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Chapter 130: Redemption

The faintest hints of dawn had yet to touch the sky when Lucavion stirred in his bed. The quiet of the inn surrounded him, the soft creak of wood and the occasional whisper of the wind the only sounds breaking the stillness. It was a routine he had built over the years—waking before the sun before the world came alive. It kept him sharp and focused.

He dressed quickly, pulling on his well-worn training gear, and quietly slipped out of his room. The hallway was empty, the inn still cloaked in the deep silence of night. As he descended the stairs, he didn't bother with a light. His steps were sure, his body already accustomed to the darkness.

Outside, the cool pre-dawn air greeted him. The chill bit at his skin, but it was familiar, invigorating. Without a word, Lucavion began his morning run. His breath came out in steady, controlled puffs as he moved through the empty streets, his body falling into the rhythm he knew so well.

He ran swiftly, his steps light as he passed through the town's outskirts and beyond the walls. His familiar opening lay ahead, a secluded clearing just outside the city, a place he had claimed for himself. As he reached it, Lucavion slowed, his chest rising and falling steadily from the exertion.

Without pause, he drew his estoc. The blade gleamed faintly in the dim light, but there was no time for admiration. His training was about precision, focus, and pushing the limits of his physical and magical abilities.

He moved through his forms, each strike, thrust, and parry deliberate, practiced. The weight of the estoc in his hand was comforting, and its balance was perfect for his style. As the sword danced in his grip, he felt the familiar hum of mana rising within him, his cultivation beginning.

The energy flowed through his body, coiling and gathering at his core. This was more than just physical training—it was the path he had chosen to strengthen his connection to both vitality and death.

Lucavion paused for a moment after sheathing his estoc, taking a deep breath as the first light of dawn spilled across the clearing. His muscles ached a familiar soreness that signaled he had pushed himself enough. Today's training had gone well. The precision of his strikes, the balance between his physical prowess and the flow of mana—it all felt right.

He allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction, feeling the energy still coiled within him, ready to be called upon when needed.

'Not bad,' he thought to himself, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He had made progress today, both physically and in his cultivation.

As he stood there, soaking in the morning air, a familiar voice broke the silence.

[Have you finished already?] Vitaliara's voice echoed in his mind, thick with the grogginess of someone who had just woken up. A yawn followed her words, and Lucavion couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"Good morning to you, too," he replied, his tone light. "I've been at it for hours."

[Hours? Hmm…] Vitaliara's voice trailed off as she shifted lazily, still not fully awake. [You know, I could help you train if you ever asked, but you seem to enjoy all the hard work.] She purred softly, almost teasing.

Lucavion shook his head with a small smile. "You know me well enough by now. I prefer to push myself."

[Of course, you do.] She yawned again, her presence warm and comforting as always. [So, what's next? Bath time? You humans and your need for cleanliness…] There was a playful edge to her tone.

Lucavion rolled his shoulders, feeling the tension ease from his muscles. "Yes, bath time. After that, breakfast."

[Enjoy,] she purred, her voice trailing off as she settled back into her usual state of lazy contentment. Vitaliara rarely joined him in his rigorous morning routines, preferring to sleep or lounge nearby while he worked. As a mythical beast, her nature was wild and untamed, and she enjoyed her leisure.

With Vitaliara drifting back into her rest, Lucavion made his way toward the river, the crisp morning air refreshing against his skin. Reaching the edge of the water, he stripped off his training gear, the cold breeze biting at his skin for a moment before he stepped into the river.

The chill of the water was sharp at first, but it invigorated him, washing away the fatigue from his muscles and the sweat from his body. Lucavion let the cold water rush over him, cleansing away the remnants of his morning training. The river was quiet, the soft trickle of water the only sound breaking the dawn.

'I will pretend that I did not see this.'

Well, at the same time, a pair of eyes were looking at him underneath the white fur.

'You act like you don't care, but you always do that?'

He could only sigh at her antics. Though, he did not much care. After all, being his contracted familiar, they were together most of the time, and Vitaliara was a mythical beast.

After he was clean, he allowed himself a brief moment of stillness, watching the light shift across the surface of the water before stepping back onto the bank. He dressed quickly, the day ahead of him already weighing on his mind.

"Time for breakfast," he muttered to himself, casting one last glance at the clearing before making his way back to the inn. The day had only just begun.

