Aric took Lucian inside of his room after the match and sat him down. He did not allow anyone else inside.

“Where did you get that blade?”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Does anyone else know?”

He interrogated Lucian nonstop. His questions were met with responses that did not seem to satisfy him. Lucian was honest. He said that he bought it from a shop. He did not know what it was. No one else knew.

Aric sighed and cradled his head in his arms.

“It doesn’t matter now, I guess. You have it, and now it is your responsibility,” he said.

“Do you know anything about it?” Lucian asked.

“Only what I read.” Aric let out another deep sigh. “There was a race of beings made of pure darkness that existed before man, and they fought in many civil wars. Wars with no victors. They were, according to the texts translated, immortal. From then on the translation stops, but legends say that a blacksmith was able to forge weapons that cut into their bodies and seeped away the fabrics of immortality. He forged them with more malice, and evil than the beings were capable of taking. The wielder was able to stop the thousand-year wars between the clans, but he paid a price. The blade was bound to him, and he, bound to it. If one dies, the other as well.”

“Wait, so is your … sister dead? Or the man earlier? Or–” Lucian was concerned about the potency of it. If it was enough to kill these beings, then what chance did humans have?

“Again, it is just legends, but I suspect that holy magic can heal away at it. It counteracts the powers that were used to create it, if it is true,” Aric assured, though not too sure himself.

“How do you know all this, and do the others?” Lucian wondered.

“It is ancient texts from my mother’s family. She taught me the language, taught to her by her mother. Only our family knows of it,” he answered.

“So the Eon family knows!” Lucian said.

Aric fidgeted his feet. He was deliberating on speaking, going from half words to complete silence. Finally, he laughed and spoke. “I know what people say about me. A drunkard. A failure.”

“I guess I am,” he continued, smiling but in a way that appeared to be almost sad. “The Eons are not family. They never were. I was always the bastard son to them.”

“Bastard?” Lucian pressed.

“My mother is from Hoelia,” he explained. “Not many know it, but it is a distant land far to the east. Her family were nomads who lived in peace for years. My father, the Marquess, traveled to the East for a diplomatic mission when he was younger. There, he and his entourage traveled deep, looking to hunt for exotic creatures. My mother and her family were in the same area, and you can guess what happened. He fell in love with her and took her home.”

Aric’s eyes started to tear, and he wiped them away and laughed even louder. “You know, some people deserve to die. Don’t you agree?”

Lucian nodded, still a tad confused.

“My mother didn’t want to leave. He forced her, and then used her as he wished, and had me. She died at birth in a horse stable, where she slept. He never took me in. I didn’t want him to. The maids and slaves were much better than he or his children had ever been to me. If I stayed in that family any longer, I might have killed them. Their banishing me was the best thing that could have happened. I’m free now.”

Lucian studied Aric. The man was still trembling and looked like he was still traumatized. Regret for asking washed over Lucian. Tragedy and hardship carve a man. Aric did not drink because he wanted to. It was the best way he had to cope with it.

‘Gahhh, look at me!” he yelled, standing up. “Just keep the blade close to you boy. I don’t know if the legends are true or not, but can never be too careful.”

“Aric …”

“Get up, let us get a drink or something! We ought to celebrate this, no?” Aric grabbed Lucian by the collar of his armor, and trodded outside, where Mortis and Haymond sat inside a carriage.

“You were amazing out there! I’ve never seen anything like it!” Mortis clapped his hands excitedly inside the carriage. “They say you were the 19th to reach the win!”

Aric, trying to lighten the mood after his talk with Lucian, raised an imaginary glass. “To Lucian, our champion. Let’s find a real drink and toast properly!”

The carriage ride back to the inn was filled with a mix of relief and subdued celebration. Haymond sat silently, occasionally casting a sidelong glance at Lucian. Mortis chattered nonstop about the fights, while Aric remained uncharacteristically quiet, lost in thought.

When they arrived at the inn, Aric led them to a quiet corner of the common room. He ordered drinks for the group, then leaned in close to Lucian. “Listen, don’t tell anyone what I’ve told you, ok?”

Lucian nodded, the weight of Aric’s words settling heavily on him. “I won’t.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Aric’s expression softened slightly. “We’ll figure it out together. But for now, let’s focus on celebrating your victory.”

They raised their glasses, the clink of their toast a small but significant acknowledgment of the journey they had taken so far. As they drank, the tension of the day began to ebb away, only joy remained. Lucian, though only juice, felt as if it was enough to knock him out.

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The halls were lined with paintings. Most of them were of the royal family, but there were some odd ones where valor was depicted. There were four total stairways in the estate, with doors standing a few feet next to each other. Inside each door was a marvelous suite that had everything a man could ever want from beds as soft as clouds to views outside the windows where the grass extended beyond what a man’s eyes could see.

“Champion’s Nest” was the traditional housing for everyone who qualified. It was situated on the edges of the city, where it stood alone, without any structure close to it.

One did not need to stay there, but Lucian went just to scope out his potential opponent.

