Today, in Redmane Castle, a grand banquet was to be held. The Radahn Festival — a great knot in the hearts of the Redmane warriors, had finally reached its conclusion. And so, the Redmanes prepared with utmost sincerity for the coming banquet.
This banquet was not only to commemorate the end of the festival, but also to celebrate the champion of the contest: Lucian.
But before the festivities began, someone unexpected sought him out.
Lucian looked at the man before him and was a little surprised. He did not know how this Tarnished veteran had managed to track him down.
It was Knight Bernahl.
At this moment, Bernahl wore no helm. His thick beard made him appear somewhat aged, his face weathered with years of experience.
Bernahl looked Lucian up and down before finally speaking:
"Storm King Lucian, you are strong. And more than that, you have a character most admirable. In my eyes, you are a model for all Tarnished."
Lucian, hearing such praise right at the start, was puzzled. He did not know what Bernahl was after.
"…Thank you for the compliment. You are… Bernahl, aren't you?"
Bernahl nodded without surprise at hearing his name spoken. He had never bothered to hide his identity, after all. The Beast Champion armor he wore was a clear enough sign.
"If my feeling is not mistaken" Bernahl said slowly, "you should have in your possession an invitation to Volcano Manor."
Lucian blinked. He hadn't expected that to be noticed so easily. So, the invitations to Volcano Manor must bear some special mark — some subtle means of recognition.
"Yes. A girl named Rya gave me one not long ago. And… I admit I am curious about Volcano Manor. There may be things there that interest me. When I have the time, I intend to pay it a visit."
Especially Rykard's Great Rune. That was something Lucian very much desired.
But Bernahl shook his head.
"Curious about Volcano Manor, are you? I fear you may be disappointed. Perhaps once there were heroes within those halls — but now, nothing remains. The Manor has become a nest of recusants, profaners of grace, hunters of their own kind. Do you understand what that means?"
"I advise you not to involve yourself with them. There is nothing in that place worthy of one such as you."
Lucian nodded.
"I know well what sort of place the Manor has become. I have no admiration for their ways, nor any interest in hunting down the weak. But not because they strike at their own kind. No — it is because they torment the weak, because I despise the madness in their cruelty."
"I do not divide by blood or kindred. To me there are only two groups: friends, and enemies."
"And if one is my enemy — Tarnished or not, I treat them the same."
The word 'kindred' meant little to him.
For he carried within his body the soul of a wanderer, a lonely spirit from another world. Could he truly call himself kin to the Tarnished?
Never.
What he despised in Volcano Manor, and in Mohgwyn's Dynasty, was not simply their opposition, but their indulgence in cruelty, their obsession with tormenting the weak.
Lucian would never stand upon a lofty moral pedestal, scolding them merely because they preyed upon Tarnished. If a Tarnished blocked his road, he would cut them down without hesitation.
But cruelty and torment of the powerless — that was different. That was something he loathed.
Those people were madmen, degenerates who reveled in sadism. It was that madness he rejected.
And yet, if among them there were men of honor… then Lucian would not look down upon them all.
Bernahl, for instance — a knight who still clung to dignity. Lucian did not dislike him.
Bernahl raised a brow at those words.
Though he dwelled in Volcano Manor, he himself was hardly satisfied with its present state. But he had no wish to interfere — for the Manor was already beyond saving, and he knew this well.
Still, in Lucian he saw something he had not seen for a long time: a radiant light. A Tarnished with the qualities of a king, impeccable in strength and character.
He did not wish to see Lucian tangled up in the Manor's mire. For its present master, Lady Tanith, was a woman whose tongue could beguile the weak-willed.
But after speaking with Lucian, Bernahl's concern eased. This one would not be swayed so easily.
"…Is that so? Then I wish you luck in finding what you seek there."
With that, Bernahl took his leave. He departed Redmane Castle, with no intent to join the evening's celebration. There was still business awaiting him in Caelid.
—
Night fell. The celebratory banquet began as planned.
The warriors raised their cups and drank deep. Yet compared to the clamor before the battle, now the air was tinged with sorrow.
For more than half of them had perished upon the Wailing Dunes.
Still — had not the purpose of the festival been fulfilled?
Lucian, too, allowed himself rare relaxation, taking part in the revelry.
By the time dawn neared, countless warriors had collapsed in drunken slumber upon the castle square.The few who remained awake departed quietly.
It was then Blaidd and Iji came to find Lucian, to bid him farewell.
Blaidd was the first to speak:
"Lord Lucian, I must go. I'll head to where the falling star struck the land. The seal upon the stars has been broken. Lady Ranni's fate now flows anew. I believe the road to Nokron, the Eternal City, will have revealed itself."
Iji stroked his beard. To him, searching for the place where the star fell was the wisest course. Fate unbound — surely that strange star was its guide. And so he had advised Blaidd accordingly.
Lucian looked toward Iji.
"And you, old master? Will you also go there?"
Iji waved a hand.
"Such a place is best left to warriors. An old man such as I can hardly keep up. I would only be a burden."
"I shall return to Caria Manor. If you should have need of smithing once more, you will find me at its gate."
Then he slapped his forehead, chuckling.
"Ah, forgive me. I forgot — you've never yet been to Caria Manor, have you? Should I draw you a map?"
It seemed they did not know he had already met with Ranni, forming deeper bonds.
Lucian thought for a moment before replying:
"Actually… I have been to Caria Manor. Once. Though the meeting with Lady Ranni was not without twists, I did succeed in reaching her at the Royal Moongazing Grounds. We spoke, and agreed upon deeper cooperation."
