Chapter 3: The Burden of Greatness

The next day started like any other for Lucien Nightshade. As he stepped out of the front door of Nightshade Manor, the vast estate sprawled out before him, with immaculately kept gardens and fountains that whispered of his family's immense wealth and status. A black Bentley waited for him in the driveway, his usual ride to school. His father, Henry Nightshade, Duke of Kent, was rarely home, always off handling business or mingling in high circles of power, but the weight of his expectations loomed large over Lucien.

Inside the Bentley, Lucien remained silent as the car pulled away from the estate. His mind, sharp and calculating, was already far ahead—focused on the dual life he had to maintain. At Harrow, he was the model student: intelligent, disciplined, and effortlessly charming when needed. But beneath the surface, he harbored ambitions that far surpassed the realm of academics or aristocracy. He would carve his name into football history, but he would do it on his terms.

When they reached Harrow, Lucien stepped out, adjusting his navy blazer, the school's crest glinting on his chest. Harrow was prestigious, an institution built to mold England's elite, but for Lucien, it was merely a distraction from his true goal. As he entered the school gates, he felt the usual stares. Some were out of respect, others tinged with envy. He knew what they saw—a flawless heir, poised for greatness in whatever field he chose. If only they knew.

Today was like any other day—lectures, discussions, and moments where Lucien's mind wandered back to the pitch. However, in his usual detached manner, he navigated the day's classes effortlessly. He was polite to the teachers, reserved with his classmates, and kept his distance from the usual cliques of Harrow's highborn students.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Lucien was already on his way to the Fulham training grounds. His driver, punctual as ever, waited to whisk him off to the place where he could finally breathe—the football field. As the car sped towards Fulham's academy, Lucien closed his eyes and let his mind race ahead to the challenges awaiting him. Today, the academy had arranged a practice match against West Ham's U21 squad, a chance for Lucien to test himself against tougher opposition.

Fulham Academy: A Taste of the Future

Arriving at the academy, Lucien could feel the excitement in the air. The West Ham U21 team was formidable, known for their physicality and high press. But Lucien wasn't worried; if anything, he relished the challenge. His footballing mind was a step ahead of most, always strategizing, always looking for ways to exploit weaknesses.

In the locker room, the atmosphere was tense. His teammates were buzzing with nervous energy, but Lucien remained calm, methodically lacing up his boots. He was the captain, the one the others looked to for leadership, and he wasn't about to let them down.

"Right, lads, listen up!" Coach Harris barked as the players gathered around. "West Ham's no pushover, but we've got the talent to take them. I want high energy, quick passes, and keep an eye on their number 6—he's a tough one. Lucien, you run the show. I want you pulling the strings today."

Lucien nodded. He knew exactly what needed to be done. As the team took to the field, he felt that familiar surge of adrenaline. This was where he belonged.

The match started fast, with West Ham pressing aggressively, but Lucien quickly took control. Positioned in his classic number 10 role, he orchestrated Fulham's attacks with a grace that seemed effortless. His first few touches were immaculate, and within minutes, it was clear he was the best player on the pitch.

Midway through the first half, Lucien received the ball in midfield. Two West Ham players closed in on him, but he barely flinched. With a fluid motion, he performed a Marseille turn, leaving both defenders spinning as he burst forward. His vision was razor-sharp, and he spotted his teammate making a run down the right wing. Without looking, Lucien sent a perfectly weighted pass into the path of his teammate, who crossed it back into the box.

Lucien didn't hesitate—he darted into the box, meeting the ball with a powerful volley that rocketed into the back of the net. The crowd erupted.

He didn't celebrate like the others. Instead, he stood there, calm and collected, his arms outstretched as he soaked in the moment. The look of indifference on his face spoke volumes—this was expected. Scoring was routine for him now.

As the game progressed, Lucien continued to dominate. His dribbling left defenders trailing, his passes split open the opposition's defense, and his leadership kept Fulham's shape intact. By the end of the match, Fulham had won 3-1, with Lucien scoring twice and assisting the third goal.

"That's how it's done, lads!" Coach Harris shouted after the final whistle, his eyes full of pride as he looked at Lucien. "Nightshade, you were phenomenal out there. Keep this up, and it won't be long before you're moving up to the first team."

Lucien gave a curt nod. Inside, though, he felt a surge of satisfaction. He was edging closer to his ultimate goal, step by step.

A Glimpse of the Future

Later that evening, Lucien found himself back at Nightshade Manor. His parents were still abroad, as always, so the grand house felt eerily quiet. Lucien didn't mind. Solitude was where he thrived, where he could think clearly.

He sat in his room, the walls lined with trophies, awards, and a large portrait of him from his earlier years at Fulham's academy. But his gaze was fixed on his laptop, where he was watching footage of past matches—World Cups, Champions League finals, and iconic players from decades past. He studied them meticulously, knowing that he was destined to surpass them all.

His thoughts drifted to the future—playing in the Premier League, captaining England, winning the World Cup. He could see it all so clearly. But there was still much to do, and he would have to play his cards wisely. Fame, fortune, and football greatness were within his grasp, but Lucien Nightshade was not someone who acted impulsively.

He would rise to the top, but on his terms. He had the templates of Maradona, Zidane, and Ronaldinho to guide him, but his journey was his own. The footballing world had yet to witness the storm that was coming, and when it did, it would be too late to stop him.

For now, Lucien closed his laptop, leaning back in his chair. Tomorrow would bring another challenge, another opportunity to prove himself.

And Lucien Nightshade, Earl of St. Andrews, would be ready.