Lucavion returned to the inn with the same quiet determination he always carried, the cool morning air still clinging to his skin. As he stepped inside, the familiar warmth of the hearth greeted him once again. The soft crackle of the fire and the low hum of conversation from a few early risers filled the air.

Greta, the innkeeper's daughter, was at the counter. As soon as she saw him, her expression changed—respectful, almost shy, but with that familiar hint of curiosity that she had shown ever since his role in the bandit subjugation became known.

"Good morning, Sir Lucavion," she greeted, her voice soft as she approached him. "Would you like your breakfast now?"

Lucavion gave a small nod, his eyes briefly meeting hers. "Yes, thank you."

Greta offered him a quick, almost bashful smile before hurrying off to prepare his meal. Lucavion took a seat at his usual spot near the hearth, allowing the warmth of the fire to settle into his bones as he waited.

It wasn't long before Greta returned with his breakfast—freshly baked bread, cured meat, and a warm bowl of porridge. She placed it carefully in front of him, her movements delicate. Though she was respectful, Lucavion noticed the way she kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye, quickly looking away whenever he looked back.

He didn't pay much mind to it and began eating, savoring the quiet moment. The food was simple but hearty, perfect for someone who had just finished a rigorous morning of training.

As he was halfway through his meal, the door to the inn suddenly swung open with a heavy creak. The sharp sound caused Greta, who had been cleaning nearby, to flinch. Lucavion looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he saw who had entered.

It was Ragna, the Awakened man from the town garrison.

The last time Lucavion had encountered Ragna, the man had been fierce, arrogant, and eager to assert his dominance over others. But now, as Ragna stood in the doorway, he looked different. His demeanor was far more subdued, his shoulders hunched slightly as if weighed down by something. His once fiery gaze had softened, and the air of arrogance he once carried was notably absent.

Ragna's eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on Lucavion, something like unease flickered across his face. He hesitated for a moment before stepping fully inside, his movements slower, more deliberate than before.

Greta quickly moved to the back, clearly not wanting to be near the man, but Lucavion stayed where he was, his gaze calm but watchful as Ragna approached.

"Sir….Lucavion," Ragna said quietly, stopping a few feet away from the table. His tone was much calmer than it had been during their last encounter. "I… I came to speak with you."

Lucavion raised an eyebrow but continued eating, giving Ragna a nod to continue. He could sense that whatever Ragna had to say wasn't the usual bluster he had been known for. This was something different.

"I need to apologize," Ragna said, his voice low but clear. "For how I acted before. I was… wrong to challenge you, to act the way I did."

Lucavion paused for a moment, setting his spoon down as he studied the man before him. "You've changed your tone," he said, his voice measured.

Ragna nodded slowly, a flash of humility crossing his features. "I've had time to think. What you did—helping the town, taking down those bandits—you're not someone to be trifled with. I see that now."

Lucavion leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable as he regarded the man. "What is it that you want, then?"

Ragna hesitated again before speaking. "I want to make amends. I acted foolishly before, and I know that."

Lucavion considered his words carefully, sensing the sincerity in Ragna's tone. This was no longer the same arrogant man he had faced before. Something had shifted.

Lucavion's gaze remained steady on Ragna, his expression calm but with a sharp edge beneath the surface. He wasn't one to let things slide easily, especially when it came to matters that went beyond mere arrogance. The memory of Ragna harassing Greta, abusing his authority over those weaker than him, was still fresh in his mind. An apology wasn't enough—not for that.

"You want to make amends," Lucavion repeated, his voice low and controlled. "But words alone won't change anything." He looked into Ragna, his eyes turning cold.

"You need to pay the price for your actions."

Chapter 131: Redemption 2

"You need to pay the price for your actions."

As Lucavion said that, a sudden pressure enveloped Ragna. It was something primal, something that he had witnessed before.

The same feeling when this young man before him first made his appearance.

Bloodlust.

"Haaaaah...Haaaaaah...…"

It was getting hard to breathe for every second, as if his lungs were getting crushed. But just as it happened, it disappeared at the same time.

"Haaaah…."

Lucavion ignored Ragna's heavy breathing as he continued with his words.

"The damage you've caused—especially to people like Greta—is not something that can be forgiven just because you've had time to think."

Ragna's eyes flickered with discomfort, his shoulders tensing slightly at the mention of Greta. He knew what Lucavion was referring to, and the weight of his past actions seemed to settle heavily on him.

