The skin of the eye was much more delicate than the skin on the rest of someone’s body. The only reason why Lucian had chosen that as his target to it was because he wasn’t quite sure he’d even be able to draw blood otherwise. It was a bold gamble, but Lucian felt he knew Brutus well enough to say it was warranted.

  Of course, Lucian was far worse injured.

  God, I want to cry… he thought as he stared at his wrecked knee.

  Without the blessing essentially templating him into those actions, there was no way he’d have been able to do what he did. He crouched and healed himself as the chaos unfolded around him, Aurelia shielding him stalwartly. Those around them were shocked in equal measure by Aurelia’s transformation and Lucian’s survival. He had taken a hit from the Martial Prince head on, and then delivered one in turn. That was reason to be shocked.

  “Get away from me! I’m fine,” Brutus shouted, not visible beyond the cloud of dust his attacked had spawned up. “Get back! Don’t you dare heal me, Conrad, or I’ll eat your fingers again.”

  As the tension grew thicker and thicker, Lucian saw Brutus sitting on the ground in the middle of a collapsed tent. He appeared to have been cast off his feet and sent backward hard enough to tumble into it. He covered the eye that Lucian had hit with his hand, but beyond that didn’t seem to be moving to take any action. Blood dripped down the side of his face steadily.

  “Do you believe me now?” Lucian called out.

  Some people jeered upon hearing Lucian’s question, clearly taking the side of their commander. Aurelia was an intimidating enough presence to keep all from darting in and trying to finish the job. He wasn’t pleased that she had to transform, but felt the circumstances had called for it. She glanced down at him occasionally, but beyond that merely watched any who came close.

  Brutus slammed his spear upon the ground to quiet everyone, and then rose to his feet. He looked up at the lingering Torchlight spell illuminating the area, then gradually lowered his hand away from the wounded eye. It didn’t look pretty.

  Brutus sighed for a long time. “Shameful.” He hefted his spear as he stared up at the sky, lost in contemplation. “I lost my eye today.” At once, the entire army’s attention diverted from Lucian toward their commander. Their voices became unilaterally pleading while he waved them away dismissively. “I was arrogant!” Brutus shouted. “I attacked a boy barely embarking on the path of the spear, and he proved with his blood and mine I was the fool. One needs to face consequences for their mistake. My eye is lost.”

  As the rest of them moved to insist their commander change his mind, Lucian sighed in relief and some tension drained from his body. Brutus did this kind of thing a lot. He had once lost his hand in a duel, and though there were healers on standby ready to reattach it, very nearly refused them. He seemed to like the idea of having some sort of debilitating scar. Why?

  Brutus was arrogant, yes, but he was a romantic at heart. He could be surprisingly big-hearted, especially for people that impressed him. He liked myths, epic tales, heroes… and particularly enjoyed the idea of being one.

  “That man…” Brutus hefted his spear, pointing it at Lucian. “…is our guest of honor. We’re going to hold the grandest feast we’ve ever held!” he finished, then held up his spear to cheer.

  Everyone else was decidedly less enthusiastic.

  ***

  Lucian sat beside Brutus at a table as he tried to pour juice into a cup. He poured a little outside of the bounds, grimacing.

  “This’ll take some getting used to,” Brutus said. “It’s difficult to perceive how far things are from me with one eye alone. But don’t mistake that for a complaint. This is the price I need to pay for disgracing myself so.” He picked up the cup, and put it before Lucian. “Enjoy. Juice from my family’s citrus orchard. I’d prefer you enjoy some of our wine, but…”

  “I’d prefer this,” Lucian said, taking the juice.

  “A toast!” Brutus declared, grabbing his glass. “To Lucian Villamar and his beauty in black!”

  As they toasted, Lucian shared a glance with Aurelia, who sat just beside him. She had been killing him with sarcasm. He didn’t feel he could give her too much grief for that considering she had stuck by his side. But then, they’d threatened her life, too.

  “We’ll depart to Arshade in the morning,” Brutus said. “I’ll personally see to it that Aisha receives the strictest investigation possible. Indeed, I’ll involve my people. Everything will be done precisely as it should be.”

  Lucian took a drink and set his cup down. He began, “About what happened here…”

  “I’ve shamed myself,” Brutus admitted easily. “You came to me openly and honestly despite the enmity between us, hoping to have a discussion as fellows on the path. As your senior, I should have been more accommodating. Instead, I attempted to kill you.”

  “And me,” Aurelia chimed in.

  “And you,” Brutus didn’t deny. “I’m willing to offer what I need to make this right—my head, if need be.”

  “My Prince!” the vice-commander, a woman, slammed her hands on the table and stood. She looked rather like one of the monastics of Heavenwatch, with white hair and clear eyes, though she wasn’t. “Think about what you’re saying.”

  “Hazel, you must have seen that exchange,” Brutus said. “That impeccable judgment, that lack of hesitation, that fearsome counterattack, and that calm in the face of my irrationality. He may have the potential to exceed my skill by a tremendous margin, and I nearly put an end to that potential. Truly, I’ve embarrassed myself in the eyes of gods and men.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Lucian stared at Brutus. Things had turned around rather quickly. He’d done all of that because he thought it might, but…

  With a little push, I can get all of what I need and more, he thought, perhaps a little greedily. Brutus will love this part.

  “The damage to myself is one thing,” Lucian said. “You were justified in your anger toward me. Sancar was a good man, and I wish he were still with us. But to threaten Aurelia’s life… is difficult for me to forgive. She was an innocent amidst us, and you laid claim to her life.”

