Redemption of the Lost Noble

The snow-white hair sat up on his head, suspended in the air. Even though there was no wind, it seemed to roll in the current of the atmosphere.

“Where… is this?”

The man could not comprehend the sight before him.

“I… had just died. Why am I here…? In the woods?”

“It is a trivial concern in the grand scheme of things, Sir Draven.”

Draven’s eyes widened. A man sat on a log, warming his hands by the fire. His eyes reflected the flame, and the flame reflected his eyes. It was indefinite which of the two had more depth. His voice was that of someone that had been raised carefully, speaking the tongue of intellect.

“Draven?” The snow-haired man walked over to the man by the fire.

“That is your name now- or rather, it always has been.”

Draven looked at the man, whom had not removed his gaze from the flame.

“Who are you?”

“I am Lagniappe- the Director of the play.”

Draven blinked.

“You’re a director of some play? Why am I out here? Is this the afterlife?”

“No, Sir Draven. It is akin to an intermission. I am discussing the future of the play with one of my most dear Actors.”

“Actor?” Draven rubbed his chin. This man had been speaking in riddles from the beginning.

“To put it simply, I am the Director of this play. You are my actor, a lead character- one most vital to the story. Your name is Draven, and I believe that you can fill in the rest, no?”

‘Draven?’ The only Draven he had heard of was a character from his favorite series of books.

“This is crazy… You are talking nonsense…” Draven started to walk away in frustration. Lagniappe, without removing his gaze from the flame, snapped his fingers.

“W-…” Draven could not get the words out of his mouth before falling on his ass. The landscape around him, the forest and dirt beneath his feet, had morphed instantaneously. He sat on an invisible plane, suspending himself in space. Draven could not speak. His heart raced like never before.

“It’s… beautiful…”

Never in his meager life had the man expected to be blessed with seeing such a stunning sight. He stared at the stars, which were like bright crystals in the sky. A meteor crossed his vision- grabbing his attention for a few moments. Eventually, the meteor had come so close that it was passing over Draven’s head. Despite the astronomical amount of force, he felt nothing but bliss and calm as it passed. Lagniappe, who was now sitting on a throne atop the invisible plane, continued to look at the flame. He spoke.

“This is the Theatre. We have always been here, since the beginning. I had wanted you to see it at least once before imparting on your duty.”

Draven looked at the man. So many things, which were all completely inexplicable to him, had happened in such a brief amount of time.

“You are an Actor- the most important character in the cast, no doubt. After all, a strong villain is pivotal in the story of a hero.”

“So, I am a villain? Why can I not be a hero?”

“Heroes, villains… The only difference between the two are the perceptions of the masses. One villain is a hero to some, and one hero is a villain to others. All things- morality included- are a spectrum, and human nature is largely incapable of distinguishing the imperfections of one without assigning misleading labels.”

Draven listened intently. At this moment, he could do nothing else.

“Sir Draven, I will give you some advice. My beloved antagonist, after all, deserves honesty- even more than the protagonist.”

‘Advice? About how I am to live as Draven?’

“You will not remember this conversation, but if you engrave my words to your heart, you will act according to them. You ARE Draven, and you always have been- long before you committed suicide. Even if you do not understand, you MUST live as Draven. He is you, and you are him.”

“Actors that put on poor performances are punished accordingly.”

The last sentence by Lagniappe was cold.

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

Lagniappe, with his gaze still fixated on the crackling flame, did not reply for a few moments. Then, with a mischievous expression, he spoke.

“Act.”

Lagniappe snapped his fingers.

.

.

.

“How… How could you do this, Draven?!” An older man dressed in gaudy clothes roared.

‘Huh? Draven…?’ The snow-haired man looked at his hands in confusion.

“What is going on here…? This doesn’t make any sense…” Both of his hands had burn scars, but the man had no memory of ever being burnt in his life.

“Draven, I’ve had it! You drink all day, indulge in your earthly desires while leaving everything to your brothers and sisters. Have you no shame?! Show some pride as the son of the Night Family!”

Draven realized that he was on the ground with broken glass that smelled like alcohol. Suddenly, his head pulsated. He gripped his forehead out of reflex. The intense pain was accompanied by a wave of memories of a man that were not his own.

“Draven Night?” This was incredible. Was it a dream?

Draven Night, according to his vast knowledge on the subject, was a lowly noble of the Night Family in his favorite series of books. These books, however, were mysterious. They were published by an author that had never revealed his face or given an interview. The incredible popularity of the series fueled fans to try to reveal the truth about the author, but there was seemingly no information available. This mystery only aided the ascension of the series. Strangely, the final book of the series kept being delayed. Eventually, fans surmised that the author had died before finishing his story.

Fourth son of the Night Family, Draven was a pathetic waste of space. His handsome face, which was his only redeeming quality, was perpetually flushed from the extraneous amount of alcohol he consumed every day. In addition to alcohol, he had become a known user of Dream Crystal. This form of Magic Crystal gave the user an intense high with strong visions. The addiction had plagued the entire continent and was one of the leading causes of death. More importantly, Draven Night was a stepping stone destined to be killed towards the beginning of the series.

“An addict to Dream Crystal and an alcoholic to boot. Clean yourself up by tonight’s family meeting at dinner. I have news about the direction the family is going to take. If you show up drunk or high, I won’t hesitate to throw you in the dungeon. As a matter of fact, don’t leave this room until it’s time for the meeting. If you do, there will be consequences.”

The older man, who’s dark brown hair had shown no signs of aging, turned and exited the door. The maid that had been watching from the side with a worried face slowly walked over to Draven.

“Lord Draven… I’ll prepare some tea.” She extended her hand to offer to help him up.

“Don’t bother me, Cornella. I need to think about some things.”

Cornella nodded her head in slight surprise before taking her leave.