The air felt stale. Stale, yet smelled so… appetizing? 'Where am I?' Byron asked himself. Then, it all came rushing back to him. The alleyway, the thief, the guild member, and then…
Byron kept his eyes shut. After taking a few deep breaths, he carefully listened to his surroundings. More than likely, he thought, he was in the hideout of the arcane and his thugs. 'But I'm not bound,' he thought, 'and I'm laid on a fabric of some sort. Where am I?'
And then Byron heard it. The sound of something sizzling. Was he casting a spell? Could he tell Byron was awake?
"Oh, blazes! No, no, no, don't do this now!"
Byron heard a panicked voice come from across the room. Strange, he thought, that sounded almost like-
No sooner than the sizzling started did it stop. A sigh of relief could be heard from where the panicking began. His eyes still shut, Byron attempted to listen for footsteps of any kind, or any information to deduce the size of the room precisely.
"Oh good, you're awake!"
Byron jumped out of his sofa with a startle.
"Sorry, sorry," the boy directly in front of him, almost too close for comfort, embarrassingly chuckled, "I suppose I was rather abrupt, wasn't I?"
Byron examined his surroundings. He was in a house, it seemed. A rather nice house, as far as homes outside of Castle Pathus go, if not a little dusty. It was as if this home had not been lived in for quite some time yet was taken well-care of. In front of him was the boy with the Leviathan Guild. What even happened? He quickly paced his eyes around the room nervously. Then he remembered-
"The arcane," Byron gasped out, "Where is the arcane?!"
The boy looked down, shaking his head.
"I couldn't get him," he said with a somber tone, "I'm sorry."
"Then Ulrich really is…" Byron realized.
The boy nodded. "I'm afraid so. Your friend deserved better than a death like that."
"It should have been me," Byron gritted his teeth, "they were after me. Ulrich wasn't even supposed to be there. I forced him to come with me, on his day of rest, and he was rewarded with a musketball to the head."
The boy in front of him frowned, clearly uncertain what to say. After a few moments of silence, the boy finally stood up and walked back to where the sizzling came from. Upon closer examination, Byron noticed it was a kitchen, and the sizzling had not been a spell, but water in a pot boiling over, the fire underneath burning hotter than what he had ever seen the chefs in Castle Pathus control.
"I'm Luca, by the way," the boy spoke up, pouring what appeared to be soup into two bowls. On his way to Byron's sofa, he grabbed a wooden spoon, placing it in the bowl, before handing it over to him.
"Byron," he replied, thanking Luca as he took the bowl from him, "Byron Phoenix."
Luca's eyes widened.
"The crown prince?!"
Byron slowly nodded.
"Yeah, that's me. The inheritor of all of Arcadia that can't even stop crime from happening in his father's own city. That can't even protect his own friends."
Luca thought for a moment, pondering what to say, most likely, before he sat down next to him, his own bowl in hand.
"Try it. I worked hard on it, you know. Plus, it's bad manners to not eat a meal your host made for you."
Byron looked to Luca, who was smiling proudly as if he had created the finest dish known to man. The finest chefs in the realm reside in Castle Pathus, there is zero chance of a boy in the leviathan guild making something better than his most trusted chefs. Yet, as Byron looked down into his bowl, his appetite grew.
A beautiful brown broth, filled with fresh herbs and mushrooms, not to mention what Byron could only assume were small, yet long pastries taking up most of the bowl, topped only by two thin slices of meat. He had never seen anything like this in his life. Despite that fact, the soup looked delicious. Byron took one sip from the bowl, then another, then another again.
"This is delicious," he muttered as he ate, "I've never had anything like this. How did you come up with such a dish?"
Luca smiled, "Glad you like it. This isn't my dish, but one of Commander Broker's. He told me he got this recipe from a merchant that hailed from Avatlar."
"Avatlar?!" Byron almost dropped his bowl, "Nobody's come out of that death trap in over a hundred years, let alone traded with outsiders. You mean to tell me they've been keeping things like this a secret from the rest of us?"
