The day after the Third Prince’s party, there were many rumors that started going around. So of the servants present had witnessed many incredible things that day, from the gifts given by the Tower Masters to the duel between Lucen and Reginald.
Of course, more than the magical gifts that the Tower Masters gave, the focus of the rumors was the duel between Lucen Thornehart and Reginald Vermont.
"They say that it was a one-sided match."
"Hmph, I long thought that the arrogant Reginald needed a few hits in the head."
"I heard that Reginald Vermont was disowned by his father."
"I keep on hearing Lucen Thornehart’s na more often these days."
So stories grew taller with every retelling.
In a few hours, so swore Lucen had defeated Reginald with one hand tied behind his back.
Others claid he hadn’t used aura at all, only strange conjured weapons no one had ever seen.
Lucen’s fa, which started due to the bards singing of his grand feat of killing a young fire dragon, was growing to an incredible degree. The second he ca to Caelhart, he defeated the Underground arena champion, and now he has also defeated Reginald Vermont.
Though defeating Reginald was hardly as grand as slaying a dragon, the duel carried its own weight.
Everyone knew Reginald wielded aura, while Lucen had not used a shred of aura nor a spell, save for conjuring that unknown weapon. And if that weren’t enough, he won the second round with nothing but his bare hands.
More and more information about Lucen was coming into the light, and there were many who wanted to know more. Most nobles started gathering all the information they could get about Lucen Thornehart.
If before, they were still thinking about switching sides, after seeing Lucen’s skills up close, there were also so who had switched their alliances.
Even though every noble knew that the current four Duke households were neutral and had shown no signs of siding with any of the royal children.
But, unlike the Iron Duke, who was focused solely on protecting the North of Norvaegard, Lucen Thornehart seed like the sort who had other plans.
Letters were drafted the night after the party. Secret ssages that only they understood what they ant.
So nobles, long hesitant, quietly shifted their loyalty toward the Third Prince, now seen as backed by the Iron Duke’s heir.
Others panicked, whispering that if the Thornehart boy showed such power at thirteen, what would he beco in ten years?
Based on how he interacted with the Second Princess and the Third Prince, so nobles created the Third Prince’s faction, which never existed before.
This was a major change to the original tiline, and Lucen was unaware of it at the mont.
***
Back in the Thorneharts’ estate in Caelhart, Lucen had drunk a bottle of blue liquid. This was a drug that he got from Robert that would help in recalling mories. As long as it was sothing in his mind, this drug would help him rember every detail.
This was not an item he rembered seeing in the ga, but there were many things in those Alchemy books that weren’t part of the ga. Lucen asked Robert about it, and it turns out there really was a drug for such a thing.
It was effective for half a day, and due to intense recollection, it causes fatigue. It was one of the favorite drugs that mages intake when practicing spells, or when doing research.
Lucen sat cross-legged in his room, eyes half-closed. The liquid burned as it slid down his throat, leaving a tallic bitterness that clung to his tongue.
Almost imdiately, his mind sharpened. The fog of mory lifted, and fragnts of his past life clicked into place with frightening clarity.
Every book he ever read, every ani, TV show, movie, he had ever seen every ga he ever played, even sothing as simple as the price of a cup of coffee, had co to him so vividly.
He wasn’t sure at first if this drug would work for his past life’s mories, since he wasn’t truly sure, since in the back of his mind, he thinks that those mories might have been delusions. Now that he actually rembered more than normal, he was relieved.
’This thing really works... It does hurt a little, though,’ he thought, rubbing his temple. Already, he felt the strain gnawing at him, his body sluggish even as his mind ran faster than ever.
Robert had warned him of the side effects. Most normal people would not be able to handle the strain, but for a mage or an aura user, even just a normal, physically fit person with a good ntal state could handle this much strain.
Still, it was not sothing anyone could use frequently. Lucen felt like his skull was breaking open, but after a while, the pain lessened. It still felt like a massive headache, though.
