In the days that followed, Lucian remained within Castle Morne, imrsing himself in the study of storm-based battle arts. Alongside these, he learned footwork techniques such as Quickstep, allowing him to evade attacks with far less exertion.
During this ti, supply convoys from Stormveil Castle arrived, bringing not only provisions but also a large group of settlers. According to Irina, they were residents from Godrick's domain—villagers who had long lived in the wilderness. Now that Castle Morne faced a shortage of manpower, Godrick had simply sent them here. It was a boon for both the fortress and these displaced folk.
In recent days, Irina visited Lucian frequently. Edgar had invited from Stormveil a devout old woman—an instructor of Incantations from the Golden Order—who had arrived alongside the supplies. Each day, Irina followed this teacher to learn the art of incantations. While Lucian trained outside the castle walls, she practiced her incantations within. When Lucian returned with ti to spare, she would have her servants escort her to him, where she would speak of the struggles she faced in her lessons—sotis even grumbling in good humor.
Lucian had observed the Incantation teacher from afar: an elderly woman whose lined face radiated piety. Irina confided that she was learning the Protection of the Erdtree, and once she had mastered it, she would be able to aid him in his battles.
He agreed aloud, but inwardly, he had no wish for her to take part in any fight. Battle was dangerous enough—doubly so for one with her sightless eyes. He could not always be there to protect her. Yet when faced with the joy in her voice, he found himself unable to refuse.
Several more days passed, and Lucian had beco proficient in his storm arts. Their power was formidable, though so aspects still required polish. He no longer needed Edgar's guidance, freeing the castellan to return to his own duties.
Lucian decided it was ti to stop training in seclusion. He would venture out for a day or two to explore the Weeping Peninsula, refining his new techniques in true combat. He rembered that two Sacred Tears and Radagon's Scarseal lay sowhere upon the peninsula. These would be his first objectives.
After bidding farewell to Edgar and Irina, Lucian set out. At the site of grace by Castle Morne's main gate, lina appeared at his side.
"Ready to depart?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied. "I'll explore the peninsula first. There's a church marked on the map—might be a Sacred Tear there."
From his satchel, he drew a map borrowed from Edgar, one that had long hung upon the castellan's wall. It was expansive, covering the entirety of Limgrave and the Weeping Peninsula. Even Stormveil's interior routes were marked—a useful detail for the day he would face Godrick.
Lucian handed both the map and a blank parchnt to lina. "Would you copy this onto the parchnt?"
"Of course," she said, studying the map before taking out her tools and setting to work.
While she drew, Lucian planned his route. Teleport from here to the grace site beyond the outer walls—where he had once faced frenzied foes. From there, ride to the first church for a Sacred Tear, then unseal the Evergaol to claim Radagon's Scarseal. Afterward, proceed to the second church for the final Tear, and then descend to the ruins at the foot of the Church.
He recalled that these ruins held the sealed body of the Sorceress Sellen. He would see it for himself. As for caves and catacombs—he could not recall any of particular importance on the peninsula, so they could wait. This route promised little interference from lesser foes; they would offer him no true challenge, only squander his ti. The Ancient Hero of Zamor, bound within the Evergaol, would be his chosen opponent—human-shaped, dangerous, and perfect for honing his skills.
When lina finished her copy, she transported them to the grace site beyond the castle walls. The spot was deserted—no sign of the rchant Anogo. Lucian was unsurprised; Anogo had dealings with Castle Morne, and with the rebellion quelled, he had been making frequent trips between the two.
With a sharp note of the whistle, Torrent materialized beside him, snorting with anticipation for the road ahead. In recent days, lina had ridden him only around the outskirts of the castle, and the steed had grown restless for new vistas.
Lucian stroked his mane, mounted up, and urged him forward.
Following the forest path marked on the map, Lucian wove through dense woodland. Suddenly, a plu of smoke erupted from the undergrowth, and several small saplings transford into squat, hideous creatures—resembling the goblins of fairy tales. Demi-humans, using mimicry to mask their approach.
They barked and shrieked, striking their crude weapons against battered shields in a practiced attempt to intimidate their prey. It was a tactic that had served them well—until now.
At first startled, Lucian quickly recognized them for what they were and felt no fear. Demi-humans not only looked like goblins; their fighting prowess was much the sa—pitiful.
Unmoved by their bluster, he watched them as Torrent snorted in open impatience. The creatures hesitated, then rushed him in a frenzied mob.
A single surge of wind-blades tore through them, leaving their bodies strewn lifeless upon the ground.
Riding onward, Lucian rembered telling Boc to wait for him sowhere in the region. Perhaps, on his way to Stormveil, he would stop by and check.
Ahead lood a rope-and-plank suspension bridge. Before it lounged a larger, stronger demi-human—likely the Chief.
Lucian reined in Torrent and dismounted. The Lesser Demi-Human Chief was no great threat—perhaps stronger than a Lesser Runebear by a small margin—but far from worthy of his full strength. The only concern was its proximity to the bridge; a careless burst of wind could easily destroy it.
Hearing his approach, the Lesser Demi-Human Chief rose, drawing two short blades. It dropped to all fours and lunged.
"You'll do for a warm-up," Lucian muttered.
With a flourish, he drew his greatsword and invoked Lion's Claw. Storm wrapped about him, hastening his aerial roll. The Lesser Demi-Human Chief had no ti to react before the blade cleaved through its shoulder, nearly bisecting it. The winds roared within its body, then burst outward, rending it apart from within.
With a sweep of storm, the blood was cast from the steel. Lucian sheathed the blade, mounted Torrent, and pressed on.
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