Chapter 3: Chapter 2: An Unreliable Lifelong Friend.

Once both Irene and Argos we're done with their food, Arya passed by to pick up the plates and silverware, leaving quickly.

Although she looked back a few moments to take a peek at me, she eventually hurried along to do her duties. Reaching for her cane, Irene stood up and guided herself to the end of the table, turning around at it's edge and following it until she was directly at my right.

"Deneve," She said, reaching her hand and patting around for the back of my head. "I don't want you to think you're alone."

I didn't know what to say. In spite of my assimilation of old Deneve's love for her emotionally constipated mother, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. How could I tell her I wasn't the child she gave birth to?

Her long, black hair covered the sides of my face as she inclined forward to put our foreheads together. She gripped her cane strongly, but her hand on the back of my head was gentle.

"Deneve, my child." Closing her eyes, she continued, "War is an ugly thing, and I'm sorry I cannot fight it for you. Forgive this mother of yours for being useless."

The longer she talked, the more her words sounded like whispers. I reached out my hand to grip the hem of her green gambeson.

"Deneve, child, I'm sorry. How I'd love to never let you see what my eyes once saw. But you must rise. Rise far above them, my dear, so you may live."

Only I could hear those last words, and then as suddenly as she spoke, she moved away.

Lingering for a few seconds, she turned away and left, signaling Argos something I couldn't understand. He knocked softly in the table for her to hear. And then disappeared through the old hallways.

Argos stood up, his brow furrowed from the pain in his leg. Arya brought him a pair of crutches, as was habit. For as long as Deneve knew, Argos would pick up the crutches only after dinner, claiming that only at this time of day and onward would his leg be unusable.

"...Deneve, come with me." The man that now was my father, standing straight even in his crutches, looked at me stand up and follow behind him.

His pace was fast, in spite of his height and leg, as he guided me through the side of the house I never before was allowed to set foot in. Passing through a tall steel door into a stone hall, he reached his hand to the right, a small flame flickering between his fingers, lightning up an oil lantern.

Argos married into the family, and although he had taken the Lucerne surname his blood was still Adustian. I didn't know which family he came from, however. He never told his daughter.

From the first lantern, with a small movement of the man's finger, the flame continued flying away from us and lighting up the rest of the lantern, sticking to the wall until every light was on.

Moving away from his back, I saw an armory. Stacks and stacks of weapons and armour filling up every corner and every stand. A big image of our ancestor, Riveras, hanged on the wall.

The side of her profile was fierce yet silent, and she held in her hands a Lucerne hammer. Famous polearm of our House, and her weapon of choice for as long as she lived. Long, silky black hair flowing to the floor, as she wore a crimson Knight's uniform. All around her were smaller, yet more abundant paintings of other famous members of the house.

Argos laid his left palm on my head, and then lowered it to my back, pushing me gently onwards. "Choose, Deneve. Any weapon."

He pointed to a pair of stairs leading downwards in a spiral, revealing multiple floors.

"This is your inheritance. Choose then, the weapon that will be bound to you by blood. Don't worry about them looking brittle or easy to break.

These are all sharp, Origin engraved weapons. No matter how delicate the decorations look, these weapons won't break, won't lose their edge. Whichever one you choose, it will change however it has to to fit you."

I stepped forward. I could recognize some of these weapons, as they were depicted in some of the paintings. The Lucernes chose a weapon to follow them until death, and even if they later had a different one made, once their life faded both would be added to this armory, to be chosen by their descendants. No matter if you never used it, it would forever remain at your side, to grant our magicless bloodline the strength of our ancestors.

As I passed through the piles and the corners, I could vaguely make out the humming of the steel. These weapons were alive, and they would also choose according to their own wishes.

But I could hear a louder, stronger hum. The more I payed attention to it, the quieter the others got.

I don't know if they stopped out of respect or fear, but I chose to follow the hum anyway. Down the stairs, until the very last floor, until I stopped in front of an engraved elongated chest.

When I opened it, I could see it clearly. A Lucerne hammer. Rivera's Lucerne hammer. All of it black steel, etched with countless engravings.

I picked it up, and it was surprisingly light. The engravings went round in apparently random patterns, but in the middle of the hammer point, there was a small hole connecting towards the etchings in both sides.

I flicked at it with my finger, and Omen, the polearm, sung softly through the steel and the etchings, resounding through the armory.

I took it up the stairs in my hands, and it trembled from excitement. It hadn't been out for a long, long time. Argos stared at me and Omen for a few seconds, but abstained from saying anything.

"Let's go then," Argos said, "Irene is waiting outside."

I nodded, ready to go. Omen told me to prepare for the contract, and so I walked with resolute steps behind Argos, as he snapped his fingers to extinguish the flames.

Once we were out of the manor, standing on the garden Arya took me out of before, I saw Irene standing in the plain with a Zweihander replacing her cane. Leaving his clutches to the side, Argos sat in a bench facing the garden.

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On the ground next to my now mother, there was a small ornamental silver dagger, a plate with black ink, and a thin bone needle.

I walked towards her, a bit uncertain. Omen told me of the contract on the way here. The process, somewhat simple, involved dropping some of my blood on the ink plate with the dagger, and then using the needle and the edge of the dagger to hit it cleanly into the weapon.

And so we did just that. Irene knew that Omen would tell me, as her weapon had told her the process when it had been her turn. The small cut on my arm hurt only for a few seconds, and Irene with her steady hands did a clean job with the needle.

The bad part came next. 

I felt something sweet going up my throat, and I puked out blood. A burning feeling through the inside of my body, as if I were shedding my innards.

"Breathe, kid. You'll be fine. I'm here now." I could hear Omen now, as the weapon itself bled black blood into my arms, climbing up through my body.

The Lucerne Baptism. We bind each other together, the weapons and ourselves, so that we may counter our inability to use Origin.

It changes us from the inside out, modifying our natural bodies and potential. If we already were incapable of storing Origin, this makes us incapable of using it even with the help of outside objects. Gives us strength in exchange, the potential to constantly evolve our body.

People lacking in talent have tried it before, but only the Lucerne's natural physique allows this. Inheritance of our faraway origins.

I don't know for how long, but I kept puking out my insides while Omen rebuilt them. Argos on the background turned his head away, gripping his hands tightly. Irene had at some point came to my side to pat my back softly.

"Omen."

"Yes?"

"Make it stop. Please."

"...I'm almost done. Sorry."

After what felt eternal, the burns in my throat healed quickly. Omen was finished, and I could finally take a deep breath. The insides of my eyes itched, but I was now back to normal.

"Deneve." Irene hugged me, strongly.

I hugged her back. Turning around to spit the last bit of blood stuck in my mouth, I noticed it was now black. It worked then.

But truly, you inhuman bastard. Was it too much to tell me it felt like that? Are you going to do that again? Huh? Huh?

Omen snorted in my head. "I did tell you! You're the idiot that thought it was just puking a bit." The weapon in the ground dissolved, appearing again at my side. "I almost felt bad when you were there throwing your innards around, but look at you being mean."

You littl—

"Deneve."

"Yes." Choosing to ignore my new friend, and feeling a bit dizzy, I turned to Irene.

"Get up, today is the start of your training." Mother looked at me with a small smile on her face.

"That's what you get, me says."

Shut up. Are the two of you even human?

"You know I'm not."

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AN: Another chapter today! Are you surprised? I'll try uploading regularly another two chapters tomorrow, so you don't get bored waiting for the story to pick up!

I know how it feels to want to know more but have to wait too long.

Suggestions are welcome always, as English is not my first language. Have a good one!

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