Lucian studied Rya's youthful face. Her expression made it clear she was anxious, though she still did her best to maintain proper manners.
If he refused her too bluntly, would her eyes brim with tears like tiny pearls? Of course, Lucian wasn't the type to take pleasure in that.
"You seem rather troubled. Go on then, tell me, what's the matter?"
The moment she realized he was willing to listen, joy lit up Rya's features.
"Thank goodness… truly, I'm most grateful!"
"Where should I begin…? Ah, yes, I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Rya. My mistress sent me off on an erran—ah-choo!"
She sneezed halfway through her words.
Her face instantly flushed red. She rubbed the tips of her shoes together in embarrassment—it was terribly improper, terribly unseemly. She fumbled for a handkerchief, dabbed at her nose, and bowed her head repeatedly.
"M-my apologies. It's rather chilly here, and I haven't quite grown used to it yet…"
Liurnia was a land of chill, misty lakes. Compared to the searing warmth of Volcano Manor where she had lived, the difference was night and day.
Lucian glanced down at her robe. The hem and her shoes were damp, soaked through from trudging the lakeshores. Even now, though she rested in a pavilion, the cloth hadn't dried completely.
"Hold on a moment."
He turned to Torrent's pack and rummaged inside. Soon, he produced a fist-sized stone. Channeling a touch of magic into it, the stone began to radiate gentle warmth. He handed it to her.
"If the cold bites, use this. When traveling alone, you must take greater care of yourself."
Rya hesitated, reluctant to accept yet another kindness when she was already seeking his aid. Her lessons in etiquette told her she ought not. But the warmth of the stone in her hands soothed her, a comfort against the icy air she so disliked.
If she were in her true serpent form, the water would slide off her scales easily enough. But as a recruiter for her mother's cause, she could not risk revealing such a body. Mortals recoiled at the sight.
Still, she would endure the discomfort. For her mother's expectations, she would bear it.
"Thank you. You are… very kind," she said softly. "Please allow me to continue. What I must ask of you is of the utmost importance. I beg your aid."
Liurnia was sparse with Tarnished compared to Limgrave. If she let this chance slip, who knew how long she might have to wait?
She gathered her courage and explained:
"After arriving here, I met another Tarnished, much like yourself. At first he welcomed me warmly. But in the end, he tricked me—That thug made off with a precious necklace and cast me out."
"That necklace… it is of great importance to me. I must have it back, no matter what. Please, I beg you."
Then, with a trace of hesitation, she added:
"But… it may mean fighting one of your own. If you've any qualms, if you do not wish to raise your blade against a fellow Tarnished, then please, don't force yourself. I… I will think of another way."
Lucian nodded without hesitation. "No problem. Leave it to me."
In truth, he doubted the matter would come to a fight. And from her words and manner, he felt no hint of deceit.
Rya was indeed Volcano Manor's recruiter, tasked with seeking Tarnished willing to turn their blades upon their kin. But she had no reason to risk such a treasured keepsake merely to bait them.
He recalled the man she spoke of—the rogue known among Tarnished simply as "Prawn". A scoundrel who mocked those he swindled, saying only fools could be deceived.
At Lucian's agreement, Rya's face lit up with a smile. She bowed deeply.
"Thank you—truly! Ah, forgive me, I've yet again forgotten my manners. May I ask the name of my savior?"
"Lucian," he answered with a wave of his hand. "And this rogue of yours—where can he be found? Do you have a map?"
Rya mouthed his name under her breath, as if it rang familiar somehow. But she pushed the thought aside. What mattered most was recovering her mother's necklace.
She produced a detailed map of Liurnia, then pointed to a spot near an abandoned house. Rising, she gestured in that direction.
"He should be resting there. Please, I leave it to you."
Lucian set off toward the place she indicated. Without a site of grace nearby, he couldn't rely on Melina to mark the map. So he committed it to memory instead.
Once he had gone far enough that no one else was near, Melina's voice rose at his side.
"That girl… she isn't what she appears. It feels like a disguise—yet oddly, not a falsehood either. Strange… Still, she does not strike me as wicked."