He did not know when it began, but slowly, through the fighting and the thrill of it all, he had forgotten why he even joined in the first place. Maia. The daughter of Abenor. She was still the goal. He had to find her. She was the reason why Lucian was alive. If Abenor had not gone looking for her, Lucian knew he would have perished inside that slave caravan. He was a lonely man, and Lucian understood that when he was asked to be Abenor’s son, it was him trying to fill in that gap. No matter, he was Lucian’s father, not because he said he was, but because he saved Lucian.

Aric was in Lucian’s room inside the estate. He held the longblade in his hands, strolling around from end to end.

“Strange, isn’t it? I cut my fingers this morning with it, and it's almost healed.” He swung it around in a circle and pointed the blade at Lucian. “How come when you use it, heals don’t work?”

Lucian had a feeling that he knew the answer. When he was stabbed with the blade during the fight with the nosferatu, the system box popped up, saying he had fulfilled a requirement, and he hurriedly accepted. It said something about him being “worthy”, whatever that meant.

“Dunno,” Lucian replied.

Mortis was stuck back at his job at the inn, and Haymond informed them that when the night prior to the tournament came, he would visit to check everything.

Downstairs, at the vast dining hall, they ate their breakfast. It was probably the heartiest meal Lucian had eaten since he came into this world. Proper eggs, and some sort of toasted bread with pickled vegetables on top.

While eating, Aric spoke to him about the different fights that sat in the halls, also eating their first meal of the day. He pointed to a cloaked figure, sitting all the way at the end of the hall, near a stone pillar.

“See that weapon near him?” Aric said. “That’s a staff.”

“What about it?” Lucian inquired.

“You beat Naeve, but she’s a spoiled brat. She’s good, but don’t think her magic is the best,” Aric explained. “I saw you heal. That’s magic. I didn’t know you could do magic.”

“I don’t know too much about it. Hell, I can’t even control it.”

“You brat!” Aric smacked Lucian’s head. “Here I was thinking you were a normal swordsman like me, but you can do magic!”

Lucian asked him about magic, specifically healing magic, and holy magic, which he said could counteract the blade. Holy magic is only used by the high priests and priestesses. It is something that is passed on through rituals, not inherited. Ordinary healing magic was common, but healing magic like Naeve was a more advanced form. This was taught by her masters.

What does that make my healing then?

As if he read his mind, Aric answered, relaying that Lucian’s healing was something he had never seen. It was best to talk to someone that knew about magic in general to better understand it.

“Well, anyone you know or have in mind?” Lucian asked.

Aric shrugged.

“Wait, actually … Lea. She was my, errr … ex. I heard she’s doing some teaching to some wealthy family,” he said.

“Do you know who? Maybe we can try to ask Haymond to arrange a meeting or something,” Lucian implored.

“Let me think,” Aric replied, fingers on his chin, thinking. “Ah! I think so. Someone named Kyres.”

Kyres! Isn’t that the name of Adelaide’s family from the “Red Maiden?”

“What? Why do you look like that?” Aric questioned, gauging his student’s face that lit up.

“I think I can get us in,” Lucian announced, smiling.

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Lucian and Aric prepared to visit the Kyres Manor. They left the “Champion’s Nest” right after eating, and rode on horseback. It was only a thirty-minute ride there.

The Kyres Manor loomed ahead of them, an impressive structure of white stone and dark wood. The manor was surrounded by meticulously maintained gardens, with hedges cut into intricate shapes and flowers blooming in every color imaginable. A wrought-iron gate, flanked by two stern-looking guards, marked the entrance to the estate.

Lucian and Aric approached the gate. Lucian stepped forward, clearing his throat. “I was invited by Adelaide,” he said to the guards. “My name is Lucian Auric.”

The guards exchanged a glance before one of them nodded. “Wait here,” he instructed, then disappeared into the manor.

Lucian and Aric stood in the morning sun, waiting. Aric glanced around, admiring the beauty of the manor grounds. “Nice place,” he muttered. “Hope they have good drinks.”

After a few minutes, the guard returned. “You may enter,” he said, opening the gate. “Follow me.”

They were led through a grand courtyard, the path lined with statues and fountains. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, and the sound of birds singing added to the serene atmosphere. Lucian couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place amidst such luxury.

As they approached the main building, they saw Adelaide seated at a stone table in the courtyard, talking to a ginger-haired woman. Adelaide spotted them and waved them over with a warm smile.

“Lucian! I’m glad you could come,” she greeted them. “Did you miss me already?”

Lucian chuckled awkwardly.

“This is Lea,” she introduced the ginger-haired woman, who looked up and nodded politely.

Ahh yes, Lea. Lucian glanced over to Aric who tried to hide himself behind him.

“Adelaide, I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you, and Lea?” he asked.

“Anything for the hero,” she said, smiling with that foxy grin of hers.

“Careful my lady, never tell a man ‘anything’,” Aric joked.

Lea saw him, but she chose to ignore him. Lucian could see she was used to Aric’s antics.

All of them sat down, and Lucian explained that he made it to the final rounds of the ‘Tournament of Glory.’ Adelaide was taken aback, but she was delighted and promised she would go see. Lucian assured her that he would like nothing better, but he needed to learn about magic before the tournament began. He informed Lea that Aric believed that a magical affinity was present within him, and wanted to know more.

“We can check that pretty easily,” Lea said. “Follow me.”