Lucavion didn't soften his gaze. "You've harassed people, taken advantage of your authority, and caused harm to those who couldn't defend themselves. If you truly want to make amends, you'll show it through your actions. You'll compensate for the damage you've done—especially the emotional damage. People like Greta and others in this town have suffered under your arrogance."

Ragna swallowed hard, his face paling slightly. He had expected a cold acceptance, maybe even some form of relief, but Lucavion's words cut deeper than he had anticipated. There was no escaping the consequences of his actions, and Lucavion wasn't about to let him walk away so easily.

"I… I understand," Ragna muttered, his voice wavering slightly. "I'll do what I can to make things right. I never realized—"

"You knew," Lucavion cut him off, his tone firm. "You just didn't care. But now that your position has changed, you think an apology is enough. It isn't. You'll need to prove yourself, not to me, but to the people you've wronged. And if you think for a second that I'll tolerate any more of your behavior, you're mistaken."

There was no mistaking the threatening tone underneath Lucavion's calm facade. Ragna could feel the weight of his words, the unspoken warning that hung in the air. He knew that if he faltered again, Lucavion wouldn't hesitate to step in.

"I will," Ragna said, his voice quiet but resolute. "I'll do whatever it takes to make amends."

Lucavion leaned back slightly, his expression still unreadable, though the tension in the room was palpable. "Then start right now."

"Right now?"

"Right now," Lucavion repeated, his voice unyielding. He didn't move, his gaze steady on Ragna, but the weight of his demand was clear.

Ragna's breath hitched as Lucavion continued. "You will kneel before Greta. You'll put your head to the floor and apologize. A true apology, one that reflects your understanding of the damage you've done."

The color drained from Ragna's face, his eyes widening in shock. For a moment, disbelief flickered in his expression, followed quickly by a flash of anger. "Kneel? You're asking me to—" His voice was thick with indignation, and his eyes flared with a fierce, dangerous glint.

Lucavion leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips. "I'm not asking, Ragna. I'm telling you. If you're truly sincere in making amends, if you really want to become a better person as you claim, then kneel before her and show it. Let's see if you have the strength to face your actions head-on."

Ragna's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. His pride, already hanging by a thread, was being trampled. He stared at Lucavion, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Do I really have to do that?" he asked, his voice low, almost growling, as if he were trying to cling to whatever dignity he had left.

Lucavion's smile widened, though it held no warmth. His gaze bore into Ragna's with a calm intensity that was far more unsettling than any outburst could have been. "Of course," he said softly, his voice laced with quiet menace. "That's how I'll know you mean it. How else can you prove your sincerity? Or is your pride more important than making things right?"

Ragna's breathing became labored again, the suffocating weight of Lucavion's presence pressing down on him once more. His anger warred with the fear coursing through him, but it was the next words that truly shattered his resolve.

"What do you think Greta felt," Lucavion said, his voice now chillingly calm, "when you touched her in all those places? How disgusted she must have been, how uncomfortable, how powerless she must have felt. Do you think an apology alone will wipe that away?"

Ragna flinched visibly at the mention of his actions. His face twisted with a mix of shame and rage, but he said nothing, his fists trembling at his sides. The truth of Lucavion's words was undeniable, and the pressure in the air was suffocating.

"You want to make amends?" Lucavion continued, his gaze never wavering. "Then kneel. Show her that you understand how low you made her feel, how much you've taken from her."

The tension in the room was unbearable, the silence stretching on as Ragna's inner battle raged. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ragna's shoulders slumped, the fight leaving him as he lowered his gaze to the floor.

"I'll do it," Ragna muttered, his voice hoarse, broken.

"Good," Lucavion said, his voice calm but cold. "Then do it now."

Ragna's knees hit the floor with a heavy thud, the sound echoing in the inn's quiet space. Greta stood frozen behind the counter, her eyes wide with shock and confusion as she watched the man who had once tormented her kneel before her.

At first, Ragna trembled, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. The shame, the humiliation—it was all too much, weighing on him like a crushing force. His head bowed low, his face nearly touching the floor.

"I'm sorry," Ragna began, his voice low and thick with emotion. "For everything."

