Wonder Child (Scion Origin Story)

Sorry for the delay on this one, had it ready to go but then was at PAX and the hotel wifi did not want to play nice with my computer. As always, written with communication with GGG to make sure lore is consistent. Here's the Scion!

Previous Stories:
Templar - https://www.pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/1403133



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Wonder Child
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For my eighth birthday, my parents gifted me an anatomy kit. It contained a scalpel, its blade razor sharp. It contained a small diagram of the various muscle groupings, interesting details highlighted in dark red runes. It contained a quantity of acids and crudely blown glass beakers, along with suggestions on tests to determine the various humors contained within different parts of the body.

They also gifted me a slave upon which to practice, a captured villager from the Karui isle.

She was an older woman, hair gray and knotted, wrinkles lining her weathered face. A series of tattoos adorned her arms and upper body, twisting tribal marks describing her lineage and birthright. I preserved them carefully when I took them off, scraping remnants of flesh away from the layer of skin, and then stretching the tanned hides on homemade frames until they dried, just as Mother taught.

The history of a people, written on life, extracted with death, mine to study whenever I desired. Oh, how my parents celebrated. Their beautiful, glorious child, already an advanced student of the haematological arts.

A perfect scion of Theopolis.

Other slaves followed, young and old alike, more gifts from Mother and Father. My thirst for knowledge was unquenchable, a ravenous hunger driving my every waking moment. I wished to understand, understand it all - the interplay of vein and artery, the delicate details of cartilage, the subtle whispers of nerves passing messages to brain.

It was one of the few things that could make me forget the nightmares.

Oh, to be sure, there were other distractions. Countless balls and dances at other Great Houses, Mother my constant chaperone in her frilled lace and icy stare. Dutifully I let the boys spin me upon the parquet floors, but Mother let no thought of dalliance enter my head. We were a proud House, an ancient House, and I had been raised with a full understanding of my responsibilities.

In the labyrinthine power struggles of Theopolis, marriage was a tool, a threat, and often a weapon. I would play my part, as generations had done so before me, but it would not be for love. It would be for the glory of our House, the survival of our ancient name. Mother was very clear on that from an early age, and I... I was the greatest student Theopolis had ever known. I could do naught else but learn.

Other days were filled with study of blade and book, both lethal in the hands of a skilled practitioner. The swift lunges of Oriathan fencing, the ponderous smashes of Karui maul-dancing, the delicately vital incisions of Trarthan wristblade combat, all intermingled with studies of Victario, Voll, and the Mad Emperor Chitus. There was no skill that eluded my gaze, though my attention inevitably waned short of mastery.

It did not matter. Even short of mastery, I still surpassed Theopolis’ finest, and all knew it. The common folk of the streets whispered whenever I passed by, royal blue doublet separating me from the filth just as the sky soars far above the earth. Other noble members cast envious glares in my direction, but dared not more than that. They knew I was protected. Long before, Mother and Father had pledged their fealty to a man with no equal, and to go against his will was to defy God’s chosen representative.

The High Templar Dominus, lord and master of Oriath.

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I first met Dominus at the tender age of fifteen. He had just reappeared after a decade long expedition to the lost continent of Wraeclast, and the Great Houses were abuzz with rumor. None had expected him to return alive, though none dared usurp him until news of his death was certain. Until that point, he had been the darling of the Great Houses, the one man in Theopolis capable of uniting our fractious tribe of wealth.

That changed remarkably quickly upon his return.

It was a gala the likes of which I’d only seen described in Victario’s ancient writings, one Mother begrudgingly allowed me attendance. I had grown restless under her restrictions, new emotions surging through my adolescent body, and her endless expectations chafed at my soul. I was a student of life, knew the tiniest mechanisms by which it worked, but I felt a gap in my knowledge. Something missing, an important piece by which all other pieces were definied. I needed to feel life, not in the clinical dryness of the dissection chamber, or the stuffy hotness of a tutor’s chambers, but in the heated rush of the personal now.

I hungered for the late-night trysts whispered amongst my contemporaries, the stolen kisses in lush gardens under the pale light of Lunaris, the awkward fumbling of fingers intertwining. I wanted to speak with someone, not of lessons and theories, but of trivial inconsequentialities, and hear their whispered murmurs in return.

