Ascension Of The Villain

"Please, forgive us. I am so, so sorry for what happened to your barn. I never meant for it to happen—it's entirely my fault. If I had known I had a phobia of barns, I would have been far more cautious. I just panicked and… I will absolutely cover the damages. I am deeply, truly sorry," Clyde lied about the truth of the incident as he bowed his head before Jenna's family.

Jenna's father nodded solemnly. "It's alright. No one was harmed, at least."

Clyde exhaled in relief, lifting his head. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for your understanding of my situation." He had no choice but to take the blame on his shoulders as he couldn't reveal to common folks about Vyan's magical abilities.

"Anyway, why did you two come here?" Jenna's father questioned.

"We actually came to offer our condolences for Jenna's passing. I know we should have come sooner. We are terribly sorry for your loss, sir. There is nothing we can do to lessen the pain of losing your precious daughter, but we will do our best to help you in other ways…" Clyde continued, presenting the flowers and discussing the financial reparations with Jenna's father.

Meanwhile, Vyan stood stiffly beside him, his gaze locked on the ground. His emotions were a storm he couldn't calm. He felt awful for the way he panicked and how the barn went up in flames by his doing, and yet, Clyde had to take up all the blame.

He knew he should speak—offer his condolences, apologize, do something to not seem like the cold, unfeeling noble he feared they would perceive him as—but the words wouldn't come.

He felt like a criminal, standing in front of these people—first sending off their daughter to die, then now, wrecking their barn and lying about it.

The panic from before had shattered his composure. He now couldn't even stop his hands from trembling…

A wrinkled hand gently clasped his, wrapping his cold, shaking fingers in warmth. "Are you alright, dear?"

Startled, Vyan looked up into the kind eyes of Jenna's mother.

"You must be shaken up from seeing so much fire all of a sudden," she said with a gentle smile. "Would you like some water?"

Vyan shook his head slightly, mumbling, "It's alright." He was slightly confused as to why she was being nice to him.

Her smile deepened with understanding. "You don't have to feel guilty for what your aide did. It was an honest mistake. That barn was old and worn out long before. Don't worry about it."

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"It's… it's not just the barn…" His voice wavered, betraying the vulnerability he hadn't expected.

He had kept it together with the four other families they visited before this—some were cold, some angry, some devastated. In fact, it had been fairly easier to make his apology to those expected reactions with a practiced bow. But now, facing the unexpected kindness of this family was making it hard to do so.

Jenna's mother squeezed his hand, her voice soft and knowing, "I understand. But you shouldn't feel guilty about that, either. Jenna chose to become a knight, knowing full well what it could mean."

As a tear slipped from her eye, Vyan could see how much pain she was in from losing her only daughter, and yet, she kept smiling at him.

"And believe me, we are forever grateful that you gave her the chance to officially become a knight. Her father worried endlessly that she wouldn't find a place in this world, simply because she was a woman wielding a sword. But she wrote about you in her letter—about how you never once treated her differently because of her gender…"

Her voice faltered as she sniffled. "Do you know how proud she was to stand among your elites? So, please don't make her sacrifice seem small by feeling guilty about it. She did what an honorable knight was supposed to do."

Her words pierced through the fog of guilt that had suffocated him. Guilt he had desperately tried to bury, to forget with the snap of a finger.

If only he had given himself the time to think properly, he should have come to the same conclusion as Jenna's mother. But he kept running away from facing it.

When will he learn? Running from the past only deepened the wound; it was in facing it, in acknowledging the pain, that he could begin to heal.

Vyan finally found his voice, his tone filled with respect and conviction. "I am so sorry, Mrs. Claritte. Dame Jenna truly was a magnificent swordsperson, and I also was extremely proud to have her on my team."

"Thank you," Mrs. Claritte whispered, still smiling through her tears as she gently patted his hand. "Thank you for acknowledging and honoring my daughter, Your Grace."

———

"Well, that was... something," Clyde finally said as they settled back into the carriage. "What got into you back there, huh?"

Vyan glanced out the window, his expression distant. "I don't know," he murmured. "Who knew that just the sight of a barn could rattle me like that?"

Clyde's brow furrowed. "Do you think there is some... traumatic memory tied to it?"

"Maybe," Vyan replied, his tone reflective. "Or maybe I buried that memory so deep I forgot it existed."

Clyde nodded slowly, the wheels in his mind turning. "Well, in that case, I don't think it's the best idea to head to Ditrole right now. What if it drags up even more memories? We should just head back and—"

"No." Vyan's voice was firm, catching Clyde off guard. "I want to face those memories, not run from them."

Clyde blinked in surprise. "Why?"

"My past can't stay hidden forever," Vyan said, frustration creeping into his voice. "I can't keep living with these gaps in my memory. I don't even remember my family, Clyde. All I know is what other people tell me, or what comes back in broken fragments now and then. It's... confusing."

"But just this morning, we talked, no? That some memories are better left buried," Clyde argued gently. "Why dig them up?"

"Because I would rather know the truth, even if it hurts," Vyan replied, his voice softer but resolute. "I need to understand why barns terrify me, how I ended up in an orphanage in Ditrole after disappearing in Ashstone, where this scar on my forehead came from... and everything else that doesn't add up."

Clyde whistled low. "Wow... You really are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?"

Vyan let out a long sigh, putting on a wry smile. "If you disagree with my decision, you are welcome to head back home alone."

Clyde chuckled, shaking his head. "Leave you alone? Since when have I ever done that?"

Vyan shot him a teasing glance. "Only when you are with Thea."

Clyde laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. "Touché."

He gave the carriage driver a nod, signaling him to continue towards the transportation portal. Their destination: Halesbrook, Ditrole.

Vyan's hand moved to the silver chain around his neck, his fingers brushing the cool metal of the locket. Iyana had returned it to him the last time she visited the manor—she had meant to give it back during the monster hunt's winner announcement but kept forgetting.

This locket, once a symbol of his hatred, had become a source of comfort. Whenever he felt anxious or uncertain, the simple act of holding it seemed to calm him and clear his head.

It was time to return to the place that was both a part of him and a blur in his memory. Time to face whatever waited for him in the shadows of his past.