Vincent met with few troubles on his way onwards to the royal capital. They were traveling at an extreme pace, set unknowingly by Vincent himself. Vincent lost himself in thought throughout most of the journey.

“If Bell and everyone moved into the capital, I won’t be able to concentrate on anything else but their safety. The capital is a dangerous place, especially when the future civil war commences.” He muttered to himself, hoping he’ll find a solution.

Emet flew high in the sky above scouting in front of their path. It was due to this eager companion that Vincent hadn’t fallen into any surprises along the way. The peaceful countryside had slowly turned from a barren wilderness into thriving farmlands the closer they were to the capital.

“The nobility faction is weaker now because of what Father had done, but this is both a good thing and a bad thing. They are weaker now, but that means they are more volatile. I must get to the faction party and find out what I can.” Vincent silently promised himself.

“On top of that. I need to find people I can trust to protect my family.” It was a strange feeling, having people precious to him. He felt stifled by this new feeling, but also warm at the thought of it.

He didn’t want just trustful people; he wanted people that will jump into a fire pit if told. He wanted loyalty, only then, will his worry be calmed. In the world of Blaze Fantasia, there were many kinds of people, but they were also ambitious. Ambition would breed greed and seed ill-intent. The loyal would already have a master and hard to come by, especially this early in the original novel. However, there was one particular group, said to tear through hordes of monsters with ease and fiercely loyal to the death. There was just one thing about this group that was bad…

“Dark elves.” Vincent murmured, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “If I remember correctly, dark elves are one of the most dangerous races of beings on this continent.” It wasn’t only that; he also remembered that they posed a lot of trouble for the MC later on in the novel. However, their one factor that raised their worth in Vincent’s eye was their intense loyalty to their princess.

Vincent wouldn’t have time right now, but he still had plenty of time before he would need the dark elves, so he put them to the back of his mind. He finally arrived at the gates of the capital city, Gawain. The royal capital was accustomed to a large stream of traffic. Thus it was easy for Vincent to enter without much trouble. The party would begin within three days and then the following week would be the start of the new academic year. Before that, he had to retake an examination, so he was on a tight schedule after the party.

The streets of Gawain was bustling with activity. There were especially more people due to the beginning of the school year and also because Gawain was the central transit hub for many merchants. There was the sea to the west, the spice kingdom in the south, the Sorin Mountain Range to its east and finally, the northern countries passed the Emerald Forest to the north. It was for this reason that even though Gawain doesn’t specialize in anything else but grain, it has flourished enough and soon became the capital of a kingdom.

“Young Master, we have been awaiting your arrival.” A butler bowed with an air of regalness. Even the quality of etiquette in the capital was high. “The Old Master wishes to have a word with you.”

Vincent frowned slightly and said, “I’m tired.” In truth, a trip that would’ve taken about a week, he had trekked in half that time. He felt a bit sorry for pushing his horse so hard, but it was too late to feel regret.

“That is the Old Master’s orders, Young Master.” The butler remained composed and didn’t show any reaction to his complaints. It seemed this butler has known the old Vincent and expected nothing less of him.

“Hm... fine,” Vincent replied after seeing the butler not budge. It concerned him; Vincent remembered the details of the original Vincent’s grandfather, Tidus Redwall. Tidus Redwall, also known as the Ogre of Vernon Valley. He and his troops were the rear-guard that protected the retreating Eidolon army after a failed scrimmage. In that battle he buried an opposing army of 5,000 alive along with half of his own men. Even though he lost over 300 men, he managed to save thousands of lives. He was hailed as a hero by many and a monster by others.

Throughout the original novel, after the death of Vincent, the Redwall house secluded themselves in their territory and refused to participate in the civil war. However, it was because of the Ogre of Vernon Valley that the two armies of the royal and nobility faction refused to wage any battles near the Redwall territory. Right now, the person that would cause two large factions to think twice before crossing the territory border was sitting across from him.

Tidus Redwall, Vincent’s grandfather, was playing chess against himself in the garden pavilion. Vincent had been waiting for his grandfather to speak ever since he greeted his grandfather, but the veteran continued playing his game in silence. Vincent remembered from the original novel that this old man was significantly disappointed in the old Vincent. So more than likely, Vincent was being tested; therefore he stood silently and waited for his grandfather to speak even though he was weary from the long travel.

Twenty minutes later, after black has triumphed over white, his grandfather began to speak.

“You have grown,” said Tidus as he gestured for Vincent to sit. “Care for a game?”

“Okay.” Vincent played white while his grandfather was black. It was a casual game, but because Vincent doesn’t know how to use advanced strategies, his pieces were quickly gobbled up by the black pieces.

“Vincent, chess requires thinking two moves ahead of your opponent,” Tidus said as he dragged his queen all the way across the board to take his bishop.

