The Imperial Academy.Subterranean Level 4 - Advanced Martial Arts Gymnasium.Mid-Afternoon.
The revelation hung in the cold, cavernous air of the gymnasium like a suspended executioner's blade.
Maleficent Vincenzo Faery.
Rudeus stood frozen, his fingers still digging fiercely into the pristine fabric of Amanda's shoulder. His mind was a tempest of colliding realities. The name 'Vincenzo' was an impossible anchor, a phantom tether connecting the tragic, fictional mother of this cursed body to the warm, loving mother he had lost in the Seattle Dungeon Break in his past life.
"Tell me!" Rudeus screamed, his voice cracking, tearing through the silence of the underground facility. He shook the Head Maid, his crimson eyes wild, desperate, and pleading. "Tell me more about my mother!"
Amanda looked at the trembling, desperate boy. The cold, analytical mask of the Deathstalker softened for a fleeting fraction of a second, replaced by a look of profound, genuine pity. She gently, but firmly, placed her hands over his, prying his fingers off her uniform.
"I am deeply sorry, Young Master," Amanda sighed, her voice dropping to a somber, apologetic register. "That is all I know."
"What do you mean, that's all you know?!" Rudeus practically growled, stepping back, his hands balling into fists. He felt as though he were starving and someone had just snatched a loaf of bread from his hands.
"You are one of the highest-ranking executive officers of the Night Ravens, the Emperor's personal intelligence network! Your spies are everywhere! So tell me!" Rudeus demanded, pacing like a caged animal. "Tell me how a fallen noble from the Clovius Kingdom—the treacherous Eastern Region known to be the absolute hardest domain to enter because of its primordial dragons, and the deadliest kingdom to leave because of its covetous Witches—somehow ended up as a lowly concubine in the Rosania Empire?!"
"TELL ME!" Rudeus screamed again, his voice echoing off the shock-absorbing walls, raw with a decade of borrowed grief and sudden, searing personal attachment.
Amanda stood perfectly still, weathering his emotional explosion with the calm patience of a stone facing a storm.
"I am sorry, Young Master. But I speak the absolute truth. That is truly the extent of my knowledge regarding her origins," Amanda said, her slate-grey eyes looking at him with a sad, unwavering certainty.
"The intelligence blackout surrounding your mother is absolute. If you truly wish to know the intricate details of her past, the specifics of her capture, or her life in the North..."
Amanda crossed her arms, her expression hardening.
"You should ask your father, Lord Raemond Blackfyre. Or, alternatively, his first wife. The Duchess Iverika."
Rudeus stopped pacing. He glared at her, his chest heaving.
"After all," Amanda continued smoothly, "His Imperial Majesty the Emperor and Lord Raemond are the only two men alive who know the exact political mechanics of why this marriage between you and the Princess was arranged. But regarding the life and death of Maleficent Vincenzo Faery... Lady Iverika is perhaps the only person on this continent who knows the full, unvarnished truth."
Amanda let out a heavy, incredibly tired sigh. She looked away, staring into the dark corners of the gymnasium.
"Because, after all... she suffered the exact same horrifying fate and experience at the hands of Lord Raemond that your mother did."
Rudeus exhaled sharply, the fight momentarily draining out of him. He ran a trembling hand through his sweat-dampened green hair. He hadn't expected Amanda to hit a brick wall regarding intelligence. He had assumed that trading the identity of a Demon General would unlock all the secrets of the universe. Yet, it seemed that even the all-seeing Night Ravens were blind when it came to the absolute, sealed inner sanctum of the Blackfyre Duchy.
It didn't make logical sense. The middle name 'Vincenzo' was too specific. It was a statistical impossibility.
"Sigh... in short, you are telling me that my mother, and the First Duchess, were both outright kidnapped by Raemond, right?" Rudeus asked, his voice returning to a cold, flat cadence.
Amanda nodded slowly. "Yes. Though, as I said, that is the absolute limit of what I can verify. The Duchy's internal security is impenetrable. Even the highest nobility in the Imperial Court remains completely ignorant of the truth regarding your mother's true identity as a Witch, and they know absolutely nothing about Lord Raemond's violent abduction of both Lady Iverika and Lady Maleficent. To the world, they were simply political matches and fortunate romances."
