The discussion between Lucian and Ranni went surprisingly well.
His strength and hidden influence were precisely what Ranni, forced to remain in the shadows, so desperately needed.
Beneath the moonlight, the two of them swore a pact—each to lean upon the other, to walk side by side, if only for a time.
"Ah… that brings something to mind."Ranni said suddenly, as though a thought had just struck her. She turned toward Lucian.
"There is a matter of some import I would entrust to thee."
Lucian blinked. "Important?"
"The Carian royal line guards a sword of the rarest kind. Wouldst thou care to behold it?" Her tone carried the faintest smile. "I believe it would suit thee well."
To defeat her brother Radahn and release the imprisoned stars, one needed power beyond reckoning. Blaidd, loyal though he was, could not hope to match the might of a demigod. Ranni knew this well.
In the Lands Between, strength was never measured in neat ranks or stages. There were the commonfolk, then soldiers, knights, and among knights, those of high order—Storm Knights and the like—whose prowess far exceeded the rest.
Mages, too, were divided. A sorcerer worthy of donning a glintstone crown was already considered high-ranking.
Beyond these lay the heroes—though even among them, strength varied wildly. Some were but famed knights within their armies; others, the mightiest of them, possessed power enough to rival demigods—so long as those demigods bore no Great Rune.
The first generation of demigods, however, stood on an entirely different plane. Godwyn the Golden. Radahn and his siblings. The Twin Prodigy heirs of the Haligtree. Their bloodline alone set them apart, their Great Runes granting them strength enough to command armies single-handedly.
Even now, though Radahn was rotted and half-mad, Blaidd and the festival's warriors could not hope to bring him down.
No, in this age, the one with the greatest chance of felling him was Lucian.
Ranni knew it. Which was why arming him was a necessity.
The Carian treasure would strengthen him beyond his current limits. His Dragon Slayer Swordspear was formidable, yes—but in Ranni's eyes, it was still lacking. The sword she would entrust him was far beyond that.
Lucian's ears perked at the offer. A free weapon, and from Ranni herself? How could he refuse? If memory served, the Carian treasure was the Sword of Night and Flame—a weapon of legend, whispered of in countless tales.
"Of course I'm interested," he said with a smile. "Collecting weapons of every kind, that too is one of life's pleasures."
Ranni let out a quiet laugh. "Fret not. Thou shalt not be disappointed."
Turning with a sweep of her robe, she beckoned him to follow. She seemed in good spirits, almost playful. That, Lucian thought, could be either fortunate—or dangerous.
As she drifted from the chamber, the books she had hidden beneath her chair tumbled into view. Four thick tomes, stacked to give her height. Lucian wisely said nothing. Pointing it out would surely earn her wrath.
'As they say 'Silence is a virtue' or something like that.' He thought to himself
He followed her down the tower's lift.
At the door, the battered Black Knife Assassin straightened sharply, standing at attention.
Ranni's gaze lingered on the woman, then shifted to Lucian. "So… Selyra has been under thy care. It seems she hath endured much."
So the assassin had a name. Selyra.
Lucian shrugged. "I only wished to study the Black Knife itself. But she refused to stop attacking. I may have been… a little rough. I didn't expect to find your trace upon her weapon."
Ranni sighed softly. "Fate plays cruel tricks…"
Her eyes drifted over Selyra's ruined armor—pieces cracked, shattered, held together only by her own hand. Another step, and the whole set might have fallen apart.
"Thy armor is beyond all mending."Ranni said at last. "Change into other attire anon. And from this day forth, serve Lord Lucian as thy master. Heed his command."
Selyra's expression flickered with surprise, even disbelief, but she bowed her head. "As you command…" Her voice was hoarse, but audible.
Lucian blinked. She could speak?
Ranni conjured a faint mist, sending the assassin away. Only when Selyra had vanished into the distance did Lucian turn to her.
"Why assign her to me?"
Ranni tilted her head. "What… thou findest her company displeasing? Surest thou hast felt her strength."
Lucian shook his head. "Not dislike. It pleases me to gain another ally. But you said yourself—you lack trustworthy retainers. Wouldn't she serve you better?"
Ranni's tone grew cool, pragmatic. "The Black Knives are too dangerous to keep close. Their identities cannot be hidden, not truly. Even bereft of armor, their features would draw suspicion. And should the Two Fingers trace them to me, all is lost."
"Yet beneath thy banner… none would dare probe too deeply. Thou art the Stormlord of Stormveil—open, visible, a man of standing. Who would dare accuse thee of consorting with assassins of the Night of the Black Knives?"
Lucian considered, then nodded. She was right. In Stormveil, where he preached coexistence of races, even the strangest faces drew no undue suspicion. And anyone foolish enough to press would quickly learn what it meant to face Silver Knights.
From her sleeve, Ranni drew forth a folded map, handing it to him. "If thou dost wish, I can see to it that the remaining Black Knives—those still in concealment, join thee as well. They may serve in the shadows, or as 'maids', shouldst thou prefer."
Lucian smiled faintly. Who would refuse such a gift? "Then I'll see how best to employ them. Rest assured, I won't let it compromise you."
The map marked five sites—two familiar graves where Black Knives once lingered, and three more he had never known. Later, he would visit them all. For now, there was a greater prize awaiting.
"Summon Torrent,"Ranni called, drifting skyward with ease. Her robe trailed like mist as she turned a circle in the air, almost teasing.
Lucian stared. "You can fly? Is it sorcery?"
"Of course," she replied, smirking. "Do you wish to learn? All you need is a moon."
He sighed. Not something he could grasp anytime soon. Perhaps one day, with the Crucible Knights' wings…
Torrent appeared, nuzzling Ranni's hand like an old friend. She stroked his mane fondly.
"Thou hast chosen well, Torrent."
With Lucian astride, they rode toward the cliffs beyond Caria Manor.
There, Ranni clapped her hands. The rock face shimmered, an illusion dissolving to reveal a hidden cave.
Inside glittered countless glintstone crystals, their light bathing shelves lined with relics, weapons, scrolls, and tools of war. Most racks lay bare—emptied in the wars past—but some treasures still remained.
"This cache was laid aside for my brothers in the time of the Shattering." Ranni explained. "It was never wholly spent, and hath lain untouched since. What little I sent thee before was drawn from this very store."
She gestured dismissively. "Most holds little value now. Yet there remains one relic still worthy of keeping."
She pointed toward a heavy stone chest. "See for thyself… open it."
Lucian approached. The ancient lid groaned as he pushed it back, releasing a surge of ancient power long sealed away.
Within lay a sword of breathtaking beauty.
A straight blade, not overly long, its hollowed core lined with glinting emerald crystals, as though it carried the night sky within. The hilt was wrought of crimson gems bound with filigree of gold, its pommel crowned with a scepter-like ornament.
It radiated a presence both fiery and cold, flame and night entwined—a relic of mystery and majesty. Not merely a weapon, but a thing to stir awe of the ancient age.
The Sword of Night and Flame.
Lucian's breath caught. He could not tear his gaze away.