“I should cut your throat just for suggesting that!” Arslan Alaar, the bulky spearman of the Confederation, shouted in rage. His friends held him back as Lucian stood there.

  Well… they used words instead of actions. Maybe that’s a good thing, Lucian thought.

  Lucian had spilled all. He told them how things proceeded exactly as he remembered them in that vision. Everything with Sancar, with Metterand, with the Sacral Princess… the only details he’d left out were those he that he didn’t know.

  “Then where is she? Where is your Sacral Princess?” Lucian said, holding his arms out. No one answered. “A man stays silent to protect his sister—that’s not something to be ashamed of, in my book. At the time, I thought it was Cyril’s doing. It’s only now I realize it wasn’t. Aisha found out that life was going to be made difficult for Metterand, an ally of hers in the war against humanity, and she poisoned Sancar.”

  Arslan continued to seethe, and Isran held him back. By now, the outbursts from the members of the Confederation had caused enough noise to bring the others over. Rowan was the first to walk up.

  “What is this?” Rowan demanded, stepping between them immediately with his arms held out.

  Arslan wrenched himself free of Isran’s grip. “Your ‘vice-leader’ is spouting nonsense.”

  “No,” Lucian said. “You and all of yours have treated me like a murderer. You needed to hear the truth.”

  Isran, who’d been level-headed, regarded Lucian evenly. “Why didn’t you bring this up way back then?”

  “Like I said. At the time, I thought it was Duke Cyril that killed Sancar,” Lucian said. “Just as he’s doing now with this trial, and as he’s done countless times before… he puts people in untenable situations and squeezes them until they become obedient. It was completely reasonable to think he was trying to break me again.”

  Lina Isenbike, a dark-haired Student Ambassador from the Confederation, moved out of the crowd to stand by her fellow. “Break you again? Even coerced, you did these things. So, even if you’re not a murderer, you’re still a coward who would prefer to see others suffer before yourself.”

  Lucian stared at the archer. “Do you see me cowering now?” He looked around. “Do you see me continuing to wrong others? No. What’s changed?” He held his arms out. “Cate is safe, in Heavenwatch Monastery. She’s out of Cyril’s reach. I think you saw for yourself in the confluence that I’m no coward. The only thing that’s different is that the duke has no leverage over me.”

  “You’re far too cowardly to accept a duel of honor,” Arslan said, grinding his teeth. “To prove your words before the gods.”

  “I’ll accept it,” Lucian said. “Provided you offer, Arslan.”

  “He doesn’t, because I’ll beat his face in myself if he does,” Isran said, defusing the situation before it could get out of hand. He met Lucian’s gaze. “I was under the impression Cate was in Heavenwatch to cement the alliance between them and Cyril.”

  Lucian hesitated, not wanting to reveal his involvement in the situation in Heavenwatch lest word reach the demons.

  Denzel scoffed, then saved Lucian, saying, “They wouldn’t dream of holding someone hostage when there are demons to fight. No doubt you’ve met a few of those monastics by now. They’re incorruptible.”

  People went silent as that was considered. By now, everyone had gathered.

  Lucian pointed at them. “What you saw—what all of you saw, when last you were wronged—was a man caged. A man lashing out, almost at random, in some desperate attempt to break the hold Duke Cyril had over him. A man totally and utterly bound by a callous family. Now… I’ve nothing. Denzel is to inherit the Duchy of Villamar—and he deserves it far more than I do. Duke Cyril has decided I’m no longer of any worth to him, and he’s burning me at the stake to appease all of you. With Cate safe, with Cyril trying to see me dead… I’m free.”

  “What are you seeking, precisely? Amnesty?” Rudyard Warren questioned.

  Lucian took a deep breath. “Rowan convinced you people to give me a second chance. All due respect, but…” He put his hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Forget that. Because that implies I made a mistake to begin with. I wasn’t in control of my own actions, and that’s the damn truth. You don’t execute a slave for following their master’s orders.”

  Lucian looked around, immediately aware that those words incited some anger among those present. He didn’t blame them, but that was his truth. He had done nothing to these people, personally. Even if that wasn’t true for Lucian Villamar, it was true for him. He couldn’t just invent falsehoods wholesale. It wasn’t who he was.

  So much for apologizing…

  “You take no blame? I knew it. You’re a self-obsessed, selfish prick,” Arslan said, shaking his head.

