Lucien was glad he had died.
The world after his return had changed in a way that favored him.
He had come back into a strange blind spot.
Outside, the greater world still had not remembered him. Oblivion's distortion remained active across the Big World.
Alanthuriel had not returned yet either, which meant whatever answer existed to that wound still lay somewhere beyond Lucien's reach.
For now, that suited him.
If the world did not remember him properly, then the world would not watch him properly either.
He could build.
He could strengthen Lootwell.
He could sharpen his people, his forces, his structure, and himself without hostile eyes measuring his movements and preparing their knives around them.
Lucien leaned back slightly in his seat and let the thought settle.
If he stayed quiet long enough, then when the world finally noticed him again, it would discover that it had already become too late.
His curiosity drifted briefly toward Alanthuriel.