"Then can you at least tell me why she is officially classified in your files as a 'fallen' noble?" Rudeus pressed, his tactical mind trying to piece the lore together. He was deeply confused because absolutely none of this intricate backstory had been featured in the game's canonical lore. "If she was from a powerful Witch family in Clovius, how did she fall so far that she ended up wandering into Rosania territory to be captured?"
Amanda touched her chin, her eyes narrowing as she mentally retrieved the highly classified foreign intelligence dossiers.
"Ah," Amanda murmured, the pieces clicking together in her own mind. She finally figured out how to explain the geopolitical context the Emperor had briefed her on years ago.
"Well, you are aware of the massive civil war that tore through the Clovius Kingdom roughly two decades ago, correct? Back before the current sovereign, King Dracarys, took the throne, when he was still merely a prince?"
Rudeus nodded slowly, relying on the original Rudeus's rigorous aristocratic education regarding continental history. The Clovius Civil War, known as the 'Dance of Ash and Scales', was a legendary conflict.
"Well, the Clovius Kingdom suffered catastrophic losses from the inside. They were locked in a constant, bloody war caused by a schism within the royal family itself," Amanda explained, pacing slowly across the training mat. "Prince Dracarys fought a brutal, scorched-earth campaign against his older brother—the one who initiated the rebellion to seize the throne, believing himself to be the 'true and rightful heir' by ancient draconic law."
Amanda paused, looking directly at Rudeus.
"The Faery family—your mother's bloodline—was one of the oldest, most venerated noble houses in the East. They were a famous family of Witches. And... they made a fatal political miscalculation. They threw their entire military and magical support behind King Dracarys's older brother. They backed the rebels."
Rudeus's crimson eyes widened. The geopolitical tragedy was taking shape.
"The war raged for five agonizing years," Amanda continued, her voice grim. "But ultimately, Prince Dracarys won. He crushed the rebellion, slaughtered his brother, and was crowned the undisputed King of Clovius. And because his brother lost, the entire rebellion force, including the Faery family, was subjected to a merciless purge."
Amanda folded her hands behind her back.
"They were punished with mass executions, stripped of their titles, and their lands were salted. For those who were not deemed immediate threats—the extended family members who didn't directly participate in the fighting, but still carried the Faery name—they were punished with permanent, agonizing exile. One of those exiles, cast out into the freezing wilderness without wealth or protection... was your mother, Lady Maleficent."
Rudeus swallowed hard, picturing a beautiful, green-haired woman wandering through a blizzard, stripped of her home and her family.
"Though, as far as my intelligence reports indicate, Lady Maleficent didn't just wander into the Rosania Empire by accident," Amanda revealed, stepping closer. "She arrived at the northern border, specifically in the war-torn territories where your father's forces were engaged in endless, bloody skirmishes with the Arendelle Kingdom."
"What was she doing in a warzone?" Rudeus asked, his brow furrowing.
"She was offering salvation," Amanda said softly. "She was performing her magic. She was finding the mass graves and the battlefields, and she was actively giving peace to the tortured, lingering souls of both the Arendelle soldiers and your father's fallen Vanguard. And that sheer, breathtaking display of unique, potent magic... is exactly how she caught the predatory attention of the Grand Duke. That singular act of mercy led her directly to her ultimate demise—the exact same horrific fate that the Duchess Iverika had suffered years prior."
"Ultimate demise?" Rudeus repeated, the phrase catching in his throat like a jagged bone. "What exactly do you mean by 'ultimate demise'? Did he kill her immediately?"
Amanda sighed, a look of profound disgust crossing her usually stoic features.
"What I am meaning to convey, Young Master," Amanda said, her voice dropping to a harsh, disgusted whisper, "is that she was hunted down, violently kidnapped, and forcefully bound as his concubine. He raped her, broke her spirit, and imprisoned her, subjecting her to the exact same continuous, horrific abuse that the Duchess suffered from him."
"Do you really think that Lord Raemond—with his famously 'stoic' and 'honorable' public persona—is not fully capable of committing such atrocities in the dark?" Amanda asked, challenging Rudeus's worldview.
'I mean, in the game, he is literally presented as a stoic, emotionless, 'Neutral' type of person. A stern but fair military commander,' Rudeus thought inwardly, feeling a surge of absolute nausea. 'But clearly, that was only the public face he projected to the Empire.'
