The Lord of the Seas - An Isekai Progression Fantasy [ Currently on Volume 2 ]

The morning of the Celebration came cloaked in gold and red, the sky painted with ribbons of the rising sun that did little to warm Lukas' mood.

Lukas had not gotten a second of sleep. He had not slept in days, really—not since they first passed through the gates of the Inner Cities. Not since he'd seen the dragons in chains. Especially since what Valkari had done.

How could he?

This was the heart of Nozar. The very center of the empire that had burned through Linemall's skies and broken its people.

Sleeping here felt like an insult to the dead, an insult to the lives lost and the lives they continued to lose as the dragons remained in chains.

Lukas felt more at peace, knowing that he was wide awake for any danger that might come their way. So he sat at his desk in silence, the parchment before him slowly filling with ink. He'd written three pages already, front and back, and yet he still had so much more to say.

The letter was for Styx, of course. It always was.

Lukas wrote to her every night, often more than once. He never missed a day, even during their travels to Nozar. He told her everything. He told her bout Jesse, about Rosalia and all about their journey to Nozar. He was now writing to her about meeting Maelis, Rosalia's uncle. He had just begun to tell her how much of a massive prick the guy had been when a knock interrupted the scratch of quill on paper.

Lukas froze, frowning. It was early—too early for anyone to come knocking on his door. And he did not think that anyone on this ship should have had any business knocking on his door before the sun had even properly risen.

He stood, quietly, and opened the door. And there, grinning like he'd just wandered into the wrong tavern and decided to stay anyway, stood the Archmage Varian yet again.

"Morning, you big ball of sunshine," the old man greeted Lukas before brushing past him without waiting for an invitation to come on in.

Varian dropped himself onto Lukas' bed like he owned it, groaning and muttering something about his back.

With a soft sigh, Lukas closed the door behind him slowly. He assumed Varian was here to answer his questions but he had thought that was a conversation that would wait until they were at sea with Nozar far off in the distance.

"I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit under the weather, Klein. Long night, a strong drink. You understand." He told Lukas.

"No, Varian. I do not understand." Lukas said flatly.

"Well, that's because you're still young and in your prime!" Varian replied, cracking a smile. "Point is—I won't be attending the Celebration."

Lukas raised an eyebrow, confused. "You're not going to be there?"

"Nope. But you'll be there. The Tower still needs a Representative." The Archmage told him, his eyes twinkling with a hint of that drunken amusement. "As such, that responsibility falls upon you."

The Dragon Lord blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused," Varian replied cheerfully as he dug into his robes and pulled out a smooth ivory card, flicking it toward Lukas. "Tell the tailor that Varian sent you. Get yourself something presentable. I've seen your outfits. They are deplorable on a good day."

That was rich coming from Varian but Lukas did not take offense to it. Lukas caught the card, staring at it but still focused on the fact that Varian was skipping out on the Celebration. "You're serious."

"Serious as death, boy."

There was a moment of silence as Varian handed him a pendant, a pendant of the Magic Tower.

A pendant that the Representative of the Tower would wear proudly for the rest of Hiraeth to see.

Then, softer, the Archmage added, "I'll keep an eye on the girl while you attend the Celebration. I'll make sure nothing happens while everyone is away. I promise."

And just like that, Lukas understood.

Varian was doing it again.

Just like last night and just like how he'd healed all the dragons below deck, Varian was giving him another helping hand. Again and again and again, the Archmage continued to show him kindness and wanted nothing in return.

Lukas had honestly been worried about who would look after Valkari when all of them would need to show face at the Celebration.

Varian was yet again throwing him a lifeline.

"Why?" Lukas asked.

Varian just smiled, the kind of smile only men who've lived too long can give. "Because I'm feeling under the weather. I just told you or are your ears hard of hearing?"

Lukas held the card from Varian and stared at it for a moment, running his thumb along the edge.

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Then, for reasons even he himself did not fully understand, he smiled.

"Thank you," Lukas whispered softly, the words carrying more weight than they usually did. "I mean it. Thank you, Varian."

Varian, halfway through adjusting his robes, glanced up and immediately frowned. "What in the bloody hell are you smiling at me like that for?"

Lukas did not answer right away. He just looked at the old man—the disheveled robes, the bottles of rum, the tired eyes that held a lifetime of magic and mistakes—and continued to smile.

"You're a good man, Varian," Lukas finally said.

Varian blinked.

The words hung in the air between them like smoke.

For the first time, the Archmage looked genuinely caught off guard.

It was usually Lukas who was left speechless around him, but not this time. For once, it was Varian who didn't know what to say.