He paused, the words sticking in his throat, but he forced himself to continue. "I acted out of impulse. I thought I was someone important—a big shot, someone who could do whatever he wanted just because I had a bit of power." He squeezed his eyes shut, his body still shaking as the weight of his confession pressed down on him.

"But I was wrong," he said, his voice growing stronger. "I was nothing but a frog in a well, thinking the world revolved around me. I took advantage of people, used my position to make others feel small… to make you feel small."

Greta's hands trembled as she listened, her eyes darting between Ragna and Lucavion, unsure of what to do. Lucavion stood silently, watching the scene unfold, his expression unreadable but his eyes keen, observing every detail.

"I'm sorry, Greta," Ragna continued, his trembling slowly subsiding as the words flowed out. "I hurt you. I made you feel like you had no power, no control. I know an apology can't erase what I've done, but… I want to make things right. Somehow."

There was a long pause, the air thick with the weight of his words. Greta remained silent, her face a mixture of emotions—disbelief, fear, but also a glimmer of something else, perhaps relief.

As Ragna continued, Lucavion noticed the change. The trembling that had overtaken Ragna at the start was now gone, replaced by a steadiness that hadn't been there before. His voice, though still strained, was sincere. There was no arrogance left in him, no pride.

'He's changed,' Lucavion thought to himself.

He had been skeptical at first, thinking Ragna's actions might be out of fear or desperation, but now… now he understood that Ragna saw something different.

'The fight with the bandits, the near-death experiences….It must have taught him a lot.'

And just as he thought, that was the case. While Ragna did not fight the lieutenants or Korvan, he did participate in the battle.

And there, he almost lost his life. At that time, he could not do anything. Previously, he thought he was strong, but as he felt the death coming for him once again, just like his colleagues from the garrison, he understood.

He had been foolish.

There were countless different people who could kill him: the city guards that he relied on, the leader of the guards, Roderick…

None of them could stand. He was just an ant in the face of the world.

Vitaliara's soft voice echoed in his mind. [He's broken, but sometimes, people need to be broken before they can change.]

Lucavion's gaze remained steady on Ragna. The former bully was still kneeling, his head lowered, waiting for some kind of response. There was no need for more words from Lucavion; the sincerity of Ragna's apology spoke for itself.

Finally, Greta took a small step forward, her hands gripping the edges of her apron tightly. "I…..I….."

She could not say anything. Confronting the person that terrorized her many times was not easy, even for her.

"I am sorry! Please, I will pay for my mistakes….Until you forgive me, just give me the word!"

Greta stood frozen, her fingers trembling as they clutched the fabric of her apron tightly. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, and the words she wanted to speak seemed stuck in her throat. Ragna's plea for forgiveness hung in the air, echoing with a desperation she had never expected to hear from him.

She had been terrified of this man for so long, but now, seeing him kneeling before her, broken and begging for a chance to make things right, it stirred something within her—a flicker of courage that she hadn't felt in a long time. Still, the pain he had caused her couldn't simply vanish, and the fear lingered in the corners of her mind.

Slowly, Greta managed a small nod, her lips pressing into a thin line as she swallowed hard. She couldn't bring herself to speak, not yet, but her nod was enough—a silent acknowledgment that she had heard him, that she understood his remorse.

Lucavion watched the exchange closely, his sharp eyes noticing the shift in Greta's demeanor. Her fear hadn't disappeared entirely, but there was something else now—a quiet strength, a small but visible sign that she was beginning to reclaim the power she had lost under Ragna's torment. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now.

Vitaliara's voice purred softly in Lucavion's mind. [She's finding her way, slowly. That's the first step.]

Lucavion nodded ever so slightly, agreeing with her. It didn't matter that Greta couldn't find the words yet. The fact that she stood there, facing the man who had terrorized her, with her head held a little higher, was a victory in itself.

"That will do for now," Lucavion said calmly, his gaze shifting back to Ragna. "You've made your apology, but it will take time to earn back any trust. Continue to show that you've changed, not just with words, but with actions."

Ragna bowed his head low again. "I will. I promise."

"Now, let's talk about the real reason you came here."

Chapter 132: Meeting the Baron

"Now, let's talk about the real reason you came here."

At Lucavion's words, Ragna suddenly jumped, his entire body tensing as if jolted by a bolt of lightning. He flinched visibly, his eyes wide with a mixture of panic and realization. For a moment, he seemed lost, as if the weight of the previous encounter had completely clouded his thoughts.