  “You’re just wrong. Lucian forfeited a blessing to me,” Olivia revealed. “That wasn’t the action of a selfish man.”

  “She’s right,” Helen supported. “And… I have good reason to believe that his father experimented on him since he was a child.”

  People reeled in surprise, but Lucian hesitated. “There’s no evidence for—"

  “No evidence? He’d never leave any behind, even if he needed to scramble your memories,” Helen said scornfully. “What about your partial arcane paralysis? What about your physical impairments?” Helen demanded. “What about your holy affinity? Higher than mine—higher than Lorenna’s?”

  People knew that Lucian’s holy affinity was unusual, but most people probably didn’t have a point of comparison. Her declaration startled some. What startled most was the declaration of his ailments.

  “That was from—” Lucian began, but he was cut off.

  “A holy affinity doesn’t stay so pure if the person commits selfish actions. As judged by the world itself, Lucian remained a selfless person throughout his whole life,” Miriam said. “He had the opportunity to be Charlton Lowenthal’s apprentice… but he gave that opportunity to me. What is that if not selfless?”

  Lucian stared at her uncertainly. Miriam knew the reason why his holy affinity was mismatched. She gave him a covert wink.

  “Lucian surrendered the title of heir to me without a word of complaint,” Denzel said, staring at Lucian. “Despite how cruelly his father stripped it from him. I believe… he’s worthy of reconsideration.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Those words were deeply rattling to the people of the Empire. Compared to the Denzel that had, not so long ago, shouted at Lucian in rage in the Concord, the switch was unbelievable. In fact…

  “What in the world are you saying, Denzel?!” Damien Caspar shouted, distancing himself from the prince. He was a short man with a wide build and ginger hair—the warrior of the Empire. He was brash, simple, and instinct-driven. He pointed at Lucian. “You know him. You know who he is, what he’s done! He can’t be forgiven!”

  “And I also met his father,” Denzel countered. “Duke Cyril was once my hero, but remains such no longer. Despite appearances, Cyril was Metterand’s avid supporter all the way to the end. That’s no coincidence. He allowed that man to treat that poor girl Cate in vicious ways, all without protest, in my presence.” He looked at Lucian. “I cannot imagine how cruel the Villamar household might have been in my absence. Helen’s words do not surprise me. Cyril is a man driven by ambition and pragmatism alone, using honor and righteousness as mere tools in his retinue.”

  “Very well. I believe you, Denzel. But I know who he is,” Damien declared, pointing at Lucian. “I know how many times I fell for his words before. I know that I’m an idiot. I want to trust you, Lucian—I do,” he said completely earnestly. “But you’re too damn good at making people… doubt, for me to even consider it. You play me like a fiddle every time I gave you another chance. And so I vowed… never again.” He shook his head. “I have to trust myself of yesteryear. I’m sorry.”

  At that, Damien turned around and started walking toward the exit. Two others joined him—Carolina Borstena and Tamara Turren, both Student Ambassadors from the Empire.

  “Where are you going?” Rowan shouted.

  “Back,” Damien returned. “What we’ve found is too big to handle alone. We have to bring more people.”

  Lucian wanted to say something, but it would expose that he knew more than he let on. He braced, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Suddenly, there was a blur across the air and something slammed down in front of Damien. It sent out a huge explosion of dirt and grass. Before the dirt could even settle, the Dragonwarden leapt through the air and landed at the site where he’d thrown his axe. He pulled it out and faced Damien and the two girls that’d followed him.

  Lucian sprinted as fast as he could, hoping he could make it before Damien did something foolish. He threw himself in front of them and held out his hand, while his other arm shielded them. The Dragonwarden stood there, still and silent after that explosive display of power. Then, he planted the tip of his axe onto the ground and drew a line on the earth.

  Rowan and the others soon joined Lucian. There was a tense standoff.

  “You alright?” Lucian asked Damien.

  “Yeah,” Damien confirmed with a nod, scrambling up and ensuring Carolina and Tamara were unharmed before backing away.

  Rowan walked up, eyeing the line drawn and then the Dragonwarden. “What is this?” he asked.

  The Dragonwarden drew the line again, deeper and thicker.

  Rowan studied the line. “Do you mean… we can’t leave?”

  He nodded.

  “Great job, Lucian,” he heard Ruth mutter.