Iji and Blaidd exchanged awkward glances. They knew too well how ruined the manor had become. For outsiders to see it in that state was… embarrassing.
But so be it. There was no longer any point in hiding it.
Iji then asked, carefully, what terms of cooperation Lucian had reached with Ranni.
Lucian did not go into detail. He only shared the parts concerning them:
"The smiths of Stormveil need guidance. So, old master Iji, you might go there directly."
Iji nodded. That would not be bad — to have something useful to do again.
Lucian then turned to Blaidd.
"As for Nokron — I will go myself, and see that Ranni's desire is fulfilled. You may go on ahead. I will follow soon after."
Blaidd's heart leapt with joy. The exploration of Nokron would not be smooth. But with Lucian at his side, there was nothing to fear.
The two took their leave, each setting off on their own path.
After they had gone, Leda approached Lucian.
The more she looked at him, the more she found herself favorably inclined. During this time she had also gathered information, learning of Stormveil under his governance.
A place that sought the coexistence of different races. A place whose ideals echoed the very dream of Lord Miquella's Haligtree.
And Lucian's strength — terrifying in its display.
Leda judged that to seek cooperation with him would be a wise course indeed. And so she resolved to draw closer to him.
She came before him and gave a small bow.
"Lord Lucian, may I trouble you for a moment?"
Lucian regarded the Knight of the Haligtree with some fondness. This 'Needle Knight' seemed without guile. Polite, strong, and strangely easy to be around — difficult to dislike.
He remembered how, during the battle with Astel, she had been the last to depart, even drawing its fury onto herself for his sake.
Though of Miquella, who was whispered of in poor terms by those who knew of him, she bore herself with honor. And after all — should a knight be blamed for the sins of her lord?
Even in Volcano Manor, a Crucible Knight still served Tanith loyally.
So Lucian nodded.
"You are Leda, yes? Speak your mind."
From beneath her helm came a soft laugh.
"I thank you for remembering my name. Your strength is truly awe-inspiring. As a knight, I cannot help but admire you. I hope to know you better."
Looking at her, Lucian found a thought rising unbidden:
Admiration is the furthest distance from understanding.
"…Spare me the courtesies. Speak plainly."
At that, Leda ceased her pleasantries.
"Then, to the point. May I ask, Lord Lucian, what you think of Lord Miquella's Haligtree?"
Lucian pondered, then answered:
"The Haligtree… its vision sounds beautiful indeed. Perhaps even like a paradise. And I must admit, my governance of Stormveil has in some ways been touched by that same ideal."
Leda seemed pleased with the answer. She pressed on:
"Then — do you know of the existence of the Mohgwyn Dynasty?"
Lucian was taken aback. Was she seeking his aid to rescue Miquella?
He intended to kill Mohg regardless. But perhaps he should learn more before acting. He would not allow himself to be used as another's blade. Especially now, knowing that Miquella had moved again after the war in Aeonia.
"…I know little of the Dynasty. Why do you ask?"
He waited for her reaction.
Leda thought for a moment, then spoke gravely:
"If you know little, then I must warn you. The Mohgwyn Dynasty is a power to be wary of. Please, take care. Lest you suffer loss where you least expect it."
Lucian nodded.
"…I understand. My thanks for the warning. I shall keep watch for them."
Leda lifted her gaze to the night sky, then bowed once more.
"It is time I take my leave. Speaking with you has been a pleasure. I hope we may meet again."
Having gauged his views on both the Haligtree and the Dynasty, she was satisfied. And so she departed, vanishing into the night.
—
Then came Alexander, the great warrior jar, to bid farewell as well.
"Haha! Lucian, you were magnificent yesterday! Not only did you nearly single-handedly defeat General Radahn at the festival —but later, you even destroyed those… ah, what were they called…"
"Yes! Those two terrifying Astels! And that final blow — I cannot even imagine such power!"
He laughed, though his voice trembled.
"Yesterday I lingered upon the Wailing Dunes, searching for fallen warriors whose bodies I might use. Do you know? Half the dunes are near to becoming a sea from your battle!"
Then his laughter faded into a sigh.
"Compared to that, I… I am but a useless jar. In the fight, I did not contribute. One blow struck me down, and now… look at me. In this broken state."
…
Alexander spoke more than usual today. Perhaps the wound weighed upon him heavily. Such an injury would not heal in a day or two. Nor would the spirit recover so swiftly.
So Lucian simply listened. Let him speak his fill — perhaps it would ease his heart.
At last, Alexander realized how much he had said, and grew embarrassed. He apologized, then prepared to depart.
But Lucian caught hold of him.
"…Eh? What is it?"
"You look as though you are about to fall apart."
Lucian remembered — in the game, Alexander's wounds never truly healed. Not even after bathing in lava springs. All he gained was fire resistance.
Alexander touched his cracked shell.
"Mm. Though I am damaged, I think… I shall manage. Hahaha…"
"Are you truly planning to travel in such a state?"
Lucian rapped his knuckles against the jar's surface.
Alexander's body was marred by countless fissures. In the previous battle, even his innards had spilled.
At the gentle tap of Lucian's hand, Alexander winced in pain.
"Hss—!"
Lucian shook his head. If even such light tapping caused agony, how could he hope to fight? Even a stray goat on the roadside might shatter him at this rate.
Would Alexander become the first warrior jar in the Lands Between to be slain by a sheep?
No — that could not be allowed.
And so Lucian took him by the arm, dragging him along.
"Come. We'll find Hildegard. If anyone can mend a jar, it should be her."
For surely, one skilled in crafting, with a small jar at her side, must know something of repairing warrior jars…