"Oh, right!" Ragna stammered, his voice rushed. "I… I forgot the reason I came here." He glanced at Lucavion, then at Greta, before turning back to Lucavion with a look of desperation, clearly flustered. "Sir Roderick! He sent me to find you. He's asking for you to meet with him. It's… important."

Lucavion watched the man's frantic movements with a calm, almost amused expression. Ragna's nerves were frayed, and the tension from earlier still hadn't fully left him, but Lucavion could sense the urgency in his words.

"Important, you say?" Lucavion asked, his voice calm but inquisitive as he leaned back in his chair, considering the request.

Ragna nodded hastily, his eyes wide. "Yes, very important. He said to bring you as soon as possible."

Lucavion tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving Ragna's. "I'll meet with him," he said calmly, reaching for his spoon to resume his meal. "After I finish my breakfast."

Ragna blinked, the urgency in his expression wavering as he processed Lucavion's response. The young man's tone was so calm, so utterly composed, that it left no room for argument. Lucavion's unhurried demeanor seemed to remind Ragna once again of the difference between them.

"Of… of course," Ragna muttered, bowing quickly. "I'll let him know you'll come shortly." He hesitated for a moment, as if uncertain whether he should say more, but then quickly bowed again and made his way out of the inn, his steps quicker than before.

As the door closed behind Ragna, Lucavion continued his breakfast, his thoughts briefly lingering on the summons. He wasn't surprised that Roderick had called for him; after all, the baron was waiting to meet him.

'It must be the Baron.'

He thought.

For the past week, he had intentionally kept a low profile, biding his time until all the formalities were in place. The battle with Korvan had earned him enough respect, but the last thing he wanted was to meet with the Baron as an outsider, with no official standing in the Empire. The ID card Roderick had secured for him had finally made him a legitimate citizen.

Now that everything was in order, there was no longer any reason to avoid the inevitable.

Lucavion took another bite of his breakfast, savoring the taste as Vitaliara's voice stirred in his mind, soft and thoughtful. [You've been patient, waiting for this moment. Now that your identity is settled, there's no reason to hold back.]

"Exactly," Lucavion muttered under his breath while wiping his face.

He knew exactly why the Baron was calling him—not just out of gratitude for ridding the region of Korvan and his bandits, but because the Baron wanted something more. It was clear that as a countryside noble, the Baron lacked the strength and influence that larger, more powerful lords possessed. He needed connections, alliances with people who had proven themselves capable.

And Lucavion had done just that.

'He wants to make a connection,' Lucavion thought, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. The Baron would want to secure his loyalty or, at the very least, keep him close.

It was a common tactic among the lesser nobility—aligning with anyone who could strengthen their position. And Lucavion, fresh from his victory over Korvan, was exactly the kind of person the Baron would want on his side.

There was no doubt in Lucavion's mind that the Baron would offer him a generous amount of compensation.

Vitaliara's voice hummed in his mind. [You know exactly what's coming, don't you? The Baron will be eager to please.]

Lucavion smirked. "Of course. He'll try to buy my loyalty with whatever he can offer. "But well, we will see."

He made his way out of the inn as he went to meet with Roderick.

*******

Lucavion walked with measured steps toward Roderick's quarters, his mind already anticipating the conversation that would unfold. As expected, when he entered, Roderick was waiting for him, standing by the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Ah, Lucavion," Roderick greeted, turning toward him with a slight nod. "The Baron wishes to meet with you tonight."

Lucavion's lips curled into a faint smile. "Dinner, I assume?"

Roderick nodded, his expression serious. "Yes. The Baron wants to show his gratitude for what you did with the bandits. He's invited you to dine with him at his manor."

Lucavion couldn't help but chuckle softly. "I expected as much," he said, his tone light.

Roderick's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked Lucavion over, his gaze sweeping from head to toe. "But… are you really thinking of meeting the Baron dressed like that?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Lucavion glanced down at his attire—his usual practical and slightly worn travel clothes, suited for battle and rough terrain but hardly fitting for a noble's dinner. He raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at his lips. "It's not like I'm meeting the emperor, is it?"

Roderick frowned, unable to argue with the logic, but his disapproval was evident. "Still," he pressed, "you should make a good impression. This isn't just a formal meal—it's a chance to build a relationship. Appearances matter."