Lucian was impressed by her uncanny sense. Was her perception simply that sharp? Or did she have some gift in sensing hidden natures?
Rya could shift between human and serpent forms—both true, neither false. Likely Melina had glimpsed the truth of her dual nature. But since Rya herself was guileless at heart, Melina felt no danger from her.
"Everyone has their secrets," Lucian murmured. "Any child who dares the Lands Between alone must have some strength within."
He spoke no more, for a sudden jet of water came hurtling at him. Lucian raised a storm to scatter it, then turned toward the source.
From the depths of the nearby lakebed, a Giant Crayfish heaved itself up, claws snapping. Others soon emerged around it, their shells gleaming wet under the sun.
Crayfish—the so-called "Lords of Shrimp," nearly as troublesome as Rune Bears. Their favorite pastime; spitting water jets to knock riders from their mounts with more than a 100% accuracy. Countless Tarnished had met their end this way.
"Well, it's been a while since I dealt with you pests," Lucian muttered, drawing his storm-charged Swordspear. Lightning flickered along the edge.
As he prepared to strike, however, a swirl of gray smoke billowed nearby. From within it stumbled a figure—filthy, bald pate dulled with dust, a miner's pick in his hands.
Patches.
"Ha! I knew it—the great Patches cannot be caged!" He shouted gleefully, savoring the open air. Then his eyes fixed on the looming Crayfish.
"Wh—what!? A shrimp!?"
He fumbled for weapons that weren't there. His spear and shield had long been confiscated—only the miner's pick remained.
"Ah, bloody hell! Why does this always happen to me!?"
He backed away frantically. But the Crayfish advanced.
Torrent surged forward, leaping clean over Patches. In a flash of steel, Lucian split the Crayfish in two.
Relief washed over Patches. "Hahaha! Seems fate has spared me yet again—"
Then he saw who his savior was. His grin froze.
Lucian.
Of all the people he might stumble across in Liurnia, it had to be him.
"You shouldn't die just yet," Lucian said dryly. "After all, you still owe several years of hard labor."
More Crayfish burst from the water, snapping their claws. Lucian turned his storm-spear upon them, scattering spray with every blow. Within moments, the waters grew still again, the carcasses sinking beneath.
As he lowered his weapon, Patches fell to his knees, hands outstretched.
"Wait! No, no—let's talk this through! Don't kill me!"
Lucian walked up, resting his weapon by his side. "I never said I would. You're jumping at shadows again."
"I want to know how you suddenly appeared here."
Realizing he wasn't about to be executed, Patches scrambled upright, brushing himself off as if his panicked kneeling had never happened.
"Well… that's a long story."
And so, he told it.
Day after day in the tunnels, mining under Lucian's punishment. Each strike of the pick against stone yielded shards of smithing stones. He piled them in his basket. But among them, he had secretly gathered rare components.
He'd been planning his escape.
Crafting a teleportation trap was one of his specialties—though it required uncommon materials. Luckily, the mines had provided.
"Hahaha! Did you think bars could hold me? The great Patches was born to soar—every feather of my wings shines with the light of freedom! Freedom cannot be slain!"
Choosing Liurnia as his destination had seemed clever. Lucian had been headed east to Caelid; so Patches picked the opposite direction. The misty lakes and dense woods would swallow his trail.
As for his lackeys—ah, well, life finds a way. They'd fare fine as miners. Better than following him, truth be told.
So, with a smirk and a muttered farewell, he'd activated the trap. And by sheer chance, it had spat him out here. Straight into Lucian's path.
"...And that's how it happened," he finished, whistling as though nothing were amiss.
Lucian regarded him in silence. The absurdity of it all was almost enough to make him laugh. Patches truly had the worst luck. Yet in a way, that very misfortune had saved him from the Crayfish.
Still… what to do with him? He couldn't simply send him back—the journey would waste too much time. Nor could he allow Patches to wander free. His punishment wasn't complete.
"Perhaps," Lucian mused, "he should follow me for now. Easier to keep an eye on him that way."
But there was a problem. Patches had no steed. And on foot, he would be dreadfully slow…