A return to home? Living forevermore in this new reality?

“I just need to focus on what’s in front of me.” Lucian rose. “A lot of things are going to happen in the future, almost too fast to react to.”

***

Lucian held his hands steady to read his Evercodex as the carriage bounced down the mountain path. He’d taken the time to update his status in the little book.

HP: 37 (+15)

STR: 14

CON: 18 (+3)

DEX: 22 (+5)

SPD: 22 (+5)

MAG: 26 (+5)

Lucian considered himself a mage first, and for a mage, that was exceptionally high health. That would be useful with holy magic. It would increase his survivability a great deal, and ultimately survival was his primary goal.

“What language did you write in? I couldn’t decipher it,” Aurelia said, holding up the paper he’d ripped from his Evercodex.

Lucian glanced up at Aurelia, then snatched the paper from her hand. “Just shut up.”

Aurelia sighed, but heeded his words to stay quiet. Lucian stared at her in distrust. She had been stripped of her position of prioress. Dorothea was going to keep her under permanent house arrest, purging her mind with holy magic every night… but Lucian couldn’t trust that. He had his own plans.

“You were the one that chose to take me with you,” Aurelia pointed out. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“I’m getting a muzzle for a stupid dog,” Lucian said. “It won’t be able to bark for the demons any longer. As for why I’m going personally… if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

It wasn’t that big of a detour, fortunately, to get what he needed. Before long, he’d be in Verne once more. He couldn’t stop thinking about the butterfly effects this’d cause. The network of demons was highly decentralized, but they still had a few overseers on top—direct servants of the First Emperor. What would they assume about this? How would they respond?

He wanted to know.

***

A man with white hair wearing a cloth bandana as a mask sat with a few others. Most of them also wore things to conceal their features—some of them were quite elaborate helmets, while others were simple, unadorned masks.

“We lost someone with unparalleled access. This puts us back in ways I can’t possibly compensate for,” the white-haired one said. “We’ve lost contact with Aurelia. She may be under far more intense scrutiny from the monastery after that incident. Perhaps her cover was blown. Regardless, I don’t think we’ll be welcoming her at this table after all.”

A woman leaned in. Her voice was muffled behind her mask as she asked, “Why was Metterand going into that place at all?”

“He was accompanying his brother-in-law,” the white-haired man said. “A figure of no import.”

“Are you sure about that?” another asked. “Wasn’t he also in the Concord during the attack?”

“He achieved little of consequence there, nor in Heavenwatch. He was said to have remained in his room during the entire incident, and he departed Heavenwatch without an escort, likely expelled unceremoniously,” the white one said. “I assume that it’s merely his close relation with Metterand that led to his proximity to these events, nothing more. If it occurs again, that’ll give us cause to investigate further. Right now, we have larger concerns. Heavenwatch Monastery has requested to establish a mission in the Collegium. If their detection of Metterand was no fluke, we face an existential threat.”

“Aurelia remained covert there for her entire life,” another pointed out. “I think this was a rogue accident.”

“And if Aurelia was the traitor?” one proposed.

Silence followed.

“We need to tighten up. Focus on consolidating what we have rather than expanding into new territory,” the white-haired one said. “We need to ensure that the plans we have in place will occur without similar setbacks. Right now, the public is vaguely suspicious. By staying cautious, we can quiet those alarm bells ringing until they remember their enmities with each other.” He rose. “Dismissed.”

As the others left, the white-haired man stayed. He produced some documents and set them on the table, reviewing them. Then, he leaned his head back, reaching up with his right hand to run it through his hair. His long sleeve fell back, revealing an Inquisitor’s Mark on the back of his hand. It differed in subtle ways from a normal one, menacing with corruption that turned his veins black.