  “Why not?” Rowan asked, though Lucian had already told him the answer.

  The Dragonwarden pointed to the sky.

  “The dragons,” Rowan said, and he nodded again. “You’re worried we’ll spread knowledge of their existence.” Another nod.

  “Meaning… we’ll have to get through you if we want to leave,” Denzel said.

  Lucian reached into his satchel. He didn’t want to use it, but he’d brought the Voodoo Dagger. Coupled with the Blessing of the Soothsayer, it’d be enough to incapacitate this big guy long enough for a retreat.

  The Dragonwarden nodded… slowly, deliberately.

  “Is there another way you’d let us leave?” Lucian asked, before things spiraled. “Something a little less… murderous? A happy outcome for all parties?”

  He paused for a moment, then confirmed.

  “Well… should’ve said so from the start,” Rowan said with a smile. “Could you show us?”

  Finally… the Dragonwarden put away his axe, and people calmed slightly. He pointed, encouraging them to move. They didn’t need much more than encouragement.

  ***

  Now that Lucian had—albeit not in the way he intended—shepherded the Student Ambassadors toward the direction he wanted them to take in the quest, he followed along absent-mindedly, reflecting on what’d happen.

  I think I managed to plant a healthy seed of doubt. Only… Miriam and Helen… they said some things that weren’t true. He didn’t know what to think about that. He thought the way that he got out of this was total honesty, but maybe that wasn’t the case.

  As he ruminated on his next course of action, he felt someone at his side.

  “How confident are you that Aisha killed Sancar?” Isran asked, foregoing greetings.

  “Uhh… highly confident, I guess,” Lucian said, looking at the stylishly-dressed Isran. His handsome green eyes didn’t bear any trace of resentment, unlike all the others.

  “Quantify it,” Isran urged.

  Lucian blinked uncertainly. “Mmm… 95% chance it’s her, 2.5% it’s Cyril, 2.5% it’s Metterand.”

  “95%, huh?” Isran stretched as he walked. “Got a proposition for you, then.”

  “Okay…” Lucian said, wondering where this was going.

  When Isran had propositions, they were usually clever. He was definitely Lucian’s favorite faction leader in the Student Ambassadors. Easy-going, humorous, all a mask for his deep ambitions.

  “Right now, the millstone around your neck in the trial is the murder charge,” Isran said. “That’s what everyone is focusing on, in the news and otherwise. Lecherous heir takes out promising talent, Sancar Alkoyen—that’s the whole story, more or less, in my country.”

  “I know. I’ve read them all,” Lucian said bitterly.

  “Good. Then I don’t need to explain to you the benefits of this. If and when we get out of this place, with the dragons and the giant maniac… take a little trip with me,” Isran said. “Tell your story. Meet some of my friends. And if they like what you say, it might be that your murder charge gets dropped right at the pivotal time in your trial. Might be we settle this internally.”

  Lucian looked at Isran in disbelief. “You serious?”

  “Seldomly. In this case, yes,” Isran said. “Because if you’re serious… there’s rot in my country. I don’t like rot. Foul on the nose, the ear… just about every orifice you can imagine.” He looked at Lucian with a faint smile playing about his lips. “What do you say?”

  Lucian looked around in disbelief. “I’d say it sounds far too good to be true. But then again, if I’m asking you people to make a leap of faith, I might as well do the same. If Theobald agrees, why not? Shall we shake on it?”

  Isran eyed Lucian’s hand. “Don’t think either of us wants to get dirty.” He patted Lucian’s shoulder. “When you’re clean, we’ll shake hands.”

  At that, Isran fell back, leaving Lucian to walk alone again.

  I wanted to go to the Confederation, Lucian reflected. After I learn the draconic weapon skills here, there’s no better place for me to go. Just didn’t expect it to happen so soon…

  The Dragonwarden led them to a building that had been carved into the mountains and stopped. There were two grand stone gates blocking passage. He walked up and planted his hands upon them, and some strange manner of power started to flow across their surface, lighting up an image of a dragon. The gates parted, and he pushed stone blocks that must have weighed a ton aside like they were cardboard. Heat drifted out.

  The Dragonwarden paused, looking back. They all looked between each other. Rowan took the first step forward, probably to inspire the others. Lucian followed.

  Soon enough, their whole group entered the last bastion of the Cult of the Dragon.