Chương 88: Chapter 87- Ambiguous Motives

Lucid made his way toward his residential place, his feet dragging slightly after the long day. Mary looked at him with a questioning expression, her broken glasses sliding down her nose as she tilted her head.

"You're going... that way?" she asked, pointing in the direction Lucid was heading.

"Yeah. Why?" Mary's eyes flicked to his chest, where his silver badge was pinned. Then back to his face. Then to the path he was taking. The path that led directly to the upper district. The noble district.

"Nothing," she said slowly.

"It's just... that's the upper residential area. For the—""I know where I'm going," Lucid said. He waved goodbye to Mary, Brian, and Garfield, who had somehow decided to tag along with them after class. Garfield was still going on about team names and artistic visions while Brian listened with patient confusion. As Lucid walked away, he could feel Mary's eyes on his back, analyzing, cataloging, trying to make sense of the contradiction. A silver badge walking toward the upper district like he belonged there.

'Let her wonder,' Lucid thought.

Sometime later in his residence he heard a knock at the door. Lucid sighed. He set down his cup, walked to the door, and opened it. Frederick stood there. Blue eyes. Blue hair. That same formal posture, that hint of kindness mixed with rigid propriety. He smiled slightly, inclining his head in greeting.

"Good evening, Lucid. I hope I'm not intruding." Lucid shut the door in his face.

"LUCID!" Alice's voice shrieked in his head.

"He's a knight! He can arrest you at any moment's notice! Did you forget the deal?"

'Let him then,' Lucid thought back flatly.

'He needs me as much as I need him.' The door burst open.

"Oh no, Lucid, you're done for!" Alice screeched. Frederick stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, his hand still on the doorknob.

"Are you going to close the door on a partner? Come on, that's pretty cold of you." Lucid looked him up and down slowly.

"Now we're even. Trespassing on private property. That's a crime."

"Well, I have full authority by the royalty, so I may go in and out as I please upon declaration."

"Upon declaration!" Lucid shot back.

"You merely knocked. You should have recited the passage of introduction on behalf of Vex's first arsenal." They both stared at each other for a moment. Then they both started laughing. Not loud, genuine laughter, but the kind of tired chuckling that came from recognizing the absurdity of it all. Alice sighed in Lucid's mind.

"You two are impossible." Frederick walked in properly, closing the door behind him with more care this time.

"I see you are as lively as ever, Lucid." He said it quietly, almost under his breath.

"So. How's the academy?" Lucid looked at him. Really looked at him. Then said flatly, "Pain." Frederick perked up slightly.

"Oh?"

"But... manageable." Frederick nodded, moving to sit across from Lucid by the fireplace.

"I swear, those snobbish black badge vultures can do everything they want. I punched one once, and apparently his big brother came. Guy kind of looked scary, but he let me off." Frederick's eyes went wide. His entire stance stiffened, his back straightening like someone had pulled a string.

"You mean Miguel? You mean that matter in the courtyard was your doing???"

"Yes," Lucid replied simply. Frederick put a hand up to his face and laughed, the sound somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

"I guess you might be able to pull it off."

"Pull what off?" Lucid asked. The integral, stoic knight straightened, clearing his throat.

"Ahem. I wanted to see if all was faring well and how you were doing. I'm also here to inform you that they have extended the probation to indefinitely."

"YES!" Lucid jumped up, his fist punching the air in triumph. It was completely contrary to his usual flat, uninterested demeanor. Frederick blinked at the sudden display of energy.

"But that doesn't mean you can run around and cause ruckus. Be careful. Had it not been for Miguel, you would have landed in deep water." He paused, his expression growing thoughtful.

"Though it's weird. Miguel is typically a self-centered person. Someone who doesn't look twice when crushing insects under his boots. He hates silver badges and all commoners alike. He also holds me as his rival, though I'm not particularly keen on competition." Frederick looked uncomfortable for a second, shifting in his seat.

"He is also rowdy, obnoxious, loud at times, prideful. Yet... from my point of view, it was as if he was merely discussing with the professors in calm tone. Not his usual behavior at all." Frederick leaned forward slightly, his blue eyes serious.

"Lucid, quite frankly, you should have been dead." That reminded Lucid of something. He looked at Frederick with sudden realization, his expression shifting to annoyance.