I dreamt of forgetting my nightmares, the chittering voices and twisting runes that plagued my sleep, the one field I felt no desire to master.

Above all, I wanted to get away from Mother, and her stifling routine of study that consumed my every waking minute, though I made sure not to reveal my true reasons. Instead, I utilized the skills she insisted I hone over the years - logic, rhetoric, emotional appeal and dissembling guise. The battle was hard fought, but when I beheld the scene of the night’s festivities, clad in my royal blue dress, I knew it had all been worth it.

The Grand Arena, that towering shrine to valor and death, had been transformed into a vision of old Sarn, a small columned temple rising from the center of the sandy floor, crystal clear water flowing around it in a temporary moat. White plaster facades covered the stepped seating rising along the amphitheatre, furthering the illusion of a small village looking down upon holy ground. I walked along the terraces as if in a dream, lit by the multi-hued glow of flickering torches. They burned at regularly spaced entrances, their color signifying what attendees could expect to find within. Blue for refreshment, green for carnal desires, red for more... esoteric pleasures.

It was within one such crimson abode that the High Templar and I made our acquaintance, Mother glowering from her chaperone’s perch in the corner.

“See how she gently separates the upper subcutaneous layer from the muscle beneath. Such is the mark of a master haematologist. And in one so young... remarkable. What do you think, Piety?”

I looked up from the gently twitching body of the slave, annoyed at the intrusion. Behind me stood a tall man in red trimmed white robes, arms folded across his lean chest. His face was unassuming, but his eyes carried the fire of a thousand suns. Beside him was a quite comely woman, her face obscured by a strange half helm. Beneath it, her features twisted into a pout.

“I could do better, my lord. This stripling is like a thumbless butcher quartering a calf. We waste our time here.”

I frowned. I knew my work was beyond reproach.

“Pardon, my lord, my lady, but there are other rooms, should you desire their comfort. As you can see, I am occupied.”

He did not smile, but his eyes shone even brighter for a moment.

“And devoted to her craft as well! Truly, this child is a marvel. Come, I must speak with you in less... soiled quarters. About the marvels of the body, and more.”

I could sense Mother’s frown, and the helmed woman, Piety, looked askance at him.

“Are you sure this is wise, my lord?”

“It is God’s will, Piety,” he responded simply, then extended a hand to me. “Come, child.”

I stared at him, unsure who could maintain such a level of confidence, that his desire was to be treated as command, but intrigued by the suggestion of power.

“Who are you?”

“I am Dominus. Now follow.”

And so I followed. I had no other choice.

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The rest of that night remains vivid in my memory. How could it not? It was a night dreams are made of, though whether those dreams are in reality nightmares depends solely on the perspective of the viewer.

We entered the temple at the center of the Arena, its open vastness filled with assorted members of the Great Houses, finely brocaded silk draping their fleshy corpulence, and lithely muscular officers of the Ebony Legion, dashing in red and black uniforms. Dominus introduced me to their General, a middle-aged man with liquid brown eyes and a small series of scars stretching above his right brow. His name was Gravicius, and he spoke at length of fearsomely wonderful sights witnessed on Wraeclast, that savage land.

Another soldier stood next to him, captain’s bars flashing along his muscled breast. He was Gravicius’ second in command, a man named Corelius Tempus, an older son of one of the other Great Houses. He gazed at me through heavy lashes dyed a striking shade of blue, more spiky blue hair bristling along his scalp, and offered me firewine with a dancing smile. I accepted, though I kept my eyes lowered just as Mother taught, and let him preen his feathers in the way that men do. In return, I promised nothing, but hinted at everything, and as in all other ventures, my skills were unparalleled.

An hour or so later, after leaving them, both issuing proclamations of their undying affection, I bumped into another man clad in the uniform of the High Justicar and briefly introduced myself. He stared at me silently for a moment, a dour expression on his face, bald head gleaming under the flickering light, and then he stalked off without a word, ridiculously garish pantaloons swishing as he walked. I still do not know what I did to offend him so, but I remember Mother referring to him as the Tyrant of Justice, so I put him from my mind. What care did I have for an obdurate old man whose laws could not touch me?