Lucavion smirked, clearly unconcerned. "Don't worry, Roderick. I know how to make myself presentable when it counts." His tone carried a hint of playful arrogance, as though he found the entire concern amusing.

Roderick let out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Please… make sure you do. I was the one who recommended you to him."

"Heeeeh…..Really?" Lucavion's smirk widened as he looked at Roderick, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief. "Really?" he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. "You went out of your way to recommend me? How touching."

Roderick's face flushed slightly, a bead of sweat forming on his brow as he shifted uncomfortably. He knew all too well that Lucavion could be unpredictable, and the thought of him behaving out of line in front of the Baron clearly weighed on his mind.

"You don't need to get any ideas," Roderick muttered, trying to maintain his composure. "Just… try not to do anything too out of the ordinary. The Baron's a reasonable man, but he expects certain formalities."

Lucavion chuckled softly, his teasing smirk never fading. "Don't worry, Roderick," he said, his tone still light. "I won't do anything that'll reflect badly on you. After all, I wouldn't want you to lose face with your precious Baron."

Roderick's shoulders tensed as he watched Lucavion, fully aware that controlling this man's actions was nearly impossible. Still, he nodded, though his expression remained wary. "I'm holding you to that, Lucavion."

With a casual wave, Lucavion turned to leave, still wearing that teasing smirk. "Relax, Roderick. I know when to play the part."

Roderick let out a long sigh as the door closed behind Lucavion, muttering under his breath, "I sure hope so."Top of Form

*******

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a warm amber glow across the small city of Rackenshore as Roderick and Lucavion made their way toward the Baron's mansion. The streets were quieter now, the bustle of the day winding down, but the presence of guards stationed at various points was a clear reminder of the Baron's vigilance.

Lucavion walked alongside Roderick, his posture relaxed, though his eyes were sharp, taking in the details of the town as they approached the mansion. Unlike many nobles, the Baron's residence wasn't an opulent estate set apart from the common folk. Instead, it was nestled within the city itself, practical and close to the people he governed.

The mansion wasn't overly grand, but it exuded a sense of quiet authority. Its stone walls were sturdy, and though there was a small garden at the front, it was clear the Baron had prioritized security and functionality over extravagance.

The Baron's modesty, in contrast to many of his peers, spoke volumes about his leadership style—someone grounded, with no delusions of grandeur, and someone who understood the importance of being close to his people.

As they approached the entrance, the guards stationed outside straightened immediately upon seeing them. Their eyes flickered to Lucavion, and without hesitation, they bowed their heads respectfully. It was clear they had been instructed to treat him with the utmost respect.

Lucavion didn't react outwardly, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips, amused by how quickly things had shifted after his role in the bandit subjugation.

Roderick glanced at Lucavion, watching his reaction carefully, but Lucavion remained composed. The smirk was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

One of the guards stepped forward, gesturing toward the large wooden doors of the mansion. "Sir Roderick, Sir Lucavion, the Baron is expecting you," he said, his voice steady and formal.

Roderick gave a brief nod and motioned for Lucavion to follow him. As they entered, Lucavion couldn't help but notice how the interior of the mansion mirrored its exterior—tasteful but unpretentious. The Baron was clearly not one for excess, something Lucavion appreciated in its own way.

It made it clear that this noble wasn't concerned with flaunting wealth but focused more on the practicality and safety of his city.

They were led through a few corridors by a steward before arriving at a set of double doors leading to what appeared to be the dining hall. The steward paused, bowing slightly before opening the doors with a quiet creak.

CREAK!

And then the dining room was revealed.

Chapter 133: Meeting the Baron 2

As the doors creaked open, Lucavion's gaze settled on the warm, softly lit dining room beyond. The long table was already set, and seated at it were the Baron and his family. At the head of the table sat the Baron himself, dressed in simple but finely tailored clothing that spoke of practicality over ostentation.

Beside him was his wife, a woman of gentle grace with kind eyes, and across from her was Ron, the Baron's son, the very boy Lucavion had saved from the bandits. The boy's eyes lit up the moment he saw Lucavion, a mixture of admiration and gratitude shining in his gaze.

The Baron rose from his seat, a welcoming smile crossing his face as he gestured for Lucavion to enter. "Mister Lucavion," he began, his voice warm and sincere, "we are honored that you accepted our invitation to join us for dinner. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Lucavion nodded respectfully, understanding the significance of what he was seeing. As a former noble, he knew the unspoken rules of etiquette well. Having the Baron's wife and son present at the table was not just a formality; it was a gesture of trust, a symbol of the Baron's sincerity.

