The stairway beneath the monument to the dragonslayers descended downward long enough that Lucian thought they might be hitting magma soon enough. It was dimly lit by ancient magic lamps, and everyone had equipped their gear as if prepared to fight at any moment. They all stayed silent as they advanced, none of them willing to attract the attention of what might be waiting for them within. That gave Lucian ample time to reflect on his goals for this venture.

  I need to learn the draconic weapon skills, Lucian reflected. It’s essential for advancing my polearm skills. That should happen naturally. I also want to piece together Lucian’s past, he thought. I almost need to. I didn’t do anything to these people personally… but who cares? If I can make things right, I should make things right. Why? The clue’s in the name—it’s right.

  Lucian had spent so much time bucking under the unfairness of it all but he didn’t stop to consider what he should be doing. It wasn’t fair that all of these things Lucian Villamar had done were being blamed on him. That said, it also wasn’t fair that these people had to endure it. Life might not be fair, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be a fair outcome.

  He hadn’t made the mess, but until he cleaned it up, he’d just be living in the filth. No matter how unpleasant, he needed to own up to the past.

  ***

  The stairs weren’t endless. When they finally reached the bottom, Miriam was cursing relentlessly beneath her breath and vowing to kill whoever had invented stairs. Lucian offered multiple times to give her a hand, but she turned him down every time. The bottom itself…

  The stairway had built up an ominous atmosphere, but it gave way for grandeur as a massive hallway held up by towering marble pillars stretched for a long way. The blue glow of the magic lamps coupled with the pure white marble gave an atmosphere of mysticism that was difficult to describe.

  “Heavens… how much would it cost to build such a place?” Ruth Goldhain questioned quietly, walking up to one of the pillars. “And all in total secrecy? It’s almost impossible to imagine.”

  “Dragonslayers were like kings,” Prince Maximilian Vantz said. “All those of the Vantz family and its cadet branches like Vantz-Leon were descended from a family of dragonslayers. It was a period of numerous warlords vying for dominance… until the Empire of Riverra united all under one nation, using magic.”

  “Do you have any special insight into dragons, Max?” Helen asked. “If your family were dragonslayers, then…?”

  “Dragons were divine beasts,” Max said. “Most of the beasts we encounter are considered monsters. They’re impure. But dragons were divine.”

  “Divine?” Olivia repeated. “I’d never heard that. What do you mean?”

  “Their power came from the Heavens, not the Hells,” Max explained. “But the Heavens are closed to us, now… or so the stories go. Frankly, I’ve no idea how much of this is true…”

  All of them turned their heads when the sound of something metal stepping upon the floor echoed out. Walking into view on the opposite end of the hall was a titan of a man. As he came closer, more of his features became clear. He had an axe hanging from each hand, one with motifs of the sun, and the other of the moon. He was armored from head to toe in armor on the verge between that of a knight and that of a Roman centurion. As he came nearer, it was clear that the armor was in many ways misshapen, old, and damaged.

  Just like I remember him, Lucian thought. The Dragonwarden.

  “Hold on,” Rowan said, holding his arms out as everyone brandished their weapons. “Let’s not be hasty.”

  People trusted Rowan enough to heed his words, but Lucian could tell just from everyone’s expression that this man terrified them. If Lucian didn’t know who he was, he might have shared that opinion. He was on the upper end of seven feet tall, and didn’t lack in width despite that. His helmet had a majestic red crest, making him seem larger than he already was. His axes menaced with power.

  When he came to stand before them, everyone watched without a word. The helmet the Dragonwarden wore had a slight mask on it depicting an unsmiling face. All he did was look between them all.

  “Hello, sir,” Rowan said. “We, uhh…” he looked toward Lucian for advice.

  “We come in peace,” Lucian supplied, feeling a bit embarrassed as he used an alien’s catchphrase. “Just… exploring.”

  The Dragonwarden hefted his axes. Then, he raised his arms up. People flinched… but he merely put the axes on two loops in his belt. Without a word, he turned back and walked from whence he’d come. Once he was a fair distance away, he looked back, waiting and watching them.

  God, he’s so cool… Lucian thought.

  Lucian liked Rome more than he’d care to admit, but in truth, it was what he knew about the Dragonwarden from lore that inspired his affection. The gentle giant up ahead never said a word, but the player could learn a lot about who he was from the environment. Lucian seemed to have an affinity for people that stayed totally silent. First Cate, now this guy.

  “…did we actually come in peace?” Olivia asked in a whisper.

  “Look at that man and discover your answer,” Helen shot back. “I’m feeling exceptionally peaceful.”

  “Do we follow?” Denzel asked.

  Isran walked ahead, a smile on his face. “Do you really think any one of us would be satisfied turning around and walking away?”

  “I would,” Bethany said easily.

  “I think you’re outvoted,” Rowan said, rolling his shoulders. Lucian had told him what was coming, but he still looked uncertain. “Let’s not keep our host waiting.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “This is a mistake…” Bethany muttered with a tense voice.

  ***

  They followed after the Dragonwarden down the long marble hall. It wasn’t as unending as the staircase, but it was still quite long. What everyone eventually saw defied explanation. They didn’t enter some vast underground chasm—instead, they entered a green grove with bushes, trees, and grass all around, and the sky above them.

  The scene that Lucian saw was one of the most idyllic that he had yet to find. Ahead was a very small village that had been overgrown by greenery and largely abandoned. It was surrounded by a gentle river flanked by trees and bushes. Beyond the river, they were surrounded by mountains that gave a sense of security rather than claustrophobia. It was like a little pocket of serenity with a perfect climate.