"Where on Hiraeth did that come from?" the old man muttered, clearly flustered.

Lukas gave a small laugh, folding the card and slipping it into his pocket. He didn't say anything more, just watched Varian quietly, thoughtfully.

Nozar's Youngest Son, the former prince Darren Ittriki, had said the same thing about him just days ago in the Outer Cities of Nozar. At the time he didn't think much of it except to appreciate those kind words. Now, Lukas understood what he meant when Darren had said those words to him.

Varian tried to recover, shaking his head with a dry laugh. "You must be mistaken. I've made more mistakes than I care to count. I've done things that...I can no longer take back. I've lived a life full of regret, I'm afraid. I am far from being a good man, boy."

The Archmage raised the whiskey bottle to his lips, but before he could take a swig, Lukas gently reached out and stopped him, his hand firm on the bottle's neck. It was not meant to disrespect Varian, that much was clear.

"Maybe that is true. Maybe it is true that you have made mistakes," Lukas told the old Archmage, voice still low. "But all of us have done things we wish we could change. All of us have regrets. That doesn't make you a bad man, Varian."

Lukas paused for a moment, making sure Varian heard every word that followed.

"It means you have lived. It means that you have learned. And you're still choosing to do what's right. You're a better man than you were in the past. And that's what matters. That...is what makes you a good man to me."

For a long moment, Varian just sat there, staring at Lukas like he'd never seen him before. The Archmage's lips parted slightly, and when he tried to speak, his voice caught. He cleared his throat quickly, but it was no use—Lukas could see it in his eyes.

It was the rare, unguarded expression of a man not used to such words.

"I…" Varian started, but he didn't finish. He did not need to.

Lukas just nodded and stepped back. "I'll pay this tailor a visit. I'll make sure I represent the Tower well."

Varian gave him a small nod. He didn't stop Lukas this time as he walked towards the door. The old man just sat there on that bed, the bottle of whiskey still in hand, watching the young man leave the room.

For some reason, Varian did not feel the urge to drink.

Lukas reached the doorway, but paused one last time as the Archmage cleared his throat to speak.

"We will talk more," Varian promised, his voice quieter now. "Once this Celebration is over. Once Nozar is behind us. All the questions you have, I will answer them."

Lukas glanced back at him, the flicker of a smirk touching his lips.

Then, without a word, he activated the Crown.

It was subtle but with Varian—an Archmage and a man who'd walked the path of magic for decades—in such close proximity, the old man felt it immediately.

A wave of pressure, warm and ancient, washed over him like the memory of a storm. Varian's breath caught sharp in his throat as the Crown's power reached out and connected with his mind, establishing a direct link between them.

Varian looked up, eyes wide, and Lukas met his gaze.

"Klein," Lukas' voice spoke through the Crown and in Varian's mind yet his lips did not move, "is not my real name."

Varian didn't speak. He simply stared at Lukas, the truth inching closer with every heartbeat.

"I think you have earned the right to know that." Lukas continued. "My true name...is Lukas Drakos."

The name hit like a hammer.

Lukas did not for a response. He offered a respectful nod and turned once more, walking through the door and disappearing down the corridor, his presence slowly fading with every step.

The Master of Potions sat on that bed for a long while, the name echoing through his mind like a drumbeat.

Lukas Drakos.

Drakos.

The name of one of the Great Ruling Houses of Linemall.

A name whispered in reverence.

A name bound to history, to war, to power.

A name that many had forgotten but a scholar like Varian had not.

His was the bloodline that ruled the oceans of Linemall. The Dragons of the Deep. The Dragon Lords of the Sea.

Varian slowly leaned back, letting out a sharp breath, then—

The Archmage laughed. A laugh full of disbelief, nerves, and something close to wonder. A wild, breathless sound, sharp and quiet as it tumbled out of him. He stared at the empty doorway where Lukas had stood just moments before.

All this time, he had never been able to comprehend Klein and what he was capable to do.

Finally, it made sense to Varian why Magnus had taken this no-name oaf of a boy under his wing.

It made sense why someone like him, just an Apprentice Mage, had been put in charge of the Princess' training.

Varian hadn't just been speaking to a prodigy. "Klein" was not just some man who had travelled to Easthaven from the small village of Ilagron and he was not just some talented young gun trying to make a name for himself in the Tower.

The Archmage had been speaking to a Dragon.

A Dragon Lord of Linemall. Varian had been speaking to one of the most powerful beings in all of Hiraeth's existence, a being whose power was said to be comparable...to a god.

Maybe, just maybe, Lukas could be the one to do it. He could be the one who could do the things Varian could not.