"You have a black badge. You didn't tell me you were a filthy noble." Lucid said while eyeing him up and down. Frederick laughed, the sound genuine this time.

"Well, I'm a knight in training. Different circumstances." He stood up, straightening his coat.

"Well, see you tomorrow. The Cleansing is close. I hope you qualify for the Epsilon Rift. Only promising teams with promising candidates can enter, though most are only black badges that have stepped on silver badges for leverage." He paused at the door.

"Upon clearance, one will immediately graduate and gain a considerable amount of social standing." If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Lucid's interest sharpened.

"I can graduate without being a third year?"

"Yes. But you need skill. Not everyone can." Frederick shot Lucid a knowing look, his hand on the doorknob.

"You should also refer to me as Senior. Second year." His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Like a declaration."

"What if I don't?" Lucid asked. Frederick turned around, opening the door.

"Not sure." He paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder.

"Ask the prison cell."

"A joke?" Lucid asked.

"Or not." The door closed behind him. Lucid stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. Then he walked back to the fireplace, picked up his tea, and sat down. The pendant on the table gleamed in the firelight.

"He's an interesting one," Alice said softly.

'He's a pain,' Lucid thought back.

"He cares about you. In his own way."

'He arrested me.'

"And then got you enrolled in the academy. Got you indefinite probation. Probably saved you from whatever Miguel would have done." Alice paused.

"You could do worse for allies."

The next morning, Lucid found himself standing in the training yard for Battle and Survival class. The yard was massive, surrounded by high stone walls with weapon racks lining the perimeter. Dummies made of straw and wood stood at various intervals, some already torn apart from previous sessions. A stern-looking professor stood at the center, arms crossed, watching students file in.

He was a tall man with graying hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, a scar running down one side of his face, and the kind of expression that suggested he'd seen too much combat to tolerate nonsense.

"Pair up!" he barked.

"Find your teams! Today we drill basics. Staff, bow, sword, polearm. If you can't handle all four, you won't survive the Cleansing!" Lucid spotted his usual group. Mary was already there, adjusting her broken glasses nervously. Brian stood beside her, looking uncomfortable in his training clothes that barely fit his large frame. And Garfield was there too, practically bouncing with excitement, his black badge gleaming on his chest.

"Ah! The Silver Misfits assemble!" Garfield declared loudly, spreading his arms wide. Several students turned to stare. A few black badges snickered.

"Can you not," Mary whispered urgently, her face flushing red. They moved to one of the training areas. Weapon racks stood nearby, filled with practice weapons made of wood and dulled metal. Mary immediately grabbed a staff, testing its weight with practiced efficiency. Brian picked up a heavy shield and a short sword, the shield looking almost normal-sized in his large hands. Garfield walked past the regular swords, past the daggers and axes, and grabbed a longsword that was easily twice his size.

The blade was enormous, meant for someone much taller and stronger. He hefted it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. Lucid and Mary stared at him.

"Garfield," Mary said carefully.

"That sword is... really big."

"EXACTLY!" Garfield grinned.

"A weapon should make a statement!"

"The statement being that you're compensating for something?" Lucid muttered. Brian tried to hide a laugh and failed. Lucid turned to the weapons himself. His eyes scanned the racks. Swords. Axes. Bows. Staves. Then his gaze landed on the polearms section. Spears, halberds, glaives. He reached out and grabbed one. A simple spear with a wooden shaft and a blunted metal tip. The moment his fingers wrapped around it, something twisted in his chest. The weight. The balance.

It reminded him of Neptune's tusk, the weapon he'd broken off from that deity in the Void. The memory hit him like a physical blow. Sadness welled up, unexpected and sharp. Guilt followed close behind.

'I killed a deity,' he thought distantly.

'With her own tusk. And I don't even know if I deserve to live.'

"Lucid?" Alice's voice was soft in his mind.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," he lied. The next moments were awkward. Painfully awkward. Mary practiced her staff forms, her movements precise but lacking power. Brian held his shield up defensively, swinging his sword in slow, careful arcs. Garfield surprised everyone by actually demonstrating competent swordplay, the massive blade moving in controlled sweeps despite its size. Lucid tried to mimic what he'd seen others do with spears. He thrust forward. His footing was wrong. He tried to spin the weapon. Nearly dropped it.