In noble circles, inviting someone to dine with one's family was a sign of openness, honesty, and genuine respect. It was a clear indication that the Baron valued this meeting beyond mere politics.

The Baron stepped forward with a warm, genuine smile, gesturing toward his family. "Allow me to formally introduce myself and my family, Mister Lucavion. I am Baron Edris Wyndhall, and this is my wife, Lady Elyra," he said, motioning to the graceful woman beside him, who offered Lucavion a kind smile. "And, of course, you've already met my son, Ron."

Ron beamed at Lucavion, his gratitude and admiration evident. "It's an honor to meet you again, Sir Lucavion," the boy added, his voice brimming with sincerity.

Lucavion inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the introductions with the calm grace of someone who had once moved in these circles. "The honor is mine, Baron Wyndhall, Lady Elyra, Ron."

Baron Edris smiled warmly, pleased by Lucavion's respectful demeanor. "Please, take your seat. Tonight's meal is a modest one, but I hope it will be to your liking."

Lucavion nodded and sat at the table, settling into the comfortable chair. The atmosphere, though formal, carried a sense of ease and honesty that he appreciated. Despite the wealth of the family, there was no excessive display of opulence, something Lucavion silently noted as a sign of the Baron's practical nature.

Once they were seated, the servants brought out the first course—a simple yet elegant spread of roasted game, fresh vegetables, and warm bread. The meal, while not extravagant, was a reflection of the region's abundance and the Baron's preference for practicality over excess.

As the food was served, Baron Edris raised his glass, offering a toast. "To Mister Lucavion, whose courage and skill have saved not only my son but also the people of Rackenshore. We are deeply indebted to you."

Lucavion raised his glass in response, his expression calm but courteous. "I appreciate your hospitality, Baron."

"Edris."

"Pardon?"

"Please call me by my name. My title as Baron sounds rather unnecessary when I was useless all the time and was no help."

Lucavion paused for a moment, meeting the Baron's eyes. The man's humility was surprising, given his station, but there was no doubt about the sincerity behind his words. Edris Wyndhall was not trying to play the part of a noble seeking favor; he genuinely seemed to feel indebted and even regretful for his lack of involvement in the events that had transpired.

For a brief second, Lucavion considered how different this man was from many other nobles he had encountered—men who would take credit for the deeds of others or use their titles to shield themselves from responsibility. Edris, however, seemed almost ashamed of his inability to act when his people were in danger.

Lucavion, though not one to let his emotions show easily, gave a slight nod. "Very well, Mister Edris," he said, his voice still composed but with a hint of acknowledgment. "But your title is not a reflection of your usefulness. You govern this land, and your people trust you. That alone holds value."

Lucavion's subtle refusal to address Edris by his first name didn't go unnoticed. The Baron observed him for a moment, his sharp eyes searching Lucavion's face before letting out a quiet sigh.

"You must not have had an easy life, Mister Lucavion," Edris said softly, his tone carrying a weight of understanding.

Lucavion smiled faintly in response, the gesture small but sincere. "Everyone has their own harshness to bear," he replied, his voice even but reflective.

Edris gave a nod, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, isn't that the truth," he agreed, the heaviness in his voice mirroring the reality of their respective burdens.

The conversation paused as the meal continued. Though the atmosphere was cordial, there was a sense of unspoken gravity between the two men, each carrying their own history of struggle. The clink of utensils on plates filled the silence for a few moments, but the tension was broken when Ron, the Baron's son, spoke up timidly.

"Excuse me, Sir Lucavion…" Ron began, his voice hesitant, as if unsure whether he was allowed to interrupt.

Lucavion turned his attention to the boy, his gaze softening slightly. "You have a question?" he asked, his tone gentler than before.

Ron nodded, his bright eyes full of curiosity and admiration. "I… I wanted to ask… how can I become strong like you?"

Lucavion's expression shifted slightly, caught off guard by the innocence and sincerity of the question. He looked at Ron for a moment, considering the boy's words, before responding. "Strong like me?"

Ron nodded eagerly, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. "Yes! I want to learn the sword and become a swordsman, but Father…" He glanced quickly at Edris, then back at Lucavion, his voice dropping. "Father doesn't want me to."