"You could learn ten thousand things a day and be completely oblivious to the millions of things you had no idea even existed. You might call this a secret; I call it untapped knowledge. And not even an Arcane could learn every ounce of knowledge in this world."
Byron looked down into his bowl, frowning. There it was again – the arcane. The so-called "protectors" of Arcadia that possessed powers beyond human comprehension, one of them having gone rogue, staging what can only be described as a revolt in the capitol of their beloved kingdom. Byron silently cursed the Octavia Accords keeping their identities private. If things were done his way, he thought, this rogue arcane would have been found weeks ago, imprisoned for a lifetime.
Instead, Byron and his council only had rumors to act on, a fatal flaw that resulted in Ulrich's death.
'That's right', Byron thought, 'Ulrich's dead. Ulrich's really dead. All because I wanted to play at being a hero.'
"Sorry," Luca sighed, "the last thing you want to think about is the arcane that roams the streets of Stormwynter, I'm sure."
Yet again, the arcane. Turning this city his father worked so hard to build into a battlefield. Tormenting the innocent citizens of his home. Turning his father's legacy into ash. That was it, Byron realized, that was why he could not feel sorrow, or pain, or even grief. All he could feel was hate. Hate towards himself for getting his best friend killed for no reason. Hate towards the arcane for delivering the final blow.
Byron clenched his spoon in his hand.
"I'm going to kill him," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm going to kill any Arcane that tarnishes my father's city, any Arcane that gets in my way, any Arcane that even thinks about bringing chaos to this kingdom."
Luca leaned away from Byron, a glint of fear in his eyes.
"Hey…" he started, "let's just take it easy, alright? You've been through a lot. Eat your soup, there's plenty more if you're still hungry. Get some rest if you haven't had enough already. Just… don't do anything crazy or brash."
Byron turned to Luca with a determined look in his eyes. He stared into his bright blue eyes for a moment before turning his head down back to the bowl, continuing to eat slowly.
Once the two had finished eating, Byron made his way to the kitchen with Luca, cleaning up after themselves.
"Hey," Byron said, "how did you know I was awake?"
"That's easy," Luca responded, "Your breathing changes when you're awake from when you're asleep."
"You could hear me breathing?"
"Something like… that," Luca answered hesitantly.
"You're strange, Luca. Stranger than anyone I've ever met, besides my uncle, maybe," Byron said.
"But I like you. Thanks for everything, really. I don't know where I would be without your help."
"Don't mention it," Luca smiled, "Commander Broker always tells me to look out for people who need help. I just wish I could have done more."
"You and me both."
The two sat in silence for a while, both in their own thoughts. While Luca appeared to be thinking about a brighter future, hopeful that things will improve despite his disturbing introduction to the capital city, Byron could only seethe as his thoughts remained on the arcane and Ulrich. No matter how hard he tried, he could not shake his hatred for the corruption that had rooted itself in his father's city.
Byron was so engrossed in his thoughts that he could not even hear the door opening, or the falling of steel that subsequently followed.
"Hey…" the voice coming from the door said nervously, "Luca… gods, what have you done?"
Byron looked up to see a hulking figure, speaking with a voice that would put fear in the hearts of lions, with his signature poorly maintained hair. Yes, Byron deduced, anybody would recognize the legendary hero Gar Sakev at first glance. Had he been looking for Byron? Gar Sakev looked worn out, tired from what one could assume was an extraneous day of labor. Peering past the doorway, Byron could tell night had fallen on the capital city. 'And if night had fallen', Byron thought, 'that means I've been unaccounted for since mid-day'.
"Captain!"
Luca ran to Gar Sakev's sword that had dropped, likely in shock, and quickly picked up the giant piece of steel. The boy very visibly struggled to carry the sword to its rack in the corner of the room, it being almost his size. Byron had only ever seen replicas of the fabled sword, which he chalked up to being simply too massive to be real-to-life. Upon seeing it firsthand, Byron was astounded to see the sword was bigger than even the replicas.