It was around midnight that I found myself alone in a corner with Dominus, the once crowded room dwindling as those in attendance drifted off to satiate other needs.

“Tell me, child,” he said in that beguiling voice of his, “what is it that drives you to such heights of scholarship? What embers burn beneath that pale skin?” A calloused finger traced the outline of my cheek.

I blushed, aware of the firewine in my veins, the now muted torchlight suffusing the pavilion with an ethereal luminosity. At first I thought to say the obvious answer, that it was Mother’s will that drove my countless hours of research, but it was then that I realized, for the first time in my life, that there was something more. Something uniquely mine. A shield against the darkest hours of early morning, when the shadowed whispers grew loudest.

“Life,” I breathed out, barely sounding the word. “I want to understand.”

“As do we all, child,” he replied, eyes locking onto mine. “The power to make, the power to unmake, and the power to choose. At the core of it all, life.”

I hesitated, wanting to contradict him, but unsure of doing so. He did not understand. I steeled my nerves, and committed myself to fate.

“No, my lord. I want to understand why. Why do we draw breath, move from the tiniest seed to a collection of muscles and organs and bone? Why does the globe pass through the heavens like a masterly assembled clock? Why does any of this exist at all, for what purpose? We see the interplay of blood and vein recreated in the flow of goods and traffic - is the world itself alive? The ancient texts speak of empire; Voll and his Purity, Azmeri, faint rumors of one even older. Why do they fail, and if they are naught but reflections of the world as a whole, what does it mean for us here on Oriath? If I can but understand that, then...”

I faltered, then, breathless, unwilling to share the secrets of my dreams, even to him. Looking back, that may have been my only salvation in a life potentially bereft of grace.

He let his hand fall back to his side, but the light never left his eyes. If anything, it grew more intense.

“...beautiful. I cannot imagine a more potent ally, or a more dangerous foe. Child, you are everything God spoke to me of, and together we will work miracles the likes of which this world has never witnessed.”

It seemed that storms crackled behind his face, a dark lightning I could fall into forever with no hope of escape. I felt myself plummeting, drowning in those whispering depths, and then he glanced to the side and the spell was broken.

“But the hour grows late, child, and your mother weary. Attend her, and we will speak upon the morrow.”

I did not want to leave, but once again, the choice was not mine. Flushed, bewildered, exhausted, I followed Mother out to our palanquin and soon the rocking motion of the slave-carriers lulled me to sleep. As always, the nightmares accompanied me.

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Dominus remained true to his word. The next day, he called upon the summer villa in which we currently resided, inviting me to study at the Grand Archives the Templar Order maintained in Theopolis - a resource heretofore unavailable, even to a House such as ours. I begged Mother to accept, pointing out the benefits to my education and desirability as a suitor, and reluctantly, she agreed. Reluctantly, as I was the only one allowed into the Archives - a small crack in the armor of her omnipresence. Gratefully, I hugged her, shocking us both, I think. It is the only physical contact I can remember engaging in with her.

Soon my days fell into a routine - maintenance of my martial disciplines in the morning, a brief bath and lunch to freshen up, and then a palanquin ride to the Archives, where I would frequently stay late into the night, devouring text after text, searching for the elusive threads that would connect the world’s tapestry for me. Karui slaves brought me refreshments as needed - tender rambutan slices, seared strips of spiced meat, chilled carafes near overspilling with water and wine - Dominus’ writ ensuring utmost obedience.

It might have been the happiest time of my life.

It was during one of those lengthy sojourns that I met Captain Tempus for the second time. A lone candle illuminated my table, stacks of crumbling scrolls scattered over the scarred and pitted oak. I was trying to reconcile a second-hand account from a contemporary of Victario, known as the People’s Poet, though few of his works had survived to our time, with one found from a much earlier time, near the founding of the Eternal Empire. Both spake of beasts that moved without life, implacable monstrosities capable of felling even the strongest man.

Both spake of corruption, shadows, the scrabbling whispers in the dark.

