Memories of The Lion

After Lawrence arrived at the mansion, he exited the carriage as James left with the horses to put them away for the night.

He felt an ominous presence watching him. Activating Mana Sense, he was unable to find anything. Thinking he was imagining things, he shook it off.

“I see you’re back!”

Lawrence turned to see Bernard and Aria approaching him, promptly greeting the pair.

“Indeed, I am. How are things going here?”

“Another normal day. Aside from Corinne accidentally dropping a vase…again.” From her tone, Lawrence imagined a cold sweat forming on her face.

“So, a normal day then.” He poked fun at his maid, who wasn’t present to defend herself.

“Are you up to continue training?” Bernard asked, his voice more thunderous than usual.

“I’m always down.”

The two set off for the training area behind the mansion as Aria waved them off before heading back inside to tend to her final daily duties.

“What are we going to be doing today?”

They navigated through the fragrant aromas of various blooming flowers being grown in the gardens around them. Lawrence passed through a white arbor, taking in the scent of the budding roses growing on it.

“Simple combat training, for now. Then we can switch gears tomorrow.”

Lawrence nodded contentedly. His demeanor was humble, but on the inside, he was ecstatic because he wanted to refine his sword style as soon as possible.

As they approached the concrete area, Bernard picked up a wooden sword on the ground, lifted it with his foot, launched it in the air, and caught it with ease.

Impressed by the knight’s theatrics, Lawrence was disappointed he had nothing to offer in return, sheepishly taking his training weapon from the bin on the opposite side.

Bernard held his sword out in front of him, while his other hand was behind his back. The young man got into his stance, reeling his weapon back and bending his knees slightly.

Both of them locked eyes with each other. Bernard’s expression was much more relaxed than Lawrence’s.

After a few more seconds of silent confrontations, Lawrence leaped forward, raising his sword and gripping it with both hands, planning to do a downward strike, but Bernard read his movements, deflecting the attack with ease.

“Tch.”

Even more determined, Lawrence quickly recovered from the counter, turning his body to do a powerful one-handed upward strike this time.

Their weapons slid off of each other, making a rugged etching sound as the young man thrusted his blade forward, attempting a direct strike at the middle-aged knight’s chest. The knight reacted and deflected it. He then struck Lawrence’s hand, causing him to drop his sword from the pain.

“You’re telegraphing your moves too much. Make concise movements, leave nothing for your opponent to read your intentions.”

Lawrence picked up his weapon and backed away, readying himself again. He got himself into the same stance, but tightened his space, attempting to leave no openings this time. His trainer nodded, impressed with the instant improvement to Lawrence’s form.

The Blackwood heir took the initiative again, but instead, he thrusted his sword as his opening move, which again was deflected. However, using the momentum he had, he twisted his body around and delivered a roundhouse kick, forcing Bernard to block, which made a heavy thud.

To the knight’s surprise, the kick was followed by a downward strike, forcing him on the defensive as the two locked blades.

“Leave nothing for your opponent to read your intentions, how’s that?”

Bernard smirked at his student’s quip before kicking Lawrence’s feet out from under him, attempting to get a clean hit. But Lawrence expected it, turning his body to intercept the attack. As he turned some more, he reached behind him, throwing his kukri like a dagger at Bernard, who just barely managed to deflect it, chipping the edge of his sword as it flew past, lightly grazing his cheek.

“Not bad.” He commented, touching the wound with his fingers and seeing the blood as Lawrence got up from the ground.

“Really?”

Bernard lowered his weapon as he wiped the blood off his face.

“Yes, your fighting style reminds me of a group I just barely defeated during my service.”

The young man was interested in what he meant, lowering his weapon as well.

“What group?”

The knight took his right arm out of its jacket sleeve and began unbuttoning his dress shirt from the top to about halfway, before pulling it out of the way to reveal a giant burn scar that covered most of the right side of his chest. Lawrence looked on in shock at the scar, unable to find words to comment on it.

“The Lord of Byole asked for reinforcements to subjugate a band of mercenaries known as the Blood Feathers.”

~

“Well, would ya look at that? The Lion has arrived.”

One of the ragged, hooded mercenaries remarked, raising his sword with a jagged edge towards Bernard.

“Don’t think faltering now will give you solace. You’re to be arrested on several counts of murder.”

Bernard drew his blade, along with his fellow knights. The mercenaries were unwavering, laughing in the face of the overwhelming squadron of Bernard’s peers.

“Faltering? Brother, we were hoping for some bloodshed!”

Three mercenaries rushed towards Bernard as the knight struggled to fend them off.

Echoes of clashing iron and steel reverberated throughout the gorge. Both sides suffered casualties, but the knights sustained very minor losses.

To even the odds, Bernard quickly kicked one of his enemies against the gorge’s wall, briefly taking them out of the fight.

He then quickly struck down his other opponent, leaving the first one as they exchanged strikes, unable to get a clean hit on each other.

The mercenary headbutted Bernard, putting him in a daze, but quickly recovered as the mercenary grabbed black powder from a satchel on his belt, throwing it at Bernard and igniting it with the tip of his blade.

Bernard realized what it was, attempting to retreat, but the powder ignited, exploding in his vicinity.

“Damn it all…”

The knight slowly recovered, realizing most of the armor on his right side had been blown away. Fragments of hot metal seared into his flesh, but he tried his best to ignore the pain.

