Moments after the dust had settled, the halls of the Kremlin Palace were once again restored to splendor.
Tsar Nicholas II was a man who cared greatly about appearances. Without the proper ceremonial setting, he would rather remain seated in place, waiting. So the moment he regained mobility after Rasputin's death, he immediately issued orders for the attendants to replace the damaged carpets and repair the palace floor.
Sunlight slanted in through the open doors, casting its golden rays upon the freshly refurbished decor. Dust motes swirled like drifting fireflies in the light around Lucan. He stood tall beneath the sun, his black priestly robes immaculate, his figure straight and composed, his handsome features calm and silent.
Tsar Nicholas II approached him with great reverence—gone was the imposing sovereign who had just sat atop the throne.
"Master Lucan," he said, "please, take your seat."
Lucan glanced at him, then looked toward the seat the Tsar indicated.
It was placed higher than the royal throne.
He understood well—Nicholas now regarded him as no less than divine. Had history followed its original path, only Rasputin—now dead by Lucan's own hand—would have ever received such reverence from the Tsar. And now, Lucan had taken his place.
More than a sage—he was a saint in Nicholas's eyes.
But Lucan didn't move. Instead, he said:
"How is His Highness Alexei?"
He hadn't forgotten his real goal.
After all, reverence was only temporary. Real influence could only be maintained if people gained something tangible from you.
Seeing Lucan remain still, Nicholas II didn't press him. He simply responded with respectful concern:
"Earlier, Rasputin… that demon, had me beguiled. I invited him to examine Alexei, and since then, it's been two days without an attack."
There was worry on his face. Now that he had confirmed Rasputin was a demon, he couldn't help but wonder if that demon might have cursed Alexei in some hidden way.
Just then, he noticed something—Lucan's deep brown eyes suddenly lit up with a brilliant, multicolored radiance, like starlight refracted through a prism.
"He's fine," Lucan said calmly. "My eyes have seen his future. That demon only sought to win your trust—he never harmed Prince Alexei. The demon's power came from hell, but even hell was created by God. As long as you respond correctly, there is nothing to fear."
"Your Majesty Nicholas II, you needn't worry. But if it eases your mind… once you return, have Alexei drink more hot water."
In truth, Lucan couldn't see the future. The rituals inscribed on his body made him powerful—but they granted no clairvoyance.
What he did have was knowledge of history—and as a magus moonlighting as a priest, feigning divinity came as naturally as breathing.
He may not have had the facts—but he had the confidence.
"Does hot water… really help?" Nicholas asked, both reverent and confused.
"Not for Alexei," Lucan replied with a wink. "But it'll help you—after all, you wouldn't be at ease if there wasn't some kind of remedy, would you?"
His tone was both witty and personable. Nicholas finally relaxed.
He thought: This sage wouldn't lie to me. I was once deceived by a demon—but that demon is now dead. Even if Rasputin had cast a curse, it must have been destroyed with him.
"In that case, I'd like to appoint you to a court position. I'll have a personal palace built for you—a sanctuary fit for your eminence."
But deep down, Nicholas was still uneasy.
He wanted Lucan to stay.
To remain within the palace.
Not just for Alexei, his frail and pitiable son—but also for himself, his wife, his family… and his three innocent daughters.
Lucan didn't accept.
But he didn't refuse either.
"I'm used to wandering," he said. "I don't need a palace—but I wouldn't stay in a thatched hut either."
"I've heard the Kremlin has the largest library in the empire—built by Ivan IV, containing nearly every book in the world. I'm quite interested in that."
Lucan smiled.
He had no intention of getting involved in politics too soon.
He knew Rasputin's fate: once he interfered too much with court matters and offended too many nobles, he was assassinated. Though Rasputin survived multiple deaths with mysterious means, he was ultimately drowned for good.
Lucan didn't want to die.
He was strong now—but not strong enough to face every danger.
He needed to accumulate.
And once he had enough power… then he would step forth and shake the world.
Nicholas II, not understanding the true meaning behind Lucan's words, exclaimed in admiration:
"Truly, your virtue is unmatched! You are a genuine saint!"
"I believe one day, the Church will canonize someone like you!"
His praise came from the heart.
To shun luxury, to turn away from power, and instead long for knowledge—what could be more saintly?
Nicholas respected the brilliant youth even more.
He was already imagining Lucan's future in vivid detail.
"The Church, hmm?" Lucan replied vaguely.
As a magus at his core, he didn't think highly of the Church, an institution that worshiped blindly.
To analyze the mystery and to worship blindly were fundamentally incompatible.
But he understood—this was a land steeped in faith. The Russian Empire overflowed with believers. It was not the place to openly defy the Church.
Even now, Lucan's actions—using faith to influence imperial politics—would eventually place him at odds with them.
So he simply said:
"One last warning, Your Majesty. For the next three days, do not let Prince Alexei sleep in any room with a hanging chandelier."
This was a prophecy once made by Rasputin in actual history.
Lucan recited it word for word.
[Nicholas II agreed to your request. He furnished your quarters within the Kremlin's grand library with everything you might need—even items of great luxury.]
[To this deeply devout emperor, a saint may refuse pleasure, but he must never refuse the chance to express his reverence—otherwise, he'd feel guilty and restless.]
[You accepted the gifts without hesitation.]
[You understood they were bought with the people's labor and taxes. You intend to repay them one day—but for now, there are more pressing matters to attend to.]
[On your first day in the library, you reviewed the catalog of books. With over hundreds of thousands of volumes, your mind swirled with both awe and ambition.]
[There were ancient tomes from the era of Ancient Greece, occult classics from the Renaissance, political treatises from the height of the Roman Empire, and eerie grimoires from the Dark Ages.]
[The collection spanned the entire Western world, its mysteries recorded across time—not complete, but more than sufficient for you.]
[You resolved to use them to build your own magus lineage and legacy.]
[On the second day, you heard that a chandelier in Prince Alexei's bedroom had fallen—landing directly on the bed. Fortunately, Nicholas had heeded your prophecy and didn't let him sleep there.]
[Because of you, Alexei was spared.]
[Nicholas's wife, Empress Maria Feodorovna, was filled with admiration and gratitude.]
[The four princesses of the empire were now deeply curious about you.]
[And you… began your research in earnest, turning away from worldly matters.]