"Luca," Gar spoke with concern, looking to Byron across the room, "What are you doing with the prince?"
Luca looked over his shoulder to Byron, forcing a half-smile, before turning back to Gar.
"It's… probably best if we speak outside."
The two walked outside, Luca closing the door behind them. Byron could only hear muffles from inside, but could just barely make out a part of their conversation.
"Did you have to use it?"
"I did, Captain."
"Does he know?"
"No, Captain."
"Does the arcane know?"
"Ye-...Yes, Captain."
The conversation continued in a much quieter tone, impossible for Byron to overhear, and before long the two reentered the home.
Luca walked into another room as Gar Sakev approached the prince.
"Your Highness," he forced, "Allow me to escort you home. The entire city is searching for you."
Byron looked over to Luca who had come back in the room, holding a whetstone and cloth in hand. Luca matched Byron's gaze, giving a firm nod to the prince. Byron sighed before turning back to Gar, agreeing reluctantly.
"Yeah, let's go."
Little did either of the boys know, that would not be the last time they saw each other. As Byron walked alongside the veteran to the on-alert Castle Pathus, the only thing he could think about was the face the arcane made as Byron drifted into despair. It would be a face Byron would never forget.
.
.
.
It had been a month since that fateful day.
The sun shined down brightly on the bustling courtyard of Castle Pathus. The sounds of grunts and clashing of steel echoed throughout the keep as the kingsguard of House Phoenix sparred and trained against one another. Among the royal guardsmen was a determined Byron Phoenix, sparring against the newest recruit of the kingsguard, Jayce Dirk. Sweat dripping from his brow, staining his tight tunic for training, Byron performed a flawless parry of the recruit's blow, quickly following up by disarming him. As the sound of steel clattering against the pavement was heard, Byron sighed out in relief before collapsing to the ground. Jayce retrieved the sparring blade from the ground then walked to the exhausted prince, taking a seat next to him. From his own tunic, he retrieved a canteen of water, popping the cork as he took a drink.
"You fought well, Your Highness," he sighed out, "caught me by surprise there." Jayce handed the canteen to Byron.
"You were holding back on me," Byron said, taking a drink from the canteen, still breathing heavy, "I left myself open on more than several occasions, gave too many tells, and followed where you lead me. In a real fight, I'd be dead."
Byron took another drink from the canteen, handing it back to Jayce once finished, then stood up.
"Come on, let's go again."
The recruit shook his head as he corked the canteen, "You've been at this since dawn, Your Highness, you need a break."
"What I need is more practice, Jayce. The enemy is within our walls, and you expect me to take it easy?"
"I expect you to know your limits. All you've done the last month from sunrise to sunset is train. Your muscles are aching, and it shows in your fighting."
Byron scoffed, "Fine, I'll find somebody else to train with."
In truth, Byron's body started aching two weeks ago. The constant sparring, weightlifting, running, and climbing had begun to take its toll on the boy's developing body, but it was through sheer will that he continued to train himself. Sometimes, he would bring members of the kingsguard with him to train, such as Jayce Dirk, to gauge how far he had come since that day he found himself helpless. Today was the first day Byron was able to come out victorious, and against the Duelist of Salto, nonetheless. 'I should feel proud,' he thought to himself, 'but I'm still nowhere close to being able to protect this city'.
Byron, still dripping with sweat, walked through the courtyard looking for a sparring partner. Unfortunately for him, however, everybody appeared to either be partnered up or busy already. Letting out a groan of annoyance, Byron sat down near the steps of the courtyard entrance, patiently watching the rest of the kingsguard train.
"You look like an airship that's just crashed, burned, and been engulfed by the sand. What in God's name happened to you?"
Byron looked behind him to see the handsome face of what he believed was the smallest man in the known world. Wearing the golden sash of the leviathan guild atop his neat uniform, a flintlock holstered at his side, Broker smiled gently at the visibly exhausted prince.
"About time," Byron smiled back, "Everyone else was starting to bore me."