He attempted a spell cast to channel through the polearm and stopped halfway, the energy fizzling out uselessly. From across the yard, laughter erupted. The blonde boy from Fenshore House, Alaric, stood with his group of black badges. They were all watching the Silver Misfits practice, barely containing their amusement.

"Look at them!" Alaric called out loudly.

"The silver badge circus is performing!"

"They can't even hold their weapons properly!" another black badge added.

"Wait, is that Garfield?" a girl said, squinting.

"Why is he dirtying himself in the mud with the likes of them? He's a black badge! From the Ashford family!" More laughter. Harsh and mocking. Garfield didn't even look their way. He was too focused on his sword forms, moving through a complex pattern that actually looked... good. Really good. Lucid fumbled with the spear again, his grip slipping. He tried to adjust his stance, but his feet felt clumsy, uncertain.

"You're awkward with your footing," Garfield said suddenly, lowering his massive sword.

"But you've got the spirit of it. Here." He walked over, his usual theatrical energy replaced by something more focused.

"You're used to throwing stuff, aren't you? Grappling? Using ropes or chains? I can see it in how you move." Lucid blinked.

"How did you—""I notice things." Garfield tapped the side of his head.

"Beneath this artistic genius lies a sharp tactical mind! Now listen. With the spear, you can throw it, use the hilt for close combat, swing the edge, create arcs. That's the prominent advantage it has over any sword, any weapon. It's fast, long, and if you can swing arcs with it, it can rival just about any weapon while keeping distance." Everyone went silent. Mary stared at Garfield like she was seeing him for the first time. Brian's mouth hung open slightly.

Even the professor, who'd been walking past, paused to listen.

"Try this," Garfield continued, adjusting Lucid's grip on the spear.

"Hold here. Feet like this. Now thrust, but don't just push forward. Rotate your hips. The power comes from your whole body, not just your arms." Lucid tried it. The spear shot forward with more force and control than before.

"Better!" Garfield said.

"Now again. And this time, step into it." Lucid practiced the motion. Once. Twice. By the third attempt, it actually felt... right.

"Thank you," Lucid managed, the words feeling strange in his mouth. Garfield beamed.

"Of course! We Silver Misfits must support each other! EUREKA! This is the spirit of—""Please stop shouting," Mary said weakly. Alice's voice came in Lucid's mind, and there was amusement in it.

"See? Learn from the professionals."

'He's not a professional,' Lucid thought back.

'He's just... surprisingly not useless.'

"That's the nicest thing you've said about anyone," Alice replied. The practice continued. Mary worked on her staff techniques, her movements growing more confident. Brian practiced defensive maneuvers with his shield, his size actually becoming an advantage as he learned to use his body mass to hold ground. Garfield demonstrated more advanced sword forms, the massive blade whistling through the air in controlled patterns that shouldn't have been possible for someone his size. And Lucid practiced with the spear.

Thrust. Withdraw. Rotate. Step. The movements slowly becoming less awkward, more natural. The weight of the weapon felt familiar in a way he couldn't quite explain.

'Neptune's tusk was heavier,' he thought.

'But the balance is similar.' He tried incorporating some of what Garfield had shown him. Using the hilt to deflect an imaginary attack. Spinning the shaft to create distance. The spear became an extension of his body, piece by piece.

"Not bad, silver badge," the stern professor said, walking past. He didn't stop, didn't elaborate, just kept moving to observe other students. But coming from him, it might as well have been high praise. Alaric and his group had stopped watching, having grown bored. They'd moved on to their own practice, which consisted mostly of showing off for each other and barely working up a sweat.

"You're getting it," Garfield said, nodding approvingly.

"By the Cleansing, you'll be adequate! Maybe even competent!"

"Wow. High praise," Lucid said dryly.

"I know!" Garfield missed the sarcasm entirely.

"Now watch this!" He launched into an elaborate sword form that was definitely more flash than function. Mary sighed. Brian chuckled. Lucid went back to practicing his thrusts.

'Silver Misfits,' he thought, watching his strange group of teammates.

'What a ridiculous name for a ridiculous team.' But as the morning sun climbed higher and the practice continued, as Garfield offered more surprisingly useful advice and Mary corrected everyone's form and Brian quietly encouraged them all, Lucid found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, this ridiculous team might actually survive without his guidance. Maybe.