"Your father is a profoundly cruel, deeply sick man, Rudeus," Amanda continued, deciding to tear down whatever illusions the boy might still harbor. "Though I only received this specific, highly classified intel directly from the Emperor's private spymasters..."
Amanda grimaced, her upper lip curling.
"He is a monster driven by absolute, depraved lust on the inside. As I heard from one of my most deeply embedded sleeper agents within your Dukedom... before you were even born, this spy witnessed how Raemond cruelly 'played' with both your mother and the Duchess. He broke them for sport. And after he was done 'relieving' himself and inflicting his twisted desires upon both of them, he would immediately, callously summon my spy and the other terrified maids to clean the fluids, the blood, and the mess from his chambers, and from the broken bodies of your mother and the Duchess."
Rudeus stopped breathing.
He clenched his hands so tightly that his fingernails pierced the skin of his palms, drawing fresh blood. A wave of white-hot, apocalyptic anger washed over him. It wasn't just the residual anger of the abused child whose body he occupied. It was the fury of a man who cherished the memory of a mother named Vincenzo, hearing that a woman who shared her name had been subjected to unimaginable, systematic torture.
To think that a man so utterly, irredeemably despicable existed, and was universally praised as the 'Shield of the North'.
"What is worse," Amanda continued, her voice tight with suppressed anger, "is that even though I know for a fact that the Duchess, driven entirely mad by jealousy and pain, was the one who ultimately poisoned your mother... she is just as much a prisoner. The Duchess cannot leave the Duchy. She cannot attend any Imperial balls or social functions unless it directly involves you and your siblings as a show of familial unity. Lord Raemond is pathologically obsessive and violently possessive toward his 'acquisitions'."
Amanda lowered her gaze.
"He imprisoned them in the deepest wings of the estate. I only heard this through whispered rumors, but the reason why the Duchess—who is an unparalleled expert in the Dark Arts—and your mother—who was an expert in guiding and resting the souls of the dead—could not simply use their immense magic to fight back or escape, was because of Lord Raemond himself."
"What did he do to them?" Rudeus asked, his voice barely above a guttural snarl.
"He cursed them. He bound their mana cores," Amanda revealed. "By forcefully learning the Dark Arts directly from the Duchess through torture, he devised a curse that locked away their ability to utilize their own magical reservoirs against him."
"Did he... did he also force the Duchess to teach him the very curse he used to bind them?" Rudeus asked, his mind reeling at the sheer, calculating sadism of the act. He took a deep breath, trying to compartmentalize the horror. He needed to focus on the magic. "And another question. When you said my mom was an expert on resting the souls of the dead... does that mean my mother's specific magical art was Necromancy?"
Amanda answered his first question with a grim nod. "Yes. I bet my life he tortured the foundational theory of the curse out of her, and then used it to collar them both like dogs. Though—"
She shook her head firmly regarding his second question. "Though it might be lazily categorized as 'Necromancy' by the ignorant scholars and the religious zealots of our Empire... her power was emphatically not Necromancy. It was a completely different, far more sacred concept."
Rudeus raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Explain the difference."
Amanda shook her head again, gesturing helplessly. "I cannot. I truly do not know the theoretical mechanics behind it. The Witches of the Clovius Kingdom guard their proprietary magic with their lives. Their magic doesn't reanimate corpses to fight; it pacifies the spiritual unrest of the fallen. If you truly, desperately want to know the nature of your mother's lineage and her power, Young Master, then I highly recommend you travel to the Clovius Kingdom yourself one day."
She offered a small, reassuring smile. "Though, you should not worry about border politics on that front. Since the end of their civil war, the Clovius Kingdom and the Rosania Empire have maintained very friendly, open diplomatic relations."
"I see," Rudeus nodded slowly, absorbing the vast quantities of lore.
'That will have to wait, then,' Rudeus plotted inwardly, mentally rearranging his grand itinerary. 'First, I will completely disappear from this academy. I will fake my death, cross the northern border, go to the hostile Arendelle Kingdom, and save Rosetta from her tragic destiny. Then, maybe, after finishing that massive undertaking... my second journey will be to the Clovius Kingdom to uncover the truth about Maleficent Vincenzo. It works out well, considering Clovius and Arendelle share a border and are currently allied.'
