Redemption Arc

“Heavens, this downpour…” Aurelia noted, watching the streets as the gondola drifted through the canal.

Theobald had created and sustained a shield of air so that none of the rain reached them. About 30 minutes ago it had been pleasant enough to enjoy a celebration around the campfire, but the rain had started to pour down heavy enough that it was difficult to even hear or see very far. Thunder was plentiful, booming through the air loud enough to make Lucian jump. That said, time and tide waited for no man, and so Lucian returned to Verne.

They’d visited Cyril’s residence in Verne, but the servants there said he’d been staying in the Collegium of late. That was their next destination.

“Is this really necessary?” Theobald asked Lucian as he sat there in the gondola. “We’ve gotten what we wanted out of Cyril. Angling for anything more… it’s just foolish.”

Lucian looked at him. “You know, part of me is starting to think that you did this just vindicate the Inquisition.”

Theobald didn’t respond immediately, looking out to the canal. “I investigated you as part of this case. Considering how much I overlooked… things you’re definitely guilty of, frankly… I don’t think you’re in any place to lecture me. I had some ulterior motives, yes, but we both got what we wanted out of this, I’d say.”

Lucian went silent, but he couldn’t deny some frustration.

“I think the times that we’re living through are a good illustration of how important the Inquisition could be. If there’s ever to be any hope that they can be revitalized, we need some revisionism,” Theobald said. “The Inquisition used dark powers for good. I consider myself something of an Inquisitor. Maybe the world can be convinced to recreate them. That’s my aim. Doing it again. Doing it right. Belcourt was the problem from the beginning. Him, and the people that were happy to see it die. People like Cyril,” he said bitterly.

Lucian’s frustration waned somewhat now that Theobald was being more open about his intentions. Recreating the Inquisition… he certainly saw the appeal behind the idea. He better, considering the mark on his hand.

As a bit of a petty ‘screw you,’ Lucian removed his Votive Glove and displayed the Inquisitor’s Mark to Theobald. The man’s eyes widened, and he started to sputter in disbelief as the gondola arrived at the Fourth Canton. He asked a question, but Lucian merely tipped the gondolier and got out, helping Aurelia up. He put his glove back on.

In the pouring rain, Lucian, Aurelia, and Theobald started to make their way toward the chancellor’s quarters, which were closer to the Collegium than they were the Concord. They stayed closely under Theobald’s spell to stay dry. Lucian continued to ignore Theobald’s questions. As they walked, someone came to join them.

“Lucian Villamar?” the man said. “What luck, running into you here.”

Lucian eyed him. “And you’re…?”

“Oh, just a courier,” the man said as he rummaged through his bag. “I received an incredibly high priority letter not too long ago, and I was intending to take it to your quarters. This is meant to be delivered to Aurelia. The deliverer said you’d know who that was.”

Lucian took the letter, glancing at Aurelia. “Incredibly high priority?” he repeated.

“Ah… imperial, I think,” the courier said. “Now… I’ll be off!” He left the air shield.

Lucian looked at the letter with some disdain before turning and giving it to Aurelia.

“An imperial letter?” Theobald said in disbelief. “Open it. I’ll wait.”

Aurelia took the letter, then held it and asked Lucian, “You don’t want to read it first?”

“You think I want to read a love letter?” Lucian said gruffly.

Aurelia smiled. “Ah. You’re jealous. Understandable, given your competition…” She tore into the letter and unfolded it. Her eyes scanned through it as Lucian stood there grumpily. After a few moments, she laughed in disbelief. “He says that he’s arranged for me… arranged for me to enroll in the Collegium, if I so desire.” She smiled, then covered her mouth. “Heheh… what?”

Lucian didn’t quite know how to react to that. He shifted on his feet uneasily.

“Well, I’ll have to admit… that’s a much better gift than flowers.” Aurelia folded up the letter and then handed it back to Lucian. “What do you think?”

Lucian took it, not quite sure why she was giving it to him. Even still, he stuffed it into a pocket shook his head. “We’ll talk about this later. Let’s focus on the task at hand.”

“Got it,” Aurelia said.

They made their way across the dormitories of the Collegium, heading for the distant chancellor quarters. They were located on the very edge of island that was the Fourth Canton, and were considerably more luxurious than the quarters afforded to students. Lucian finally made it to the Riverran chancellor’s room, and stopped at the door.

Lucian brought his hand back and pounded on the door hard because of the rain. On the first knock the door opened, revealing a deep and penetrating darkness.

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“State your name.”

The darkness seemed to speak to Lucian, and he took a step back in alarm. He felt fear. That meant…

“That’s dark magic,” Lucian said, his breathing a little quick.

Aurelia held her hand out, and Lucian took it to unseal the Mentor’s Seal. Theobald watched their hands touch.

“Guess that answers a question I’ve had…” Theobald muttered, advancing.

Lucian quickly removed his hand, shaking his head in resigned defeat.

“Lucian’s soul was wounded by dark magic,” Aurelia said. “It triggers a primal fear.”

