Redemption Arc

Arslan Alaar, Student Ambassador of the Confederation, faced Lucian Villamar with his spear at the ready in the semifinals of the polearm tournament for this month. His opponent stood in training gear, long gray hair untied, pike held elegantly. This man had come a long way from the so-called Javelin Jester at the beginning of schooling. Still, this wasn’t someone that Arslan could afford to lose to in this tournament match. Phoenix’s Watch swirled around them both.

“Begin,” the instructor said.

Arslan thought he advanced quickly, but his speed paled in comparison to his opponent’s. Lucian lunged with intense ferocity, taking full advantage of the range of his weapon. Arslan barely brought his weapon to bear to redirect the blow, but he could feel its power reverberate through his body.

After that deadly opening, they began an evenly-matched exchange. Lucian was an all-around fighter, relying none too heavily on his strength, speed, or defense. Arslan felt overwhelmed by the pressure boring down on him, but he kept his cool. His spear snaked past, stabbing Arslan’s foot—Arslan’s spear caught his hand, cutting his flesh and weakening his grip.

I’m even with him, Arslan realized. Evenly matched with a man I looked upon with derision at the beginning of our instruction.

Their contest slowly became one of endurance, it seemed, neither able to fully overcome the other. Arslan had a great deal of confidence in his ability to endure, and he thought that this style of contest favored him.

As it turned out, he was the fool.

When Arslan grazed Lucian’s shoulder with his spear, he felt the air shift. Lucian brought back his spear in a familiar stance, power practically radiating out from him. He had seen this ability before… seen it, and feared it.

Sétanta, a skill that returned damage received since its activation.

Arslan blocked, but it was futile. The spear flew from his grasp, and Lucian’s spear carried onward to slice Arslan in the arm, proceeding to his chest. The pain was unbearable only for a moment before Phoenix’s Watch activated and forcibly separated the two of them. The victor couldn’t be more obvious.

The watching crowd—which, only last tournament, had sneered at Lucian’s petty tricks and called him a coward—erupted into cheers at his victory. While the rehabilitation of his public image wasn’t an entirely complete thing, there were a great many who had sympathy for Lucian and even a few who found his story inspirational. Doubly so because of a second figure that’d joined the story, no doubt.

Aurelia walked out of the crowd, handing Lucian a neatly-folded wet towel. Lucian waved it away and healed himself, and the watching crowd gossiped. Arslan was focused elsewhere.

How did Lucian learn Sétanta? Arslan reflected in alarm. That skill’s been passed down from Martial Prince to Martial Prince for ages. Either he showed the Martial Prince a new skill, or…

Arslan’s opinion of Lucian shifted wildly in that moment. Of course, if Arslan stopped to think, he might recall that he’d learned skills from the dragons the same as Lucian. Perhaps he didn’t consider it because he vowed to keep the existence of the dragons secret.

Lucian walked up to Arslan. “Good match. Are you going to the meeting after this?” He held out his hand to shake.

Arslan would’ve spit on that hand months ago. Now, though, he took Lucian’s hand. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

***

Lucian walked through the streets of Verne, hands in his pockets.

A great deal had changed in the weeks following Cyril’s defection to the demon’s side. Chief among them was Lucian’s reputation. Gone were the days where he had to walk in worry that he’d be accosted and insulted. Some people still thought poorly of him, but they were less emboldened by virtue of the fact they were minority, at least in Verne.

The demons had been utterly silent. That uneased Lucian. He didn’t think that they had given up in their intentions to invade, But they definitely made a dire change in strategy. Even still, the period of peace gave them valuable time to prepare. And now, one such major preparation was about to bear fruit.

There was one small problem.

Miriam had kept good on her vow to keep an eye on Aurelia. Mostly, that involved being near Lucian more, or observing her in the Collegium. In response, Aurelia had become extremely petty. That manifested most obviously whenever they walked anywhere. This was one small manifestation of what had become a constant fact—a heated dispute between Aurelia and Miriam, in which both concocted petty ways to disrupt the other.

“Can I mediate a truce or something before we go on this trip?” Lucian asked.

“A truce? I don’t follow,” Aurelia said shamelessly. “Whatever do you mean?”

“She’s right. What are you talking about?” Miriam agreed.

The worst part was that that both of them acted like the dispute didn’t even exist. It left him at a loss as to how he should proceed.

This is the person I’m vouching for? Lucian asked as Aurelia tried to step on the back of Miriam’s shoe. Really? The person bullying a one-legged woman? She never really takes it that far, just does petty, inconsequential nonsense… but still. At least today wasn’t too disruptive… Lucian thought optimistically.

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They finally arrived at the crossing pub. Once inside, all of the other former Student Ambassadors were waiting. Rowan turned.

“Hey!” Rowan called out, walking up. “If it isn’t the Triad. Stylishly late, as ever. You’ve missed a lot of chatter.”

Outwardly, everyone thought they were good friends. Miriam, like Lucian, had resigned herself to her fate. Miriam made up for it by being mean to Aurelia in private. She’d taken up Lucian’s old role. He somewhat hoped the end result was the same, too, where she realized that Aurelia wasn’t deserving of such intense skepticism.

“Saw you won the polearm, holy, and fire magic tournaments,” Rowan continued.

