Lucan stumbled into the clearing where the rest of his group had gathered, the boy he'd saved now slung over his shoulder, unconscious but breathing. The girl bruised but on her feet followed close behind him.
Cassian turned, eyes widening. "Lucan?!"
Lucan dropped the boy gently and exhaled. "He's alive. Although he will need some care."
Sev moved to help steady the girl as the others stared in disbelief. No one had expected them to return like this.
"What happened?" Cassian asked sharply.
Sev answered, "Maric robbed and left them to die, he stabbed the boy even after he gave his relic up. Then an ogre came along and Lucan stepped in, and insisted on carrying the lad back."
Cassian swore and began pacing in the dirt. "I said no heroics, damn it."
A voice echoed from above, loud and calm.
"Five minutes remaining."
They all looked up. The announcer's voice came from some sort of magic, one of the examiners, watching from the skies above the forest.
Another student from the group said grimly, "We've only got four relics among us"
"I have one," Sev said.
"We're still three short then, for Lucan and the two Drakenheim kids." The other student said.
Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering curses under his breath.
On the examiner's platform, a few robed men huddled in debate.
"That boy's going to fail," one scoffed, gesturing to Lucan's display on the projection.
"He has no relic. No matter how noble the act, rules are rules."
Another sighed. "He shouldn't fail for doing the right thing."
"And yet he will," the first said flatly. "Compassion doesn't outweigh results in the academy."
Lyra heard the murmurs before the commotion on the stands. Her gaze shifted from the magic projection showing Lucan's fight to the stands around her, people had started pointing, whispering.
Then a voice boomed like a drum.
"Who is that boy?"
She turned. A towering man with broad shoulders and golden hair stood tall, his presence cutting through the chatter. He was built like a fortress.
"Lucan," she said instinctively.
"You know him?" The man turned his head toward her, "Lucan who?"
"Lucan... ward of Caedric Emberlily."
A wide grin split his face. "Of course. That explains it. He must've been trained by him."
Lyra blinked, confused. But as she looked him over, her eyes caught something strange. His right hand, it was metal. A beautifully crafted hand of steel.
It clicked. Her breath caught. "Your Lance the Steelhand."
The man gave her a brief side glance, still watching the projection.
A noble nearby muttered, "That boy's going to fail. He has no relic."
Steelhand's grin faded. His voice dropped low. "I never did return the favor, Rose of Death."
Then, before anyone could stop him, he vaulted the railing and plummeted toward the forest below. The crowd erupted into chaos.
"That man just jumped!" One yelped.
"His hand... that was Sir Morwin!" Another quivered.
Cassian was pacing harder now. "We don't have time to hunt for more. Our only chance is to sweep the immediate area and hope something's still left."
He glanced at Lucan. "You're an odd one, you know that? I should've expected it, given your circumstances."
After some time the final call came.
"One minute remaining."
Lucan's heart sank. There were no relics left. He was going to fail, for helping strangers. The boy and girl kept thanking him, apologizing, but it didn't matter.
He tried to brush it off. "Guys… it's alright. I'll—"
But his voice caught. He couldn't say it was alright, because it wasn't. He wanted this so badly.
His thoughts drifted back to his old life. He remembered losing in the finals of that tournament, that emptiness after. All of his effort gone to waste. There, he was consumed by winning, by pride.
But here… here, he had chosen to do what was right.
He clenched his jaw. He'd do it again.
Then the wind kicked up.
Leaves swirled. Dust spun across the ground.
Someone was coming.
Cassian was the first to notice. His voice dropped to a whisper. "...Lance?"
Lucan looked up.
A man appeared in the clearing like a war god out of legend. Tall, golden-haired, and unmistakable. His right hand glinted in the light.
He didn't walk so much as command the ground beneath his steps. Every motion was full of devastating force. The air seemed to tighten around him, even the monsters had gone silent.
Lance the Steelhand.
He stopped before Lucan, looking him up and down.
"Hmph. I wonder what you looked like before Thorne got his hands on you. You've got his mark all over you."
Lucan blinked, confused. "...You know Thorne?"
Lance raised the metal hand. "Yeah. He gave me this."
Thorne was the one to take his hand?Is he here for vengeance? Lucan hovered his hand over his sheathed sword.
Lance chuckled. "You ready for a fight, boy?"
Lucan narrowed his eyes. "Cassian, get them out of here."
"Hold." Lance raised a hand. "I'm not here to fight, fool. If I wanted you dead, your blade wouldn't have seen the light before it hit the dirt."
Before Lucan could reply, Lance moved.
A blur faster than a man of his size had any right to be. A sudden lunge, like a striking hawk, his steel hand arcing straight for Lucan's chest.
Lucan saw it. His hand flew to his sword, drawing it in a smooth flash of steel, angling the edge to intercept the blow.
But it was too late.
CLANG.
The sound rang like a bell through the clearing. Lance's metal hand had caught Lucan's blade mid-swing. No wound, no blood, just a sudden and complete stop. Sparks jumped from the contact point. Lucan's sword trembled in his grip.
Lance grinned, satisfied.
"Thorne taught you well," he said, releasing the blade. "But you will be a completely different fighter than he was."
Lucan's heart pounded, his breath short. That hadn't been an attack, it had been a test. A warning dressed like a lesson.
Lance reached into his coat and drew out a glowing green chunk of crystal. A relic.
He tossed it to Lucan.
Lucan stared at it, stunned. "...Why?"
Lance grinned. "Because the gods would be cruel to keep you out of the academy."
The examiners shouted over one another.
"Why is Lance the Steelhand in the forest?!"
"He gave that boy a relic!"
"He can't interfere with the trial!"
"Look, if Lance the Steelhand thinks the boy belongs here… who are we to argue? You want to be the one to tell him no?"
"...No."
"Let it stand."
After a tense pause, the lead examiner growled. "...Fine. It counts."
That marked the end of the first trial.