He could also feel and hear his heart beating faster. It was like he had drunk nurous energy drinks all at once.
The mories ca to him even when he was not thinking about them, making him feel a little bit dizzy. Still, for a brief second, he wanted to check how he died. Since he could not rember much about that part.
Still, Lucen hesitated, since for so reason he was scared to rember that part of his life. ’Maybe rembering my death will answer why I ca into this world...’ Lucen thought to himself.
He hesitated for a bit, and in the end, he decided that he didn’t need that information for now. For so reason, he was truly averse to rembering that part of his past life.
’Well, who in the world would want to rember his own death?...’
Lucen exhaled slowly. "Just half a day. Better focus to squeeze out what I need."
He needed his past life’s mories of Don Quixote and Man of La Mancha, and needed to refine them to fit the people of this fantasy world.
The flood of mories swirled like a river breaking its dam. Pages of Cervantes’ words. Stage lights from a college theater. A lody echoing in a dusty auditorium. The ragged figure of Don Quixote tilting at windmills. The warmth of laughter, the sting of tragedy.
Lucen’s lips curved faintly. "Perfect..."
He began sorting through the mories, stripping away what would confuse this world and weaving what could move them.
Nobles in this world, especially this kingdom of warriors, wouldn’t care for satire aid at windmills. But the story of a man chasing an impossible dream? A man mocked as mad yet still shining brighter than those who called him a fool? That was tiless.
"To dream the impossible dream..."
The line rang in his head, clear as when he first heard it. He had sung that song every now and then when he was feeling down.
Of course, it wasn’t just that song; there were many inspirational songs he heard from movies, ani, and even gas that he sang.
He wanted to show the Third Prince how anything can be done as long as one has the belief and the willpower to do it.
"This is going to not only inspire the little prince to change, but it will also give a fair amount of gold coins, which I will use to improve Dorsen." Lucen smiled as he started writing more and more words.
Lucen had written quite a few fanfics back in his high school days. Writing, sothing like this, with the help of the drug, was quite fun; it reminded him of the old days.
He used to write those fanfics for his love of the genre, but later he did it because of the praises he got from his friends and classmates.
He rembered the grins of his classmates when they flipped through his fanfics, the way they teased him yet still asked when the next Chapter would drop.
He rembered the cramped copy shop near his high school, the sll of toner ink filling his nose as he begged the clerk to hurry so he wouldn’t miss the morning bus.
At conventions, he’d sit behind a rickety booth, heart pounding whenever a stranger bought a copy.
The earnings were pitiful, barely enough for fast food after, but the thrill of watching soone laugh or sigh over his words had been priceless.
He never did make it big in that departnt, but he did gain so fa among the people who frequent such events.
’Those truly were fun tis. I always did do an all-nighter to finish work and rushed to print out a few fanfics. Even those sh*tty experiences did beco fond mories... Okay, enough nostalgia, got to focus on writing.’
Ink splattered as his quill danced. Words poured from him in steady strokes, dialogue reshaped for this world, characters molded to fit the nobility’s pride and the people’s yearning.
A knight, not clad in shining armor, but in stubborn resolve. A prince, not bound by chains of expectation, but stirred awake by a dream.
***
It took a few hours, but Lucen was able to finish writing the entire script for the play he wanted.
Sweat had dampened his collar. His hand trembled so badly that the last line ca out crooked. The ink bled where a drop fell from his nose, and he barely had the strength to blot it.
It felt like he was awake for a week and had run an entire marathon. He was breathing heavily, but he was done.
"Now, I just need to send this to that playwright... Harry Nidouhi..."
Despite his breathing being unstable, his head was aching greatly, and he wanted to sleep. Lucen still smiled a bit, thinking about what kind of expression Harry would have after reading this script.
Lucen’s eyes closed, exhaustion finally winning. In a month or two from now, Caelhart would awaken to an impossible dream it never knew it needed.
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