Before he had more time to recover, through the smoke, a dagger flew towards him, barely being able to deflect it, but he winced as a sharp pain tore through his sword arm, causing him to drop his weapon.

“It’s over!”

The mercenary quickly jumped through the smoke, with an enraptured smile on his face as he was only inches away from achieving victory.

Before he knew it, he realized Bernard had shoulder-charged him, knocking some air out of his lungs as the knight picked up his sword with his opposite hand and plunged the blade deep in his enemy’s throat, staring coldly into his eyes as the life in them disappeared.

At about the same time, the knights finished off the remaining Blood Feathers.

~

“Wow, I can’t believe you survived such a thing.” Gawked a bit after the story concluded.

Bernard smirked at Lawrence before his fingers lightly grazed the braised skin of the scar. “Me neither. I didn’t want to kill them, but they left me no choice.”

They both looked at the clouds, painted by the faint orange light of the sun as it began to disappear entirely behind the horizon.

“Apologies if my way of fighting…brought back some bad memories.” Lawrence expressed his regrets, sheepishly looking over at the humble knights.

“On the contrary. I remember telling you that combat is now unpredictable and chaotic. Perhaps I should listen to my own words.” Bernard chuckled at the last part softly to himself, turning to face Lawrence.

“Are you ready to continue?”

“You know it,” Lawrence responded confidently, picking up his blade once more.

Once Lawrence finished training, he decided to explore the mansion’s library, hoping to discover information that could help him find any leads on the vampire investigation.

Opening the double doors, the familiar feeling of being sucked into a memory fragment rocked his body.

~

He suddenly felt shorter and looked down to see that he was only about four feet tall. He couldn’t have been any older than maybe eight or nine years old.

“Lawrence, where are you?”

Aria’s voice called out in the distance as he quickly shut the library doors.

He ran over, picked up a grimoire, and hid under a blanket. A few moments later, the sound of doors opening echoed in the giant library as footsteps approached.

The head maid pulled the blanket off him as he looked up at her, slightly annoyed.

“Master Lawrence! It’s nearly midnight, so you should be in bed. Your mother will be mad when she returns if you’re not sleeping by then.”

She admonished, setting the blanket aside.

“Fine.”

As Lawrence got up, he attempted to hide the book behind his back.

“Oh no, you don’t.”

She plucked it out of his hands as he tried to get it back, but the lack of height proved to be his downfall.

“You’ll get this back when you wake up tomorrow.”

Knowing there was nothing else he could do, he surrendered, slowly walking away and out of the library.

For a few more hours, he tried to get it back until he exhausted himself, at which point he fell asleep in Aria’s lap until morning.

~

“Aria has been there since the beginning for him…” He quietly spoke as reality returned to normal.

A wealth of additional information about the world flooded his head. As the memories of the original Lawrence became more streamlined, he realized that the more he found out, the more he realized the original’s life was very disconsolate.

Shaking off the somber feeling, he walked up and down the aisles, attempting to find anything related to Wyria that would confirm Otto’s statement.

Magic stone-powered lamps, burning within their metal and glass casings, dimly lit up the interior of the library. Looking up towards the second floor guarded by a wooden rail, Lawrence observed the arrays of bookshelves above him.

Luckily, library sections were labeled as he headed towards the “World History” section. There was a subsection labeled for Wyria. With great delight, Lawrence removed the first book and quickly skimmed through it, flipping pages until he found something that made his eyes widen in shock.

“Wyrian beast tamers were responsible for the revolution in spellwork and rituals to control Ostus’s greatest predators…”

He began reading out loud, but the final section slowed his speech as he carefully read it to ensure he understood what he was seeing.

“Many of these mages are known for having a Shadow Wolf as a contracted familiar due to their great magical power and hunting prowess.”

Lawrence’s eyes widened, recalling Sayer’s familiar.

Is it wise to go to the academy now?

He checked his watch, noting that it was now half past ten. The moonlight shone brightly through the tall, slender glass panes of the library.

Lawrence lowered the book, making his way towards the middle of the room, where a large table sat, with some pens, papers, and other unused books.

But the main thing he was looking for sat at the edge of the table, a lone brass cradle telephone resting on the switch hook of a finely crafted wooden base, with a moderate-sized rotary dial on the front.

Approaching it, he ignored the fact that the phone was anachronistic since most technology in this world was advancing at a quicker pace than the Old World would be in this era.

He picked up the brass handset and held it to his ear, spinning the dial to “0” twice. After a few seconds, to his moderate surprise, the receiver crackled to life.

“Operator, how may I direct your call?”

“Exalta Imperial Academy. Disciplinary Office.” Lawrence informed the operator, reading through the book again as he spoke.

“Please hold.”

Lawrence tightened his grip on the handset as he exhaled softly, awaiting a response.

Surely there should be someone at the Committee who’s there.

There was silence for a few moments before the receiver crackled to life again. “It seems there’s no one on the other end. May I direct your call elsewhere?”

Lawrence sighed with disappointment, knowing there was nothing else he could do. “No, thank you.”

He set the handset down on the switch hook, ending the call. He sat at the edge of the table, folding his arms, attempting to think of another way of contacting the Committee to inform them of his discovery, but came up empty.

“Damn it…”