He stood in front of a large mansion where a name was etched into one of the entrance stones outside the garden that led to a residential place.
'House of Fenshore,' he read mentally, lazily registering something in his mind.
"I can't believe I'm doing this."
He rang the bell. It chimed loud and clear, echoing through the gardens.
Suddenly, the door of the residential place opened. An older woman, a maid perhaps, walked down the stairs and glared at Lucid. She gave him a look of pure disdain, as if he were something stuck to her shoe.
"Uhm, hello!"
"What do you want?" It was abrupt. She did not even introduce herself nor ask for his name.
"Uh, Lucid. I was wondering if I could meet—"
"Absolutely not!" She cut him off.
"Eh?"
'This old hag!' he yelled internally.
As she kept on bickering, throwing insults about how he looked like an Unfaithful wrapped in human skin, a figure emerged from the dark depths of the doorway.
It was a blonde boy. He did not wear his school uniform. He had no black badge pinned to his chest.
It was that bully who picked on Mary. The one who uttered half-veiled threats before the mass clearance of the Epsilon rift.
"You may go inside now. I shall handle this matter," the boy said to the maid.
The maid retreated back into the mansion. The figure approached Lucid. The way they walked seemed as if they had been sulking all day long, carrying a massive weight on their shoulders.
Lucid knew who it was.
'Alaric.'
As the figure looked up with drowsy eyes, eye bags, and skin pale as ash, their hair frizzy as if they had not slept for days, they met Lucid's gaze.
"Lucid, is it? What may I do for you?"
Lucid looked at him, observing his state. He did not hesitate to beat around the bush, as he did not want to waste both of their time.
"Is there a blueprint anywhere inside your possession? If so, I was wondering if you could give it to me."
"That is not possible."
"Please. I will pay."
"I believe I made myself clear."
Their eyes were not visible beneath the shadow of their brow. They looked up for a brief second with tired, dead blue eyes.
"That is because the blueprint had been used to build the prototype for the carriage. I can take you to it."
His voice was devoid of the snarky, rude behavior. The fury he had once carried. All of it was gone, replaced by something hollow.
Lucid paid him no further words as Alaric exited the gates and walked toward the west, where a massive storage room could be seen.
They walked in silence.
Lucid wanted to ask a lot, but at the same time, he did not want to poke any holes in whatever fragile peace Alaric had found.
"My brother is dead," Alaric said suddenly.
"I suppose it is your doing."
"No, not at all!"
"Oh. Really? Okay then."
Alaric's voice was flat. Matter of fact.
"You see, I never liked Miguel. But yet, at the same time, someone who shares the same blood as you, as family..." He trailed off. "I apologize for making your life at the academy difficult."
Lucid spoke carefully. "Those are not the words I wish to hear right now."
"If you truly feel guilty, then I can end you right now," Alaric said, stopping in front of the storage room. His voice was devoid of threat. Just stating a fact.
Alaric looked at him and made their way to a big covered thing. After they opened the large doors into some kind of storage chamber, he uncovered it.
Lucid saw a huge gleaming train. What shaped to be a normal train. A bullet train that seemed to have been recently built. It gathered little bits of dust, but otherwise looked pristine.
Alaric spoke, his voice dry. "The Starlight train track. It can go at high speed, requires little fuel, and the most disorienting part is that it can control its own itinerary, meaning it does not rely on the golden pathways nor the astral transit system. The user is free to go where they wish to see."
"Why are you telling me all this?" Lucid stopped, looking at Alaric with suspicion.
"I do not know. Ever since that day, I have not felt like myself."
Lucid entered the train. The interior was rather bigger than it seemed. There seemed to be a large living room of couches, a fireplace, a table that also seemed to have passenger seats. Then a kitchen in the back. He walked toward the end where every space seemed to have its own door. It seemed bigger on the inside than outside. He descended down stairs where he saw a bathroom and a laundry mat, where the engine was just across the other chamber.
It was breathtaking, really. Cool to see.
As he exited the place, Alaric threw him the keys. Lucid caught them, surprised.
"Consider it a thank you."
"For what?"
"For breaking my entire self-esteem."