She watched him, saying nothing more. Her eyes had silent expectation of him. Her expectance seemed tempered with encouragement—the encouragement to face his fear.

“Right.” Theobald held his hand out, then cast a spell to illuminate the room. The darkness retreated. Only then did Lucian feel comfortable going inside. They stopped at the entrance. “Hello?” Theobald called out.

Silence. He looked around the marble halls of the chancellor quarters. There wasn’t a single soul in sight, nor any noise from one. The finest vases lay broken on the ground. There were countless paintings of chancellors strewn around the room, shattered. The painting of Metterand peered down at Lucian with his haunting clouded eyes, the light from Theobald’s spell twisting the art’s features. There was the finest velvet underfoot, collecting what few drops fell from them.

“This magic has a source,” Lucian said. “Go to where its densest… find the caster.”

Theobald nodded. They advanced around, looking around the room. It looked like a bull had rampaged through here. Glasswork, jewelry, tapestries… all broken without care. Aurelia shifted to her divine beast form, as the place was large enough for her to do so.

We’re in the heart of the Collegium, Lucian thought. Cyril wouldn’t dare try anything here, right? The moment he does, countless of the strongest people in the world would swarm into the place at the first noise. Aurelia and Theobald are both strong enough to contest him.

Eventually, they came to the study in the back of the chancellor’s quarters. The door was already open, and they proceeded in. The darkness was thick and dense here because its source sat on the chair, behind the desk. The smell of blood was heavy in the air. Had he hurt himself while raging?

“Cyril?” Lucian called out. “Cyril, is that you?” He waited a few seconds. “Just want to talk.”

“Talk,” he repeated.

Silence followed.

“I tried very hard to stick to the principles that had guided me through my life. They gave meaning to what I felt was a meaningless existence. I spent decades building up the duchy, building up my power, building what I hoped to leave behind as legacy to history.” His voice went darker as he said, “And you destroyed it all in the span of a month.”

“Maybe some self-reflection is in order,” Theobald said, and Lucian shot him a glare.

Cyril didn’t say anything for a time, then he asked, “What possible reason could you have to come here?”

Lucian stepped forward, but stayed near Aurelia. “What if… what if I told you that you could start all over again?” He held his arms out. “What if I told you that a cure for the Black Bloom will come into being?”

“…what?” Cyril said flatly.

“Survivors from the Black Bloom Initiative exist,” Lucian said. “Hidden from you, from all of us. But they’ve been working toward a cure. And I think that you might be the first recipient.”

“I see. You came here to lie to me,” Cyril said, voice flat.

“I came here…” Lucian shifted on his feet, sweating. He spoke vaguely if only to protect Miriam and Charlton in case this didn’t go as planned. “I came here because despite everything, you’re damn good at what you do, Cyril. I fought back because you put me in a corner. That said, I don’t want this be the end of you. I want you to stand and fight against the demons.”

“Against the demons,” Cyril repeated.

Lightning struck in the distance, briefly illuminating Cyril’s blackened, bloody hand on the armrest.

“We will be able to cure you, Cyril,” Lucian reiterated. “Not only that… you can help me with Lydia. She won’t rest easy, I’m sure—she’ll try to get her claws in Cate, legally or otherwise. It’ll be a hard road, but you can rebuild. Hell, I’ll help you rebuild. I don’t give a damn what people think. Fighting against the demons is more important.”

“Lydia…” Cyril chuckled. There was a noise, and a few moments later, something plopped before them. “She’s not a problem to you anymore.”

Lydia’s corpse fell into view. Her throat bore a horrible, horrible gash, and her eyes stared up lifelessly. Distant lightning illuminated her better for one moment through the windows.

“She came to me not too long ago,” Cyril said. “Hedging her bets, as always. She still thought there was something she could wring out of me. Still thought that I would tolerate her. Still thought I had something to lose. Still thought I would eat her bullshit.”

Lucian stared down in disbelief, and Theobald backed away to a combat-ready stance. Aurelia, too, shielded Lucian.

“She was under watch,” Lucian said in disbelief.

Not common people, either—monastics.

“She’s an incredibly skilled mage,” Cyril said. “Well… was. She liked to act powerless, but she was formidable enough to take all of you for a fool. I did warn you.”

Lucian swallowed. “Hell, Cyril…”

“It took the two of us some effort. Alone, I might’ve failed. But revenge on Lydia… one side has already given me that,” Cyril said, his voice breaking. “And now, both sides offer a cure for the Black Bloom.” He laughed.

Theobald cast the light he held forward, and created another. He likely wanted to see what Cyril was doing. The light drifted onward, dispelling Cyril’s dense darkness. As it neared, it illuminated Cyril… and another figure.

Belcourt Asheford stood behind Cyril as he sat, hands folded behind his back with his typical black cloth mask covering his face. There was a tension to his posture—he wasn’t entirely at ease. Cyril, meanwhile, looked manic, crazed. He looked on the verge of tears, triumph, and terror all at once.

“Aurelia,” Belcourt greeted. “I’ve long been waiting for a conversation. It’s overdue.”