Lucian's training yielded little success. Though he forced his body to memorize the flow of sorcery by repeatedly unleashing the Ash of War, once separated from the Zamor Curved Sword, the storms he conjured were pitiful shadows of the true spell. In battle, Elyssa could not possibly lend him her blade. That meant the Ice Storm was of no use for the coming struggle.
Still, Lucian did not despair. The storm of ice was only an adornment, never the foundation of his strength.
At dawn the following day, he was already fully armed, following Melina through the dim halls of the Roundtable Hold. He wore once more the garb of Godrick's Soldiers, face hidden by the hood of an Exile Knight. No one spared him a second glance. Good.
The sharp ring of hammer against metal echoed down the corridor—Smithing Master Hewg was already at his forge.
Lucian quickened his steps toward the smith's chamber. The heat of the furnace rolled out to meet him the moment he reached the door.
Hewg lifted his head from his work and eyed him. "You again, is it?"
Lucian nodded. "Yes. The one who asked you to restore the Banished Knight armor and the Zamor set."
At the sound of his voice, recognition dawned on Hewg. "Ah, that's right. I remember the voice. Too many masked folk here—always fear I'll hand the wrong gear to the wrong man."
His hammer never slowed, sparks dancing as he worked the blade of a straight sword. "Your sets are over there. Against the wall. Third and fourth racks. Covered with cloth."
Lucian glanced across the chamber. Racks lined the wall, most holding common armor. A few, draped in cloth, clearly belonged to special patrons. A courtesy, to protect privacy.
He did not take them immediately. Instead, he asked, "And the fee?"
"Five hundred for one, three hundred for the other. Drop the runes in the basket beside the racks."
Sure enough, a small wicker basket lay there, already clinking with fragments of rune. Lucian counted out the price and placed it inside, then lifted the cloth from the armor.
The Banished Knight set gleamed beneath, the wounds of battle seamlessly mended. The gash Elyssa's blade had once carved through the cuirass was now whole—so cleanly repaired that only the closest inspection would reveal the scar.
Hewg's craft left nothing to be desired.
Lucian's hands itched to don the armor at once. Hewg, hearing no sound of departure, smirked knowingly. "If you can't wait, close the door and put it on here. Nothing that happens in this room leaves it."
But Lucian shook his head. This was Gideons' domain. If the All-Knowing could not keep watch even within the Roundtable Hold, he would hardly deserve the name.
He bundled the armor and left.
—
At the grace within the Hold, he finally dressed himself in the familiar weight of the Banished Knight set. Relief washed through him—the feeling of power restored, of battle-readiness returned.
Melina approached, brushing her fingers over the cuirass' side where once a great wound had yawned. "Here. The place her blade pierced you. Now gone."
Lucian knocked his gauntlet against the chestplate. The crisp ring told him the repairs were sound. This was no hollow patchwork. He was whole again.
With armor reforged, his strength stood once more at its peak. Weak blows could be shrugged aside, and even mighty strikes would find their fury dulled.
"Any other matters left undone?"Melina asked softly. "If not, we should return. You said we came only to reclaim your armor. Godrick will not wait forever."
Lucian considered. Her words stirred a memory. Last time here, he had meant to browse the merchants' wares—yet had been summoned by the Two Fingers before he could.
"One more thing," he said. "Let me look for tools I might put to use."
Melina inclined her head and settled onto the great table, waiting.
Lucian strode toward the market halls of the Hold. But once again, he was intercepted.
The one who barred his way was Ensha.
The knight's armor was grotesque—a fusion of brittle, yellowed bones and molten gold, as if he clad himself in the remains of kin. Most dreadful of all was the skull-helm, tufts of rotting hair clinging to its crown.
Ensha said nothing. He merely lowered his head, stepped aside, and with one gauntleted hand gestured toward a sealed door.
Lucian followed the motion. The chamber of the All-Knowing. Sir Gideon Ofnir himself.
So. The sage had summoned him.
Why now? Lucian had never shown his face within these halls, nor acted in ways that might draw suspicion. Did Gideon know of the Two Fingers' summons? Could even their movements not escape his sight?
Or perhaps… was this an ambush? One word from Gideon, and Lucian could be struck down. The Roundtable was bound by its own laws against violence, but Gideon was its master. Who would punish him?
Yet Lucian knew better. The All-Knowing was not so base. Whatever his intent, it was more than mere treachery.
And Lucian himself had no cause for fear. With Wind Spirit Mood Shadow at his side, even were the Black Knife Assassins loosed upon him, he would not falter.
So he followed Ensha.
The door creaked open, and for the first time Lucian beheld the figure of the All-Knowing—Sir Gideon Ofnir, master of the Roundtable Hold.
—
[T/N: 2 of 2 Bonus/Extra Chapter for your Powerstones. Thank you!]