Lucid chuckled. Alaric walked past him, voice flat. "You can rent it or sell it. I do not care. It is yours now. You can take it whenever you please and take it for a ride."
"Well, see you."
Lucid looked at the keys in his hand and gripped them tight.
"Heheheh," he laughed quietly to himself.
'Who knew all I had to do was ask.'
'What the hell happened to this guy to make him like this?'
As he pocketed the keys, Lucid made his way away from the residential place.
***
As Lucid walked around Vex he made his way to a training ground next to the palace. He had once again sneaked himself into the royal district. He found him near the training grounds, sword in hand but not swinging it. Just holding it. Staring at the blade like it held answers.
Fredrick was not depressed, but he did not have his usual spark. The kindness in his eyes had dimmed. The easy smile was gone.
He looked up as Lucid approached. Recognition flickered across his face.
"Partner," he muttered in a low tone.
The word hung between them. Heavy. Wrong somehow.
Lucid wanted to tell him that it was not his fault. That she had orchestrated everything. That Fredrick had been played just like everyone else. But the words stuck in his throat.
Fredrick sheathed his sword. Took a breath. He hesitated but spoke.
"Lucid, I wanted to tell you something. My name is actually not Fredrick."
Lucid replied without hesitation. "Yes, I know. Arthur, right?"
Fredrick looked at him, surprise momentarily breaking through the hollow expression. His eyes widened. His mouth opened slightly.
"How did you—"
"Does it matter?" Lucid shrugged. "Who is who and which is which? They are both you, aren't they?"
Fredrick smiled. Perhaps for the first time in ages, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. Small, but real.
"Yes. I suppose so. But did I tell you of my origins?" He paused, his voice sounding shallow now. "I used to be a ruthless paladin from Materna. I have killed lots of people. Until I saw the truth. I was used and I caused harm to people that did not deserve it."
When he spoke next, he sounded depressive, as if he had never protected anyone. As if everything he had done meant nothing.
"I was on duty when it happened. I should have known. I should have seen through their plans. I should have acted quicker. Thanks to you and only thanks to you... she is alive. My friend."
Lucid sighed. "We all played our part. What is important now is..."
He hesitated, then asked again. "Which do you truly feel like being? But know this. Whatever name you choose, whatever behavior you wear, you will still have to live with yourself. You cannot escape that. I have seen what happens to someone who tries."
Fredrick fell silent, deep in thought. He looked at Lucid with steady, determined eyes, though sadness lingered behind them and exhaustion was carved into every line of his face.
"I am Arthur." He nodded, more to himself than to Lucid. "Arthur Alexander."
He extended his hand. "Thank you once again for helping me, my friend. Though our meetings were abrupt, I shall forever treasure this moment."
Lucid took his hand. They shook. Firm. Brief.
'Someone integral,' Lucid thought to himself. 'Someone so strong and unwavering, broken at the hands of a wicked princess.'
He thought about her then. About Elara. About all the noblemen she had purged. About the rumors that swirled around her name.
'Can she really be evil though? She purged almost all of the corrupt noblemen. But does that justify the cost?'
They walked together through the training grounds. Past dummies with straw guts spilling out. Past racks of practice weapons gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Lucid mostly carried the conversation. Playful banter to fill the silence. Jokes that landed weakly but were appreciated nonetheless.
Arthur said that the ceremony was close. That the princess would soon make an appearance tomorrow for a speech.
"But there is one thing I did and I will never forgive myself for."
"What?"
He stopped and looked at his hands, evaluating them as if they were covered in blood. "I killed someone in that rift. Perhaps even Miguel. I am returning back to my old roots. I can almost feel it."
Lucid looked down out of shame. Who was he to offer him advice on this matter? If Arthur had killed one person, he was practically the most guilty one alive outside that rift. The people he had killed were too many to count on a single hand.
He only listened. He let him talk. But he stayed silent. Because it was not a matter he could discuss.
He was guilty.
As they reached the gate, Lucid waved goodbye.
Arthur called out toward him. "Will you perhaps join me on the day of the ceremony?"
Lucid nodded and waved his back hand as he walked, faced with his back toward Arthur.
"Maybe if you don't look so much like a depressive guy. Then yeah, sure!"