"Are they boring you or are they just refusing to help you kill yourself?" Gar Sakev asked sarcastically, lugging with him a massive backpack, sword hilts sticking out of it.
Byron said nothing as Gar and Broker walked down the steps into the courtyard, the former throwing the pack to the ground in the center. The sound of the swords hitting the ground garnered the attention of the sparring kingsguard, rushing to line up in formation. Three rows of six, as was standard for their training with the Leviathan Guild.
"Two weeks ago," Gar's voice boomed, "I told you all to hone your swordcraft and form so that I wouldn't be disappointed with your performance today."
Gar walked through the rows as Broker watched patiently from the steps. If there was a flaw in their formation, Gar would make sure to catch it. If he missed anything, Broker's eyes would serve as a second opinion.
"When I walked into this courtyard today, I was expecting half-ass effort with a 'just get by' attitude. But I'm looking at all of you, and I can't find a single one of you that isn't drenched in sweat."
Byron could hear the collective sigh of relief from the guards.
"But you stink," Gar said, "You all stink like wet dogs. It's disgusting."
Broker chuckled to himself at Gar's berating. He was always known for his honesty.
"Today we're going to be discussing the single most important breakthrough humanity has ever found," Gar announced, "I'm going to tell you all about manasteel swords, and why you're using them wrong."
Gar Sakev lifted the pack off the ground upside down, shaking it so every weapon fell out of it onto the pavement.
"Everybody grab one."
The kingsguard fell out of line to collect a sword of their own. Every kingsguard member was assigned a manasteel sword at the time of their joining, crafted specially for them by the castle smiths. To Byron, these manasteel swords were no different from regular steel, just with a fancier sounding name so smiths can charge more for them. It wasn't until Ulrich mentioned their use in a fight that day that he took an interest in the variant swords. In truth, Byron was looking forward to this lesson the most. He leaned forward in anticipation, watching Gar carefully, so as not to miss a beat.
"They say when magic was erased from the world, the gods granted us two things," Gar said, "The arcane, the eight protectors of our realm, and manasteel, a resource that empowers steel to resemble magic itself."
Gar Sakev reached over his shoulder and unsheathed his giant greatsword, glistening as the sunlight beamed down.
"I say that story's just a load of crap. Humans got lucky finding this resource, and when we found it, we did what humans have always done; exploit a valuable resource to further our own growth and development. There weren't any gods involved, just human intuition."
The guards remained unfazed as they filed back into their lines, swords drawn in the ready position. Gar continued walking through the lines again, carrying the giant piece of metal as if it were a paperweight.
"I see some of you holding a manasteel sword like it's a steel sword," Gar yelled out, "Listen closely – you will die faster than you can swing that sword if you hold it like a steel sword."
Byron cocked a brow. Ulrich used his sword as if it were a steel sword. Why was Gar Sakev saying that was the wrong way to use this sword?
"Manasteel will do what it feels most natural to do. If you fight against what it wants to do, you will die. If you hesitate for even a moment, you will die. The sword wants to protect its wielder, almost as if it were alive. If it can put all its effort into keeping you alive, you can deal with some discomfort until your enemy is dead."
The kingsguard began shifting stance. Some held the sword above their heads, some held it in reverse grip, some kept their same stance, and a few even held the sword as if it were a rapier, one-handed and side-facing.
"Oh, is the captain talking about manasteel?" A familiar voice asked as it approached. Byron turned around to see Luca looking in awe at the training lesson. Byron did not notice it before, but Luca looked quite appealing in his suspenders and worker pants. Luca's hair was tied back, clearly ready to join in on the lesson once he was allowed to. Until then, the boy took a seat next to Byron, giving him a half-smile that quickly faded away as he looked into his eyes.
"That he is, Luca," Broker chimed in, "You haven't missed much yet, nothing you don't know already anyhow."
Luca turned his attention away from Byron towards the kingsguard again, watching intently.
"The captain always has a way with words."
"Die scum!"