“That’s quite true,” Vincent bemusedly answered as he took down his grandfather’s queen with his rook.

“The key words in that phrase is ‘your opponent.’” Tidus shot back as his knight replaced Vincent’s rook.

“Checkmate.”

“…”

“Another game perhaps?”

“No thanks.” Vincent stood up and was about to leave when he heard his grandfather repeat once more.

“You have grown.”

---

Vincent continued his daily routine until the day of the party; his routine hadn’t changed even though he had long left the training camp. On the day of the party, he finally took his time to explore the city, well, a part of it.

Vincent was dressed cleanly in clothes that were easy to move in. However, he was walking through one of the more barren streets of the capital, a place that was void during the day but came to life at night: the adult entertainment district. Why was he here so early in the day? Or to be specific, why was he here at all?

“This should be it.” Vincent said as he looked up at the bar sign that read, ‘Drunken Mule’.

The place was cleared out aside from a few drunkards snoring loudly at the booth. He looked around for a bit before a voice called out to him from above, “Pretty boy! We’re up here!” Vincent glanced up and saw a pig-faced youth peering over the second-floor railing. Vincent inwardly shook his head and walked up the stairs.

There was a trio sitting at a table with plentiful food laid around; however, every dish had been dug into, leaving a half-eaten mess behind. At the meal was the fatty from before, a thin and wiry youth with shifty eyes, and a prideful well-built youth with crossed arms. The proud youth was the first to speak because the fatty already returned to filling his already bloated stomach.

“Took you long enough. I bet you were too busy wetting your pecker this morning to remember about your old pals, huh?” The proud youth revealed a vulgar smile before continuing, “Oi! Fatty, stop stuffing your face. Pretty Boy’s here.” He slapped the back of the fatty, causing a mouthful of food to spew out.

Vincent inspected the food-coated chair and decided to pull up another seat from the table nearby.

“V-V-Vince, s-sorry.” The paranoid looking youth spoke first.

“Sorry for what?” Vincent crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow.

“F-for w-what w-w-we did at t-the party.” His eyes were shaking so much that they looked like they were spinning in his socket.

“Shut up, will you?” The buff youth slapped him to shut him up then turned to Vincent, “It’s because of you that I lost all my money.”

The fatty tried to calm down the situation, “Everyone, calm down. Why don’t we settle this peacefully over a meal?”

“You haven’t eaten enough already, Fatty?!” The proud youth stood up and pointed at the fatty who had somehow sneakily grabbed a drumstick.

“L-Lionel…” The paranoid youth also stood up.

Just when the chaos was about to erupt a bitingly cold voice uttered from the calm young man who had remained still the whole time.

“Enough.”

The voice sent a chill down the trio’s spine as they all turned to look over at Vincent. The aura emitted by Vincent had grown more intense than ever before, it screamed: “Obey or Die.” Of course, this was all in the minds of the trio, because of how much Vincent had changed in the past year. Prior to this, Vincent would always try to kiss ass and obeyed all their commands.

The proud youth was the first to speak, “What’s the matter? Haven’t been getting some pussy at camp?”

Vincent seemed to have figured out something, so he asked, “Who is at fault?” His eyes trained on the paranoid youth who shook with fear before pointing at the proud youth, Lionel.

“So what if I drugged you? Without that drug, you would’ve been too chicken to sleep with the Duke’s daughter.” The expression on Lionel looked as if he felt betrayed after doing Vincent a favor. “Plus if you were actually successful, I would’ve been a rich man!”

*BAM!*

“Vincent!” The Fatty stood up as he grabbed a plate and dodged the falling Lionel. Vincent had abruptly spin kicked Lionel in the head, knocking him out cold. After cooling down, Vincent returned to himself.

“V-Vince?” The paranoid youth had somehow ran far away and was peering out from behind the table over.

“Because of him, I nearly died,” Vincent said as wiped drool off his boot using Lionel’s unconscious body. ‘In fact, Vincent did die. He’s no longer here.’ Vincent thought to himself.

“P-please don’t! D-don’t hit me! I had n-nothing to do w-with t-this. It’s all Lionel and Karl’s idea!”

“You *Munch* also placed a bet against him, Samson,” Karl answered between bites.

“HIIEEEK!” Samson shrieked and ducked down.

Vincent looked back and forth between the sorry trio and shook his head and proceeded to leave. “I no longer want to be part of this group. If even you guys set me up, then we shall walk our separate ways.”

The two conscious youths stared at Vincent as he walked down the stairs and handed the tavern keeper a gold coin before leaving. Vincent only came to see what it was that these ‘old buddies’ of his wanted to talk about, but he was sorely disappointed. He had no interest in continuing to associate with them. In the original novel, Vincent had also remained distant from these guys; it seemed this was the reason.

Later that evening was the start of the main show.