  Hazel looked ever more panicked, but Brutus raised his arms up to the table and placed them down. “You speak truly. I… have erred beyond compare.” He fixed his eyes on Aurelia. “It seems I owe you a debt, young lady, just as with Lucian. Is there anything you would ask of me?”

  “Consider Lucian the owner of that debt, then. He may make a request on my behalf.” Aurelia responded so quickly he didn’t even have time to fear. Lucian looked at her oddly, but she merely drank her wine without glancing his way.

  “As expected of one with such high holy affinity,” Brutus said, and the pair of them shared a knowing glance of contempt for those words. “But… may I ask how it is that a monastic of Heavenwatch came to travel in your company, Lucian?”

  “Officially, I was rebuffed from Heavenwatch Monastery,” Lucian said. “In actuality… we’re in an alliance. The two of us fought Metterand together. And that’s what I wish to talk to you about. Her presence here must remain secret, elsewise the demons may turn toward me.”

  “I heard you went to retrieve a fiancée… then, this is a secret marriage alliance?” Brutus said. Lucian opened his mouth to correct the record, but Brutus quickly said, “Say no more. Those serving underneath me are absolutely loyal. I can ensure that no word of her presence will reach anyone.”

  Lucian glanced over at Aurelia. She was struggling not to spit out her wine from laughter. He looked back at Brutus, annoyed. Maybe it was better than Brutus thought that so that Lucian had more leverage.

  Lucian continued in slight annoyance, “That’s reassuring… but I imagine that many questions are going to be raised when people see that your eye is blind.”

  “I tripped and fell on a spear,” Brutus insisted.

  “No.” Hazel perked up. “Everyone will be talking about this, my prince. That story is unbelievable. They’ll begin to speculate. They’ll begin to interrogate. Who can say that one of the men won’t spill the news accidentally?”

  Lucian nodded. “She’s right. It’s difficult to explain, Brutus. Rather than punish you… I’d prefer you help me instead.”

  Brutus tapped the table silently. Everyone awaited his response eagerly, Lucian included.

  “What would you prefer?” Brutus asked.

  “Let me heal your eye. And then, rather than an exchange of skills… would you take me as your disciple?” Lucian asked.

  Everyone stopped eating and drinking to look at the conversation in that moment. The request that he was making was utterly enormous. Nevertheless, the offense that Brutus had made was proportionally enormous. Lucian had been counting on that.

  “I would advise—” Hazel began, but quieted when Brutus raised a single finger in her direction.

  The tent stayed totally silent as Brutus contemplated his decision. Lucian honestly didn’t expect to be granted it—his intent was to propose something extreme, and then to lower it down to his true offer. It was probably too much to expect Sancar’s brother to so quickly forget that grudge, but he did have substantial leverage.

  “There’s never been a disciple of the Martial Prince that came from outside the Confederation,” Brutus mused.

  Lucian nodded. “If it’s too difficult, then perhaps we could—”

  “It’s difficult, but not impossible,” Brutus said. Lucian’s mouth fell open in alarm. “It’s tradition that dictates this fact, not law. I’d need to talk with some of the Confederation’s top families, but—”

  “Hold on,” Lucian said. “That’s… I’m not sure… maybe we could just settle with—”

  “This is something you want, don’t you?” Brutus asked. “You wouldn’t have brought it up if it wasn’t something you wanted.”

  “But involving the families…” Lucian said, loosening his collar. “I’m not sure that—”

  “You’re skilled,” Brutus said. “Beyond skilled. The level of talent needed to do what you did, with your body as it is… incalculable. It’s something I already considered, but dared not suggest on account of my offense. But if our minds are aligned, I can achieve it. I am the Martial Prince, after all.”

  “…I think Lucian is worried about the attention that this might draw,” Hazel said, and Lucian nodded at once.

  “Perhaps we could start with learning a few skills?” Lucian proposed. “Until such an arrangement would be less… controversial.”

  Brutus contemplated that, and then nodded. “Yes. Absolutely! But I certainly won’t drop this matter.”

  Lucian clicked his tongue uneasily. “Then, if I could heal you…?”

  Brutus consented, and Lucian carefully healed the Martial Prince’s eye. It took a lot out of him for such a small wound, but then Brutus’ HP pool was much larger than he was used to.

  He had a feeling this would cause some complications in the future. But maybe such complications wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome.

  ***

  “I give my consent to search the properties of Aisha Hamin,” Brutus declared before Turke Dumane, Harika Hamin, and the council of the Confederation.

  Lucian stood on the outside gallery, joining the ranks of spectators. After a very long night and a short morning, Lucian had traveled with the Martial Prince back to Arshade.

  “There we have it,” Theobald said, patting Lucian on the back as the proceedings continued. “Well done. Not entirely pleased you forgot about me last night. I was standing out there until the frost started to creep in. But… you got the job done.”

  “I’m sorry, but it… it was tense,” Lucian justified. “You must’ve heard the welcome I got.”

  “I did. I nearly assumed you’d be returning on a coffin,” Theobald said with a chuckle, then trailed off. “Hmm… that’s not funny, come to think of it.”

  “There was a lot to think about, and Brutus was difficult to rein in. I didn’t mean to forget you, I swear.”

  Theobald shrugged. “Water under the bridge. Now…” He gestured to the council below. “…we get to sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

  Lucian nodded in agreement. Now, the examination of the Sacral Princess would begin. Lucian had some downtime. Part of that would be occupied by lessons with the Martial Prince. Beyond that? Lucian had a few plans.

  With his prime problem taken care of, there was nothing stopping Lucian from doing in Arshade as he’d done in Golvenne.

  Well… perhaps a mob lynching could stop him. He wasn’t nobility here.