Lucavion couldn't help but smile at the boy's earnestness. There was a time when he had looked at the world with that same hopeful desire for strength. He leaned forward slightly, meeting Ron's eager gaze, but instead of answering right away, he asked, "Why?"

Ron blinked, surprised by the question. "Why?" he echoed as if he hadn't expected to be asked that.

Lucavion nodded, his voice calm but firm. "Why do you want to become strong? What drives you to pick up a sword and pursue this path?"

The question hung in the air as Ron paused, his youthful mind working to put his feelings into words. He glanced at his father, then back at Lucavion, clearly struggling with how to express himself.

Lucavion's gaze remained steady as he spoke, his voice carrying a weight that seemed to still the room. "Do you know why a sword is wielded, Ron?"

The young boy blinked again, clearly not expecting such a serious question. "I-I'm not sure," he stammered.

Lucavion leaned forward slightly, holding Ron's gaze. "When I saved you, Ron… do you remember what that sword was capable of? It's not just a tool to look impressive or to feel powerful. It's a weapon—a tool made to harm, to kill. When you pick up a sword, you dirty your hands with the weight of that responsibility. So, why do you want to learn how to wield it?"

Ron looked overwhelmed, his eyes flicking to his father and then back to Lucavion. He hadn't expected to be questioned so deeply, and the weight of what Lucavion was saying seemed to press on his young mind. He couldn't find the words to answer.

Seeing the boy's struggle, Lucavion's tone softened, though it remained firm. "If your goal is to protect those you care about, then you need to understand something. The only way to do that isn't by learning the sword."

Ron's eyes widened in confusion. "But… how else can I protect people?"

Lucavion leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "You will inherit this barony one day, won't you? If you want to protect the people, you can do it by strengthening this territory—by ruling it well. Becoming a high-ranking officer with authority, or making sure the people here can live without fear of bandits or starvation—that is also a way of protecting them.

You don't have to wield a sword to make a difference."

Ron listened intently, his young face filled with concentration. Though he was just a child, he had been raised to understand the importance of leadership and responsibility. He had seen firsthand the toll that ruling had taken on his father during the time when their people lived in fear of the bandits.

The memory of how stressed and worn out Edris had been weighed heavily on him, and Lucavion's words resonated.

Slowly, Ron nodded his head, his expression thoughtful as he processed what Lucavion had said. "I… I understand," he whispered. "There's more than one way to protect people."

Lucavion gave him a small nod, satisfied that Ron had grasped the essence of his message. "Exactly. Ruling is not an easy path, but it's a powerful one. You can protect the people you care about in ways far beyond what a sword can do."

Edris, who had been watching the exchange quietly, smiled softly at his son's growing understanding. He caught Lucavion's eye and gave him a silent nod of gratitude.

As the meal continued, Baron Edris found himself observing Lucavion more closely. The way the young man dined, his posture at the table, the subtle grace with which he moved—all of it hinted at an upbringing far more refined than that of a commoner. Each gesture, each carefully chosen word, carried the unmistakable air of nobility.

It was not something that could easily be learned by mere imitation; these were the habits of someone well-versed in etiquette, the sort of refinement passed down through generations of aristocratic training.

Edris, though a countryside Baron, had spent enough time around the aristocracy to recognize the signs. He wasn't a master at reading people, but the way Lucavion conducted himself was hard to miss. His manners were almost flawless, the kind that could easily belong to a higher-ranking noble.

Yet Edris knew that Lucavion had come from commoner origins, at least according to the identity Roderick had provided him with.

As the conversation around the table ebbed and flowed, Edris couldn't help but let his curiosity grow. How could someone with such apparent ties to the common class display the poise and discipline of a seasoned nobleman? Was there more to Lucavion's past than he had let on?

Edris cleared his throat lightly, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. "Mister Lucavion," he began, keeping his tone light but with a hint of interest, "I must say, you carry yourself with great refinement. Your manners, your etiquette… they are most impressive. Far more so than I would expect from someone with your background.

Forgive my forwardness, but you seem well-versed in the ways of nobility."

Lucavion looked up from his meal, meeting the Baron's gaze with that same composed expression. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes, but it passed as quickly as it had come. He gave a slight nod, his tone measured as he replied.

"I have learned that from my master."