Gar Sakev swung his sword with all of his might at the closest guard, Rindo Sea, who blocked his first strike with his sword instantly. Rindo, in shock, his blue eyes widened in fear, looked down at his sword, then watched Gar nervously as he backed away.
"Notice how the sword wants to block for you. The less time you have to think about the strike coming your way, the less chance you have of screwing its job up."
Gar sheathed his greatsword over his back harness, walking to the staircase as he faced the group.
"Now, pick a partner and begin sparring with these manasteel swords. Your goal is to disarm your partner. Anybody that leaves a wound on their opponent will owe me personal training. Anybody that gets wounded will owe me double that."
The guardsmen immediately began to partner up as they dispersed throughout the courtyard. Before long, the clashing of steel echoed through the courtyard once again. Byron stood, smirking at the approaching Gar Sakev.
"Care to spar, oh legendary hero?"
"Not a chance, brat," Gar coldly replied, "You wouldn't learn a thing aside from humility."
"Brat?" Byron cocked a brow as he mocked, "Is that any way to speak to a prince?"
Gar took a seat on the steps as he watched the guards, "That's the way to speak to somebody who's getting a big head during my lesson. You can't even beat these amateurs; you wouldn't stand a chance against me."
"Who's the one with a big head now?"
"God, you're insufferable," Gar sighed, "Luca, pick out a weapon for yourself and his royal highness here. Take front center so we can watch."
Luca nodded as he ran out of the courtyard towards what Byron could only assume was their carriage. Byron began to stretch, preparing himself for the fight, as Gar stood, whispering in his ear.
"Take it easy on the kid, alright?"
"You want me to let him win? I didn't take you for the type," Byron said.
"Not in the fight, brat, I mean in general. The kid still blames himself for everything that happened that day."
Byron took on a confused look, "But he didn't do anything."
"Quite right, he did nothing," Gar emphasized, "He has some traits that give him an overwhelming sense of heroism and responsibility, and this was the first time he could do nothing."
Byron somehow looked more confused than before, "What are you talking about?"
Gar turned his head to Broker, who Byron caught shaking his head as he glared daggers at the hero.
"Just…" Gar said cautiously, "Just take it easy on him. We both know what happened that day wasn't his fault."
"You seem to care a great deal about him."
"If you knew the kid like I do, you would too."
Luca ran into the courtyard carrying two longswords, sheathed in their scabbards. He threw one to Byron, who caught it with his right hand. Byron unsheathed his blade, taking a close look at the magic-emulating weapon. The first thing Byron noticed was how light the blade felt in his hands. He could wield it in one hand and not be hindered in the slightest, it seemed. He swung it a few times to gauge its weight in its entirety.
"You found your form quickly, it seems," Broker said.
"My form?" Byron asked.
"Remember how the guards were changing stances when I told them to listen to the sword?" Gar asked, soliciting a nod from Byron, "That is their fighting form. The sword tunes your personality to your fighting form and forces you to fight in the way it thinks is best for you. It seems you've adopted a rudimentary form."
"Strange," Byron said, "No matter what I do, it feels incredibly light."
"Must…be…nice…" Luca said, straining as he lifted his sword.
"Luca here has been working with manasteel blades for quite some time and still has yet to find his fighting form, so these blades are unnaturally heavy for him," Broker said, "But don't worry, I think you'll find he makes for a quite formidable opponent."
Byron raised a brow. Was this truly meant to be his sparring partner?
"Alright, let's go," he sighed.
The two walked down the steps to the courtyard, in front of Broker and Gar. Byron assumed his stance, holding his sword in two hands to his right side. Luca strained to take his stance, holding it extended, closer to his area of mass. Once he was ready, Luca nodded to Byron, who rushed him instantly, covering the gap between the two in less than a second.
Byron, on the aggressive, swung his sword at the boy with ferocity. To his surprise, he was quite adept at blocking his strikes despite the weight of the blade visibly hindering him.
Byron swung to the left to disarm the blade. Luca pulled his weapon closer to him as he blocked. When the blades impacted, Luca let out a grunt.