The silence in the gymnasium returned, broken only by the hum of the lighting crystals. The heavy, emotional weight of the revelations settled over them both.
Amanda smoothed her apron one final time, her professional demeanor completely restored.
"Oh, before I forget the mundane details of our arrangement," Amanda said briskly, changing the subject entirely. "You should not worry, Young Master. I have already dispatched a subordinate to the commercial district to purchase a high-quality replacement for your shattered mirror. It will be installed in your suite by this evening."
She reached into her apron and pulled out a small, metallic token inscribed with the Academy's crest.
"And regarding your nocturnal pass for this subterranean gymnasium?" she asked, holding the token up.
"I will officially notify you tomorrow morning when you can finally begin your training here. I need to process the bureaucratic exemption papers and forge the necessary faculty signatures to officially allow you to bypass curfew and train here at night without raising alarms."
"Really?" Rudeus asked, his eyes lighting up with genuine relief. The plan had actually worked.
Amanda nodded, a small, professional smile on her lips confirming the good news.
Rudeus didn't say 'Thank you'. He didn't bow.
He simply pushed himself up from the padded floor, his legs trembling violently from the brutal, two-hour physical beatdown he had endured. He groaned, popping his stiff neck, and began to slowly limp toward the massive tungsten doors.
"No 'thank you', Young Master?" Amanda asked teasingly, calling out to his retreating back.
Rudeus stopped, glancing back over his shoulder. His crimson eyes glinted with a mixture of exhaustion and cynical amusement.
"You nearly slit my throat, kicked the absolute shit out of me for two hours, and then dropped a traumatic lore-bomb about my mother being a kidnapped, abused prisoner," Rudeus smirked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You absolutely do not deserve a 'thank you' right now."
With that, Rudeus pushed the heavy doors open and dragged his battered body out of the gym, raising his hand to offer a lazy, two-fingered wave over his shoulder as a gesture of goodbye.
Amanda stood alone in the center of the massive arena, watching the heavy doors grind shut behind him.
She shook her head, a genuine, highly amused laugh escaping her lips.
"A Blackfyre will always remain a Blackfyre, no matter what happens, huh," Amanda mused aloud to the empty room.
But as she turned to leave, a profound sense of anticipation settled in her chest. For the first time in years, she felt that the stagnant, rotting politics of the Empire were about to be violently shaken up by the boy everyone thought was a joke.
***
One Day Later.Male Dormitory, East Wing - Suite 404.07:00 AM.
-DING DONG!
The enchanted, melodic chime of the suite's doorbell echoed through the quiet rooms.
Rudeus groaned, rolling over in his incredibly plush bed. He was sore in places he didn't even know he had muscles. Amanda's "cardio" lesson had left him feeling like he had been trampled by a herd of stampeding minotaurs.
He threw the heavy duvet off, forcing his stiff legs over the edge of the bed. He dragged himself across the Persian rug, unlocked the heavy oak door, and pulled it open.
There was no one in the hallway.
However, resting neatly on the polished silver serving tray affixed to the wall beside his door was a thick, cream-colored envelope, sealed with the heavy, crimson wax crest of the Imperial Academy.
'This must be the letter for the curfew exemption,' Rudeus thought, a triumphant smile breaking through his morning grogginess as he picked up the envelope.
He closed the door, walked over to his mahogany desk, and grabbed a silver letter opener. He carefully sliced through the wax seal and extracted the thick, high-quality parchment.
He unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the ornate, overly formal calligraphy.
[ROSANIA ROYAL ACADEMY
Office of Student AffairsGrand Hall of AdministrationRosania Royal Grounds
OFFICIAL LETTER OF EXEMPTION AND SPECIAL PRIVILEGE
To: Rudeus Maximilian Blackfyre
Title: First-Year Student of the Rosania Royal Academy
Esteemed Rudeus Maximilian Blackfyre,
By the absolute authority vested in the Office of Student Affairs, and under the official, unbreakable seal of the Rosania Royal Academy, this letter serves as a formal declaration of exemption and special, highly restricted permission granted exclusively to your person.
After careful, extensive consideration of your current academic standing, your immaculate conduct record, and your recently expressed, passionate dedication toward rigorous physical training and disciplined self-improvement, the Academy Administration hereby officially authorizes you to access and fully utilize the Subterranean Royal Gymnasium facilities during extended hours well beyond the standard student curfew.
