"We'll take our leave now, Monsieur Neuvillette," Lucien said.
"Indeed. There is much to accomplish in so little time," Neuvillette said calmly. "As for what we discussed—remain vigilant. If your theory holds true, then it is possible the bait has already been taken."
Clorinde raised an eyebrow, but Lucien gave her a quick glance that silently promised to explain later.
"Yes, of course," he said.
With that, they turned and exited, the doors closing softly behind them.
Lucien let out a loud sigh, exhausted as the long day finally drew to a close.
"Man… who knew this job would be so tiring?" he muttered, glancing up at his sister, who was expecting answers.
"What did Neuvillette mean by 'bait?"
Lucien looked around—seeing that the hallway was mostly empty—then leaned in and gave her the short version.
"There's a chance the attack on Lady Furina was just a distraction. A bait. But… it's just a theory."
Clorinde considered his words carefully, her expression thoughtful.
"Well, when you put it like that… something strange did happen earlier."
Lucien's eyes widened. "What happened?"
"Before news of the attack reached us, I was patrolling near the Hotel Debord. Everything seemed normal at first… but then I felt a powerful presence, just for a moment." She paused, her eyes narrowing at the memory. "I looked around, and there he was. A man sitting outside, calmly drinking coffee.
Lucien's expression tightened with curiosity and concern.
"It was like he tensed up," Clorinde added. "Just for a second—but I could tell. That person wasn't ordinary."
"But not long after, the news reached us—and of course, duty came first, so I shrugged it off," Clorinde said.
Lucien frowned. Could it be a coincidence?
Most likely not. If the Fatui are involved, then they've got a major plan in motion. Whoever that man was, he didn't look like someone who'd throw himself into the middle of their schemes. Best to play it safe and stay away.
"What are you thinking?" Clorinde asked, watching him closely. "Do you think he's the one we're looking for?"
If Clorinde sensed a powerful presence, it was better not to rush in not knowing the dangers that could lie
"There's no solid evidence yet," Lucien said, shaking his head. "For now, the best we can do is watch over Lady Furina—and keep our eyes open for anything strange."
Clorinde rested a hand on her hip. "Don't forget, you're guarding her too. I'll stay with her tonight, but once the court resumes, I'll be occupied with duties."
Lucien gave a confident grin. "Don't worry. I'll make sure she's safe. Just don't forget who the better fighter is."
"Me," Clorinde said flatly.
He crossed his arms, smirking. "Sure… let's go with that."
"There you two are!" Callas's voice rang out as he approached.
Lucien and Clorinde turned toward him.
"Word travels fast—congratulations are in order," he said with a grin.
How the hell did he already know we were promoted? Lucien thought. Never mind that.
"Yes, you're right," Lucien replied. "I've been promoted to sergeant, and my sweet little sister here is now the Champion Duelist."
Clorinde shot him a sharp glare.
"At fifteen, no less," Callas added, chuckling. "Your master would be proud."
"Thank you for your kind words, Mr. Casper," Clorinde said, placing a hand over her chest.
"Please, child," Callas chuckled, resting a hand on her head. "I've told you—just call me Callas."
"Callas, thank you for your help earlier. That guy would've gotten away if you hadn't stepped in," Lucien said.
"Simply doing what any kind-hearted citizen ought to," he chuckled. "Now then, we should celebrate. With Spina di Rosula having completed its aid efforts, we can return to my residence. I believe my little prin—ahem—my dear Navia would be delighted to see you both."
Clorinde let out a soft sigh. "I would like to, Mr.—I mean, Callas—but I've been assigned to protect Lady Furina, and I can't abandon my duty. Still, I'm certain Lucien would be happy to go."
"Yes, I would be happ… wait, what?" Lucien snapped, caught off guard.
"I see… that is of great importance," Callas said thoughtfully. After a brief pause, he turned to Lucien with a gentle glance. "Come, Lucien. I'm certain Navia would be glad to see you."
Callas placed a firm hand on Lucien's shoulder, and with that, they set off.
Lucien stole a glance at Clorinde and could've sworn he saw a smug grin written all over her face.
Walking outside the doors of the Palais Mermonia, the sun was slowly setting on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city.
"Lucien, I need to tell you something…" Callas said, his tone unusually serious as they walked toward the railing, leaning against it and gazing out at the distant sky.
Lucien frowned. "That tone… doesn't make it sound like good news."
"There are many things at play—truths about the justice system that are not as they appear. Callas let out a sigh then continued "But that is not the reason I brought you here."
"I hadn't intended to tell anyone this… but if there's someone I'd trust to watch over my daughter after I'm gone, it would be you, Lucien."
"What are you—"
Callas placed a hand on Lucien's shoulder, steady and sincere. "I've been diagnosed with a rare illness. It's terminal."
The news shook him to his very core.
harsh reminder that everyone he held dear would one day perish—and so would he.
And for Callas was more than just a good man—he was a father figure, someone he deeply cared for.
"Doe… Does Navia know?"
"No, she doesn't," Callas said quietly. "And I don't want you to tell her."
Lucien hesitated, then nodded slowly. "I do… but why?"
"As her father, I do not wish for her to worry about me," Callas replied softly. "After all, I do not intend for her to watch me wither and die," he whispered the last part so quietly that Lucien barely caught it.
"How much time do you still have?" Lucien asked, his voice filled with concern.
"I still have five to six years left—I'm not going anywhere just yet." He laughed softly, as if death were no cause for fear.
As his laughter faded into a lingering silence, they stood together for a moment, gazing up at the stars above before he spoke again.
"Lucien, you promised me once that after I'm gone, you would watch over my little girl."
"I will, Callas. That is a promise."
"Atta boy," Callas said, giving Lucien a hearty pat on the back.
"You have my wholehearted blessing," he grinned. "Now, let's head to my home—my sweet Navia is probably wondering where her old man is."
Blessing…
For what?
Shaking the thought away, Lucien followed closely behind him.
"Come now, kid," Callas said gently, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Just a few more years, and we'll finally share that first beer I promised you."
Yeah…
Lucien cast a quiet glance at Callas. Even with death looming ahead, the man still found a way to smile.
I'll keep that promise, Callas. I'll protect your daughter—and I'll carry your secret, even if she ends up hating me for it one day.
————-
inside the Hotel Debord, Sat a man of striking presence. His amber-green eyes shimmered beneath the lights, his hair swept back in a luxurious style. Clad in a sharp black suit, a green tie mirroring the color of his eyes, he looked every bit the distinguished gentleman.
But beneath that polished exterior was no ordinary man.
walking for thousands of years, bearing a power no mortal mind could grasp.
He was the ruler of chaos.
Across from him stood his butler—his familiar companion—who had accompanied him on this return to Fontaine, a land steeped in memories and haunted by the shadow of the late Archon, Egeria.
"My lord, if I may speak frankly," the butler said, his tone measured.
"You may," came the calm reply.
"The individuals behind the attack… they clearly meant to provoke you. Why did you not act? If any harm had come to the Archon, would that not have warranted intervention?"
"There are forces at play, Alfred—matters I have not shared with you," he answered, his gaze distant. "I made a promise long ago to an old friend… a promise to look the other way."
"Well, my lord, I won't pry further," the butler said with a respectful bow of the head. "But if I may ask—what was the reason for our return?"
A faint smile played on the man's lips. "Ah, you see… a little bird whispered to me of a matter concerning a soul—and that piqued my interest."
Just then, the waiter approached with practiced grace. "Monsieur Nelson, the finest dish in all of Fontaine," he announced, placing the meal before him with care before quietly taking his leave.