“Yep,” Lucian agreed. “I got them to change the way they did prizes, too. Instead of having to throw matches to get the prize I want, I get to choose the prize when I win.”

“Don’t get cocky. It was close,” Carolina, the empire mage he’d fought in the finalist in the fire tournament, spoke up. “I nearly had you.”

Lucian smiled without responding to her words. The past while, he’d done necessary but time-consuming work: learning skills and spells. With the Formless Essence, he had many more options. More options meant that he needed to spend more time expanding his arsenal. More time expanding his arsenal meant slower growth.

It’d even out in the end, though. Lucian now had a formidable repertoire of spells at his disposal.

“Ruth,” Lucian called out. “Were you able to get that ship for us?”

Ruth Goldhain nodded. “I was. We’ll have passage in four days, and we’ll have a ship to take us back to Verne before the Treaty of Verne is signed once more.”

“I’ve never been to New Riverra,” Aurelia said. “People tell me it’s like another world compared to the continent.”

“They’re not wrong,” Ruth said. “But I’m sure you’ll do fine. But… do we have to travel through elven territory?” she asked Aurelia.

“That’s the route the True Divine Beast provided,” Aurelia said. “I’ve learned not to question him.”

And by that, she was talking about Lucian. There were blessings on their route.

There was another reason they needed to go into elven territory, of course. Miriam and Charlton had made great progress on their research into the Black Bloom. Now, they needed to visit with the elves who actually had the disease for sample-gathering and rudimentary testing. From all Lucian heard, this was promising.

“This is going to be our first foray into the Hells, people,” Rowan said, speaking to everyone. “You’ve all been given ample time to prepare the things that you need, but if you haven’t… prepare now. This could well be a matter of life and death. Now… I don’t think we really have anything else we needed to cover,” he said, looking to Lucian.

Lucian shook his head.

Soon, they’d be doing two things: going deep into elven territory in New Riverra—itself a risky prospect—and secondly, going into the Hells. They were going to find the Golemancer. A somewhat secret NPC in the Hells, he was an ancient golem crafter utterly in love with the craft of creating golems. When demons commandeered his work to visit harm upon people, he was heartbroken. Ultimately, he went to the Hells and became a demon, mastering demonic energy so that he could continue his passion.

Neither fully on the side of demons or humans, the Golemancer was a volatile figure… but he was needed to unlock the potential of Belcourt’s arm, and to establish a forward base in the Hells. There were easier paths to reach him, but Lucian had a buffet of blessings to get after so long stagnating.

But first, there were some things to take care of in Verne. Lucian hadn’t given up on looking into this Heavenly Body that Lydia had mentioned, which had been what she provided Lucian’s talent and Cate’s intelligence to.

Lucian would find out if he had a lead.

***

This wasn’t a game anymore. In many ways, that was alarming. Previously static antagonists were reacting and adapting to the things that Lucian did to change the timeline. In countless other ways, it provided immense opportunity. The Formless Essence was one such opportunity that he’d taken. And now, this would be another.

Lucian opened a door to a private room in a restaurant to find someone already waiting for him.

“Teddy,” Lucian greeted.

Theobald Brumaire turned to him. An exceptionally tall man, his legs pushed up against the table of the booth he sat at. His green eyes stared at Lucian in slight pain.

“Did you have to choose this place?” Theobald asked.

“Sorry.” Lucian entered and shut the door. He sat, glad he wasn’t Theobald’s size. He looked at the man. “So?”

“First, Cate,” Theobald said. “We’ve made some excellent progress. That said, we’re still looking at a very long path to success here. It could be months before the Metterand heirs even see the Concord. And the facts on the ground support them—they are, after all, presently ruling the Duchy of Metterand.”

Lucian nodded. “The dream is for a settlement, right?”

Theobald returned his nod. “Yep. We just have to make it scary enough for them to come to the table.”

“And the other thing?” Lucian asked.

“The High Priest of Vantz declined your visit,” Theobald said.

Lucian sighed in disappointment. He’d been scrambling to study the Heavenly Body that Lydia had mentioned before her murder. In War of Four, every lead into the Heavenly Body inevitably led to the High Priest of Vantz. He’d been hoping that as Lucian Villamar, with Theobald Brumaire making the request, he might actually be able to arrange an audience.

“Did you use your family’s name?” Lucian asked.

“No, I told them Teddy wanted an audience,” Theobald said with bitter sarcasm. “Yes, I used our name. Didn’t matter. Not even the king can see the High Priest whenever he wants. The Brumaire family is no different.”

Lucian leaned in. “Did you mention revitalizing the Inquisition?”

“They didn’t even flinch.”

Lucian collapsed back into the booth in disappointment. This was the same barrier that the player always met with whenever trying to speak to the High Priest. He was hoping Theobald and Lucian’s own name might turn that around.

Lucian leaned back in. “Any way you could put me in priest’s robe and smuggle me in? I mean, you got into the Lowenthal mansion dressed like an engineer.”

Theobald looked concerned. “It’s probably one of the best guarded places in the kingdom. I certainly could try, but I definitely wouldn’t. Nobility won’t protect you there.”

At that, Lucian sighed and leaned back. “Thought so. Well… shall we eat?”

If he couldn’t get in via diplomacy, perhaps he needed to take a more underhanded route.