In a small, nondescript shed, Lucien sat beside his grandfather, concern etched deeply into his features. "Why are we in this dirty shed? We should be heading to a hospital right away," he urged, his voice tinged with worry.
Heinrich, lying on the bed, weak but resolute, turned his gaze towards Lucien. "As bizarre as quirks can go, I don't believe there's a power that can negate reality, and sure as hell, we ain't finding one in a damn hospital," he rasped, his voice betraying the weight of his condition.
Lucien frowned, struggling to comprehend his grandfather's decision. "But Gramps, staying here won't help you get better. We need to find proper medical care," he insisted, his tone pleading.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Heinrich's lips, despite the pain etched across his face. "I'll just spend my days here in this shed," he replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "This was the place where my father bestowed upon me Starvol. It holds memories, familiar and comforting. I like it."
Lucien sighed, torn between honouring his grandfather's wishes and acknowledging the urgency of the situation. "Very well, Grandfather," he acquiesced, his voice laced with reluctant acceptance. "I will respect your decision. Time is not on our side, so I must depart for Zenthia as soon as possible."
With a flicker of emotion in his eyes, Lucien turned to face Heinrich. "But promise me," he implored, his voice trembling with unspoken concern, "promise me you'll be stronger when I return."
As Lucien rose from his seat, a veil of false composure masked the turmoil churning within him. He took a hesitant step towards the door, his back turned to Heinrich, concealing the raw emotions threatening to overflow.
Before stepping out into the night, Lucien paused, his hand resting on the doorknob. "There's some food by the window," he murmured softly, a gesture of care amidst the looming uncertainty.
Heinrich's voice, though weakened, carried a solemn resolve. "And once again," he intoned, his words imbued with a quiet strength, "I will pray for fate to be on your side, my boy."
As Lucien prepared to depart for Zenthia under the cover of night, a sense of urgency propelled him forward. But before he could embark on his journey, there was one person he needed to inform: his younger brother, Alex.
Finding Alex wasn't difficult; the two brothers shared a close bond, and Alex trusted Lucien implicitly. Lucien approached him with a solemn expression, conveying the gravity of the situation. "Alex, I have something urgent to attend to," he explained, his voice laced with determination. "I'll be back as soon as possible."
Alex, though concerned, nodded in understanding. He had always admired his older brother's courage and resolve. "I trust you, big brother," he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of worry and confidence.
Lucien then imparted one final instruction to Alex, knowing that his absence might raise questions among their peers. "If any of the squad members inquire about my whereabouts, tell them I'm occupied," he instructed, his tone firm. "They never paid much attention to us anyway."
With that, Lucien made his way towards the gates of Eldoria, his footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the night. However, his departure did not go unnoticed.
Just as Lucien approached the gate, he spotted Draven, one of the squad members, gazing up at the sky. Draven's presence caught Lucien's attention, and he couldn't help but engage in a brief exchange.
"Where are you off to so late at night, Sir Lucien?" Draven inquired, his tone curious but respectful.
Maintaining his composure, Lucien offered a plausible explanation. "I've been struggling to sleep," he replied calmly. "I thought I'd take a walk to clear my mind until exhaustion takes over. And what about you, Draven? Why are you up at this hour?"
Draven's response hinted at imminent departure, his words carrying a sense of anticipation. "I'm expecting to leave soon with Captain Cassius," he revealed. "I was merely passing the time by gazing at the stars until my transportation arrives."
Acknowledging Draven's explanation, Lucien bid him farewell with a courteous nod. "Very well then, Draven. Safe travels," he wished, before continuing on his journey, leaving Draven to his contemplation under the moonlit sky.
As soon as Lucien's figure vanished from Draven's sight, he unleashed a burst of speed, racing towards his destination with unbridled determination. He paid little heed to the obstacles in his path, colliding with objects and people alike as he sprinted forward with single-minded focus. Each stride propelled him closer to his goal, fueled by urgency and resolve.
With nimble agility, Lucien navigated the bustling streets until he arrived at his intended destination: a station marked by a sign bearing the name "Evertrain." Without hesitation, he darted inside, narrowly catching the departing train bound for Zenthia.
Breathless and adrenaline-fueled, Lucien found a seat on the train, his heart pounding with anticipation as the landscape outside blurred into a rapid succession of motion. For the next five hours, he remained onboard, the rhythmic clatter of the train's wheels serving as a backdrop to his racing thoughts.
As the train traversed the distance, Lucien's anticipation grew, each passing moment bringing him closer to his motherland, Zenthia. With every mile traveled, the weight of responsibility pressed upon him, driving him forward with unwavering determination.
As Lucien stirred from his slumber, the mechanical voice of the train announced, "We have arrived at Zenthia," its message echoing through the carriage. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Lucien blinked away the remnants of his dreams and gathered his belongings before stepping off the train.
Zenthia greeted him with its familiar sights and sounds, a landscape etched with memories both bitter and sweet. Yet, despite the comfort of returning to his homeland, Lucien knew he must remain unseen by its people, for he still bore the weight of royalty upon his shoulders.
With practiced stealth, Lucien maneuvered through the bustling streets, deftly avoiding curious glances and prying eyes. His steps were swift yet deliberate as he made his way towards the mansion that once stood as a symbol of his family's power and influence.
The mansion loomed in the distance, its imposing facade a stark reminder of the challenges that awaited him within its walls. It was here that he and his father were destined to confront each other, to clash in a battle of wills and ideologies that would shape the fate of Zenthia itself.
.