Specifically, you are hereby legally permitted to train within the designated gymnasium premises during the nocturnal hours, up until precisely five o'clock in the morning (5:00 A.M.) standard Imperial time.
This unprecedented exemption is granted in direct recognition of your stated commitment to strengthening both your mind and body—qualities that are highly valued and historically venerated within the martial traditions of the Rosania Royal Academy. The faculty acknowledges that certain advanced training regimens and personal martial disciplines require absolute solitude, unconventional hours, and uninterrupted focus that cannot be achieved during standard operating periods. As such, this privilege reflects our utmost confidence in your ability to exercise aristocratic maturity, responsibility, and restraint.
However, this authorization is not without its strict conditions.
You are unequivocally expected to maintain punctual attendance in all of your scheduled morning classes, theoretical lectures, practical spell-casting sessions, rigorous examinations, and official academy obligations. Under absolutely no circumstances shall this extended, nocturnal gymnasium access serve as a valid justification for tardiness, absenteeism, diminished academic performance, or the neglect of your assigned scholastic duties.
Continued possession of this rare privilege is entirely contingent upon your consistent academic diligence and your unwavering adherence to the Academy's comprehensive code of conduct.
Furthermore, you are entrusted with the solemn responsibility to:
Ensure the gymnasium and all utilized equipment is left in an immaculate, orderly condition after each and every use.
Refrain entirely from causing any auditory or magical disturbance to the other students or faculty staff residing in the upper wings during late hours.
Respect all training equipment, Academy property, and automated magical security protocols currently in place within the subterranean levels.
Comply immediately, and without question, with any instructions or directives issued by the Academy Royal Guards or senior faculty members on night patrol duty.
Should any verifiable violation of these outlined terms occur, this exemption may be subjected to immediate review, temporary suspension, or permanent revocation at the sole discretion of the Academy High Council.
This physical letter shall serve as your official, tangible proof of authorized access. It must be carried on your person at all times and presented immediately upon request by any security personnel, prefects, or faculty staff during nighttime hours.
The Rosania Royal Academy extends this unique privilege with the highest expectation that you will embody the discipline, honor, and excellence befitting your noble name and your standing within our hallowed halls. May your nocturnal dedication forge not only strength of body, but also absolute clarity of purpose and steadfast, unyielding character.
Issued under the official Imperial seal on this day, by the direct order of the Academy Council.
With formal regards,
The Office of Student AffairsRosania Royal Academy
"Through Discipline, We Rise." ]
'Damnit, why do these aristocratic bureaucrats always have to make everything so obnoxiously, painfully long?' Rudeus complained inwardly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a mild headache forming just from parsing the dense, flowery legal jargon.
'Well, ultimately, the word count doesn't matter. What matters is that I finally have official, iron-clad permission to use that subterranean gym in the dead of night without getting expelled.'
Rudeus carefully folded the thick parchment and placed it securely into the inner breast pocket of his blazer. It was his golden ticket.
He took a deep breath and stretched his aching arms wide, his joints popping in protest.
He turned toward the corner of the room. Standing exactly where the old one used to be, was a brand new, beautifully crafted, full-length gilded mirror. It was even more ornate than the one he had shattered.
'Well, I certainly have to thank Fiona and Maria for dragging this heavy thing all the way up here and setting it up,' Rudeus thought, checking his reflection to ensure his cravat was tied correctly.
He adjusted his collar, his crimson eyes locking onto his own gaze in the glass.
'Though, regarding Amanda...'
Rudeus smirked, a sharp, incredibly confident grin spreading across his face.
'Yeah, she still doesn't deserve a damn thank you.'
He turned away from the mirror, grabbing his satchel off the armchair. The path forward was finally clear. The first, incredibly dangerous hurdle had been cleared.
"Well, I've got to get ready and endure the torture of today's classes," Rudeus said aloud to the empty room, his voice brimming with a newly ignited, fierce determination. "Because tonight... after the bells toll and the halls go dark... I can finally start tearing my muscles apart in that damn gym!"
He walked toward the door, his hand resting on the brass handle.
"Let's do this! Step one of my grand master plan—"
He threw the door open, stepping out into the morning light of the hallway.
"—Success!"