Adalrich Barclay thought of the boy he had fought Trolls, Fire, and Terrorists beside a mere two saint’s days ago. Despite his young age, he faced down all those threats with a stoicism anybody could admire. He did not know the Boy Prince well, or, at all really. But their brief camaraderie had left an impression on the Barclay of Freimark. An unshakeable feeling that Lucien was destined for something great. A faith in that boy to guide Savoy. At that, Adalrich nodded and spoke. “Lang Lebe Lucien.”