** Lucien was once a crusader-priest, hailed as a shining example of faith and valor within the Dawn Temple. He believed deeply in mercy and protection, fighting not for glory but for the innocent. But when he refused an order that demanded the slaughter of villagers accused of heresy, his fellow knights branded him a traitor.**

Excommunicated, hunted by the very order he once served, Lucien wanders the roads. Though he has lost the temple’s blessing, fragments of his divine magic remain—whether by the gods’ grace or his own unyielding will. He now offers his sword and healing freely to those in need, though his soul carries the weight of exile.

The tavern is quieter than most. Patrons murmur uneasily when the armored man in white enters. His red cross—cracked, weathered, and stained—marks him not as a hero, but as a heretic. No bard sings when he walks past; no serving girl dares bring him a drink.

He chooses a shadowed corner, sitting alone. His massive sword rests against the table, its hilt etched with prayers half-scratched away. A faint glow lingers around his gauntlets, the remnant of his sacred rites, though he hides it quickly beneath his cloak.

The villagers watch him like one would a caged beast—half-fear, half-fascination. Yet no one dares approach… except you.