'Is he pulling the blade closer to him so he can mitigate the impact?' Byron thought.
He swung to the right, blocked again by Luca who let out another grunt.
Byron, with no success of winning as of yet, pulled back briefly from the boy. He eyed Luca, who was still barely holding his weapon up. Was this truly a fair fight? Why did Broker seem so confident in this boy's abilities? What was worse, Byron thought, was that his own sword had seemingly gotten heavier out of thin air. Although not impossible to wield, the blade began to feel as if it had tripled in weight.
Then he saw it. The color of his sword. When he first admired it, it shone with the sharpened color of grey that all steel blades had. Now, however, his sword had turned into an obvious blue shade, almost as if it were glowing. 'I think it wants me to…' Byron swung at Luca from his distance away with his sword, an overheard swing with one hand.
What followed shocked Byron to his core.
A crescent of light, no, a crescent of energy blasted itself from the sword towards Luca, whose eyes quickly widened as he extended his blade to block it, reflecting the energy into a nearby wall. Upon impact, the attack left a small crater in the castle wall, bricks flying from the scene in all manner of shapes.
Luca looked over to the crater, then back to Byron, then to Gar and Broker.
"Captain, Commander, I think he figured it out!"
Byron looked at his sword in awe. What had just happened? Did he create a ranged attack from his sword? 'By the sound of things', he thought, 'they've known about this. Why have I never heard about this?'
"So this is the power of manasteel swords…" Byron said.
"When I said these swords try to resemble magic, I wasn't kidding," Gar grinned cheekily, "After a series of hits ended with an overhead slash, a longsword can unleash a powerful ranged attack."
"Incredible…"
"Is it my turn to show off, Captain?" Luca beamed eagerly.
"Be my guest."
"Alright, Byron, round two is about to start!"
Byron turned his attention to his sparring partner once more. Where he was once struggling to lift his sword, Luca now seemingly lifted the blade as if it were a feather. Holding the longsword extended again, Luca prepared to strike.
Byron assumed his stance.
He had no time to react as Luca appeared in front of him instantly, this time the aggressor. He swung with seemingly all of his might at Byron's sword, a massive strike that made him lose his grip on his sword, almost dropping it to the ground.
Had he been holding back?
Luca swung with no form or style. Wild strikes were the enemy to Byron in this fight, and all Byron could do was block until Luca eventually ran out of stamina.
Luca swung upwards at Byron's sword.
Byron was too slow to match the strike.
As Luca landed the hit on Byron's sword, Byron could feel almost a gust of wind blowing with his opponent's sword. Too slow to properly block it, Byron felt the weapon leave his hand, steel clattering to the ground.
"Looks like I win," Luca smirked.
'Strange,' Byron thought, 'He didn't use the ranged attack. Was he still holding back?'
"Alright, that's enough!" Gar Sakev boomed.
The sparring ceased instantly as the kingsguard stood at attention.
"Practice with your manasteel swords from now on. I don't want to see a single guard with a normal steel sword. If I catch any of you with one, I'll personally have it melted down into an engraving calling you the biggest idiot in Arcadia, and I'll parade it around the world on my carriage. I'll call it the wall of idiots."
"Truly, the voice of a generation," Byron mumbled.
"This concludes the training for today, but you sorry saps aren't lucky enough to get rid of me that easy," Gar continued.
"Myself and my squad in the Leviathan Guild have been requested by the king regent Maximillion Chulux to remain for an undisclosed period of time."
The guards and Byron took on a confused look. To request the Leviathan Guild to stay after the agreed upon time had elapsed was unprecedented in the ten years they have been training the garrison of Stormwynter.
"Lucky for you," Gar continued, "I'll be in a good mood since I'll be getting paid. Unlucky for you, we'll be spending much more time with one another until the business we need to take care of has settled."
The silence in the courtyard was deafening. Even Byron was unable to think of a quip to retort back with. All they could do was continue listening and watching Gar Sakev, but even he had seemingly ran out of things to say.