  “This doesn’t make any sense.” Rowan looked up and around. “The sky, the sun… is this some kind of illusion?”

  As everyone else grappled with the impossible, Lucian watched the Dragonwarden walk ahead into the village. A great number of animals came out to greet him, and he tended to each delicately. Once the needs of all his pets were satisfied, he headed back toward the only house in the village that had smoke rising from it.

  “Maybe we should follow after the big man before we cause offense,” Isran said prudently.

  Given that guidance, all managed to bottle their awe and pursue the armored giant that had been their escort thus far. Cats watched them from on high, and dogs either barked or demanded affection from all those that passed. Most of the other animals were too timid to approach, but Lucian saw cows and squirrels and all manner of things.

  When they entered inside the house, they saw the Dragonwarden putting fresh logs in the fire. He grabbed a few carrots, lining them up on his cutting board. In less than a second, he sliced them in twenty. Him cutting vegetables sounded like a woodpecker hammering a tree. He started piling vegetables into a large cauldron.

  “Uhh… hey,” Rowan called out, walking ahead. The Dragonwarden looked at him, but didn’t look away from his task. He was preparing a soup. “What is this place?”

  The Dragonwarden lifted his head up, revealing his neck. He tapped his helmet, indicating something.

  “I think his helmet’s… fused with his face,” Ruth said, her voice a little horrified.

  The Dragonwarden nodded. He moved to the hearth, putting his soup over the flame to cook.

  “Looks like it was melted. Accident with fire?” Denzel asked.

  No, it’s supernatural, Lucian knew, but he kept quiet for now.

  The Dragonwarden pointed a finger up and waved it about. People looked confused, but some people got it. Rowan, who already knew the answer, walked outside and looked up.

  “What are you doing?” Helen asked him.

  Rowan did his best impression of the Dragonwarden, staring upward silently. A moment later, he turned his head in a certain direction. A few seconds following…

  A beast the size of a blue whale briefly rose up over the mountain. Its size wasn’t what struck fear into them, but how quickly and silently it was moving. A blue dragon, blending in with the sky almost perfectly, soared above them all. And Lucian was damn near certain it was watching, like a seagull eyeing an ice cream cone.

  Lucian loved this quest. After all that build-up, you find a secluded village, big scary mute giant, and dragons. Oh, what, you thought the puzzle was over? Figure the rest out, smart guy.

  His companions were somewhat less enthusiastic.

  “Heavens above…” Ruth said, watching the reptile in awe. “We need to leave. Now. This is beyond us…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Vlad disagreed, though even his voice was shaking. “We’ve found… we’ve found something unbelievable.”

  There were two outcomes to this quest. Either they became dragonslayers, or they became dragon champions. In the event they chose to hunt, the rewards were far better, but much more concentrated into a few people. In the event they chose to champion the dragons, the rewards were a fair bit worse, but they applied to everybody. Better yet… they didn’t have to kill that hunk, the Dragonwarden.

  ***

  After the revelation that they were surrounded by dragons, the Dragonwarden had served them all a soup of various vegetables, seasoned with salt and pepper. The only meat that the big guy ever ate was fish, Lucian knew. He loved animals far too much to ever hurt them. Fish didn’t count, Lucian guessed.

  Lucian held his steaming bowl of soup in hand. Everyone was divided up neatly into groups, discussing what comes. He saw Rowan, Miriam, Helen—easy street. He could go sit by them, keep up appearances in his nice little circle, and avoid ever confronting the specter that haunted him.

  Who did that help? No one.

  Lucian stared at the people of the Confederation of Veen, all of whom ate together. He didn’t quite know how he lapsed back into the real Lucian’s memories, only that he needed to be around someone who that memory involved. It typically involved asking himself questions. He knew the Confederation had deeper enmity with him than most others.

  Why do they hate Lucian? he thought. What exactly did he do to them?

  Nothing.

  Lucian narrowed his eyes, taking a few spoonfuls of soup. Maybe it was because he already knew the majority of what Lucian had done. He didn’t respect their culture at all. He had gone there a few years ago and left a trail of infuriated people in his wake. They had swallowed their pride because of who he was. There was one detail that Lucian didn’t know.

  Who was Sancar Alkoyen? Lucian asked himself, looking at the members of the Confederation. And did Lucian kill him?

  The magic eight ball inside his head seemed to like that question, because a familiar rush came to his mind. Like oil had been struck, memories surfaced unbidden, bringing to bear the past of Lucian Villamar.

  ***

  “I need your help, Sancar,” Lucian said.

  He observed the memory closely. Judging from the height, it seemed like this wasn’t too far back. Late teens, at the earliest. He stood behind a broad-shouldered tan man with dark hair. They peered out across a dry yet verdant landscape.

  “Too bad,” Sancar replied. “You burned this bridge, ‘my friend.’ After what you’ve pulled? If you were born in the Confederation, I would’ve already had a duel of honor with you.”

  “It isn’t about me,” Lucian said. “It’s about my sister.”

  “Let me guess—your sister has a gambling debt?” Sancar said, not budging.

  “She’s being wed to Duke Metterand,” Lucian said.

  Sancar paused, then turned around. He had a squarish face, blocky yet dependable. “What?”

  “You heard me,” Lucian said.

  “She’s…” Sancar scoffed. “She’s twelve this year.”

  “And now you see why I’m bending the knee to a royal prick like yourself,” Lucian said. “Help, Sancar. One last time, that’s it.”