Lucien walked through the quiet streets of Lyon, his steps steady, his eyes tracing the scars left by the Breakout.The city was still healing but shops had reopened, workers repaired broken walls, and people laughed again despite the memories that lingered in the air.
He smiled faintly. Life goes on, he thought, and continued toward the station.
At the ticket counter, the clerk looked up."Destination?"
Lucien pulled out his Hunter ID and placed it on the counter. "Marseille."
The clerk nodded, typing quickly before handing him a ticket. Hunters didn't pay for public transport, it was a small privilege in a world constantly teetering on the edge of chaos.
He boarded the train, found a seat by the window, and watched as the city he had briefly called home began to slide away behind him."Goodbye, Lyon," he murmured, the reflection of the sun cutting across the glass.
Meanwhile, back at the Beaumont Manor…
On Mira's desk rested a small box and a sealed letter, the last traces of Lucien de Mireval.For over an hour, she simply stared at them, her fingers motionless, her expression unreadable.
Finally, she exhaled and broke the seal. The paper was neat, the handwriting elegant yet firm.
Dame Mira,
I write this letter because seeing hatred in your eyes shatters my heart.I understand your anger and your need for vengeance.
I do not know why the men who slaughtered your family bore the cross of the Templars of Jerusalem.I have no answers to offer you.And that is why I could not face you to say goodbye.
I leave now to continue my mission which is to seek the truth behind the blood and the symbols.I hope that, someday, I will be able to stand before you again… without this weight of guilt between us.
Sincerely yours,Lucien de MirevalThe Last of the Templars
Mira lowered the letter slowly, her eyes lingering on the signature.For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the clock.
Outside, the wind stirred the trees in the manor's garden in the same place where, only a few hours before, Lucien had said his farewells.
She closed her eyes, whispering under her breath,"Goodbye… Lucien."
Mr. Roger knocked gently on the office door."Lady Mira? Are you all right?"
Without looking up, she answered, "Why wouldn't I be?"
Roger smiled faintly at her tone. His gaze drifted across the desk directing to the small box that still sat unopened beside the now-folded letter."You haven't opened it yet," he said softly.
"I was busy," Mira replied, her voice clipped.
Roger tilted his head. "Or perhaps… it's a little too difficult?"
She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Tch. Difficult? Hardly."She reached for the box abruptly. "There. Happy now?"
With a small, defiant motion, she lifted the lid.But when her eyes fell on what lay inside, her expression froze.
A few hours earlier... in the manor's forge.
Lucien stood before the roaring flames, sweat tracing the scars on his arms.He took the last piece of metal from the shattered Orc Chief's axe and laid it on the anvil.
This time, he wasn't forging a weapon.He wanted to forge something meaningful.
The hammer rose and fell... clang, clang, clang... sparks blooming like fireflies around him.When the shape was done, he plunged the glowing metal into the quenching bath. Steam hissed and filled the room, curling around him like a veil.
Lucien pulled the pendant from the water, droplets running down its silver surface.He had never forged something so pure not in power, but in intent. This wasn't about strength; it was about duty.
He lifted it to the light and activated [Appraisal].
[Item: Guardian Pendant][Rarity: Unique (A-Class)][Special Attribute: Latent Protection (Passive)]
A faint smile crossed his lips.He'd done it. His ancestral vow, to protect Mira, had taken form.
Hours passed as he engraved the Beaumont family crest into the pendant: the Silver Lion, proud and crowned.But where the traditional emblem bore crimson, the color of sacrifice, Lucien left the metal untouched, silver and cold, like moonlight on steel.
"May this lion watch over you, Lady Mira," he murmured."I can't protect you myself… but this, at least, can."
Back in the present, inside the manor.
Roger leaned closer, studying the pendant glinting in Mira's hand."It's a beautiful piece," he said quietly. "The crest of House Beaumont… perfectly done."
When he looked up again, Mira was no longer facing him.She stood by the window, her back turned, one hand clenched tightly around the pendant with its silver edge catching the light between her fingers.
Outside, the wind whispered through the garden trees.And for a brief moment, the Lion of Silver seemed to gleam brighter as if answering a silent vow.