"If there are no questions," Gar finally broke the silence, "Return the swords to me and go about your day."
Finally, conversation started again as the kingsguard began speaking to one another as they turned in their loaned weapons. One after another, the guardsmen began walking their way out of the courtyard and dispersing throughout Castle Pathus until all that remained were Gar, Broker, Luca and Byron.
"Guess it's our turn now," Luca said.
The two turned in their weapons to the colossus of a man, who promptly passed them onto the seemingly tiny by comparison man. The two took their leave out of the courtyard towards the carriage to put the weapons away, Gar looking back to Luca before walking out of sight.
'It's just the two of us now,' Byron thought, 'Don't make this awkward, Byron.'
"Hey," Byron approached Luca, "I wanted to thank you. For saving me, I mean."
Luca's eyes visibly lit up at Byron's words, forcing back a smile.
"Y-yeah," he stumbled, "Yeah, it's no-it's no big deal," he paused for a moment, his excitement quelling, forming a frown. "I didn't really save you more than I just ran. If I had things my way, I would have done more."
"What do you mean?"
Luca allowed silence to fill the room for a moment, clearly lost in thought. Byron deduced after their first meeting that the boy had some kind of uniqueness to him, but whether it was experimental training from the guild or something else remained to be seen. Perhaps, he thought, this conversation would bring to light some shred of truth.
"If you were given an impossible task as a dying wish of a loved one, would you uphold it?"
Byron's eyes widened. Was this Luca's burden?
"Depends on the task, I suppose," he replied.
"To save others at the cost of yourself."
Byron's curiosity had gotten the better of him, as he was now stumped to respond. Certainly if circumstances were different, Byron thought, and he were poor like Luca, he would say that upholding the wish was the correct choice. But instead, he was Byron Phoenix, heir to the kingdom of Arcadia, and if he were to sacrifice himself to help others, he would be putting his entire kingdom in danger.
'But that's what father did, isn't it?'
Byron's thoughts drifted to his father, to the storm crown, and to the sacrifice of Derrick Phoenix to save Arcadia. Was what his father did the right thing?
"Sorry for asking," Luca chuckled nervously, "I shouldn't have to bother you with my burdens."
Byron snapped out of his thinking. He turned to Luca, still uncertain of what to say. What would he do? 'I may not have an answer,' Byron thought, 'But I know that this is the right thing to do.' Finally, he strengthened his resolve, clenching his fist as the memories of his father came rushing back to him.
"Keep doing what it is you do."
Luca looked to Byron's determined eyes.
"The world needs more heroes," Byron said with a smirk.
Luca was unable to control his smile at the prince's words. He nodded eagerly, "Thanks, Byron," as he smiled.
"Do you remember what it was that I told you?" Byron asked Luca, "When we were in that house, I told you I was going to kill the arcane that plagues this city."
"Yeah," Luca's smiled faded, "You did."
"I still mean everything I said," Byron took on a serious tone, the light in his eyes turning to fire, "I'm going to find the arcane, I'm going to find his accomplices, and I'm going to kill him."
Luca said nothing as he nervously listened, his happiness turning into concern.
"The way I see things, Luca," Byron said matter-of-factly, "I wouldn't have known about the arcane in this city without your help."
Luca's breathing hastened.
"So," Byron continued, "Since we started this journey together, I think it only makes sense we finish it together."
Byron could see the uncertainty in Luca's eyes. Or was that fear? Either way, Byron thought, he would need an ally in this fight. And Luca would make for the perfect companion on his quest for vengeance.
Byron held out his hand.
"Only you can help me, Luca. What do you say?"
Luca stared at his hand for a time, his eyes wide, body shaking in what even Byron could recognize as guilt. 'These are all of my cards on the table', he thought, 'I can't sweeten the pot any further.'
Luca finally closed his eyes, his shaking ceasing, as he opened his sky-blue eyes fueled by determination. All he had to do now was reach out, Byron deduced. To take his fate in his own hands.
Luca took Byron's hand.
"Yeah," Luca said, "We'll defeat him together."