I was jotting down notes on one of the many sheets of paper lying around for the purpose, when a shadow fell across my page. Annoyed, I looked up. A dancing smile below blue-dyed hair greeted me.

“My lady. I thought it was a candle lighting this dismal bleakness, but I see now it was your radiant face.”

“Captain Tempus. It is a pleasure to see you again. Perhaps you might move to the side, so as not to obscure my light?”

I thought I saw a darkness flit across his eyes, but dismissed it as a trick of the dim illumination.

“Of course, my lady.” He moved to stand behind me, one hand resting on the back of my chair. “What is it that you work so diligently upon?”

“Ghosts of the past,” I responded, returning my gaze to the two scrolls. “There is something... something hidden on Wraeclast. I can sense it, lurking beneath these crabbed words and spidery runes. Are you a scholar of history, Captain?”

“Only middlingly, my lady. I prefer the more combative spheres myself.”

“Nevertheless, look here, and here.” I motioned to my notes. “It is not just this obtuse description of Victario’s writings, nor the nameless author of this other ruined piece. Here, in Icius Perandus’ Treatise on Civilization, he speaks of the ‘Tears of Maji,’ and their inevitable corruption, though details remain frustratingly vague. Here, another fragment from Icius, detailing ‘a darkness that swept the land from the Cradle,’ but again, we have no details. The bones we build upon, I fear they may be those of a being inimical to life.”

“I have seen those bones, my lady,” he said slowly, a strange tone entering his words. “Our expedition - you have heard of it?”

“Of course. I doubt there is a person in Theopolis who hasn’t.”

“Ten years we were gone, in a land thought long forsaken by God. Hideous beasts stalked its shores, the very flesh of nightmare given birth, and it grew worse the further inland we traveled. I questioned the High Templar back then, questioned his wisdom, his judgement. Watching the soldiers under my command die to horrors I could have never imagined back here in Oriath... I tell you true, my lady, it was a test of faith the likes of which few men endure. But then...”

His voice turned... rapturous. There is no other word to describe it.

“But then, Dominus, he showed us the miracles. Miracles of flesh, miracles of mind, miracles of spirit. Oh, that I could describe to you what he found.”

“Why can’t you, my lord?” I asked.

His voice changed, the awe leeching out like faded dye in a threadbare shift.

“It is not my place, my lady. Should Dominus deem you worthy, you will know.”

Instantly my curiosity was piqued.

“Am I not here under Dominus’ writ? Do I not search for that which he has declared important? I beg of you, my lord, tell me what you witnessed.”

“Say that again, my lady.” Hungry words, ravenous. If only I knew then what I know now.

“I beg of you, my lord.”

His hand landed on my neck, not heavily, but the pressure still dug into my muscles.

“Would that I could, my lady, but there is naught I can do without Dominus’ permission. Mayhaps, were we to know each other better, that permission might be granted.”

I tensed inwardly, registering what his words implied, but then remembered Mother’s lessons. Everything, a weapon.

“My lord, the hour is late, and I must be getting home, lest Mother worry. Were you to call upon me in a week’s time, however, I am sure there is much you could show me of the city, and much I could learn from a man of your esteemed talents.”

The hand lingered on my neck, then slowly drifted away.

“Of course, my lady. In a week’s time.”

And thus began my courtship with Captain Corelius Tempus.

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Mother approved, of course. The Captain was a member of the Great Houses, positioned to inherit well, and a decorated military officer no less. A marriage would bind Tempus House to ours tightly, our children beneficiaries of ever more increased power and influence. In addition, though she didn’t say it, I knew we needed allies wherever we could find them.

After his return, Dominus was rapidly eroding his support among the Great Houses.

Much of it was due to the increased troop levies, more and more soldiers needed for followup expeditions to Wraeclast, to secure whatever mysterious goals he pursued on that wretched continent. The Great Houses saw it as a means of weakening their power and strengthening that of the Order, particularly since Dominus would tell no one of his plans. Our fate was intertwined with his, courtesy of that unspoken bargain Mother and Father agreed to so many years ago, and were he to fall, our descent would be as swift.

Thus, I convinced her that my courtship was of political necessity, and in truth, a small part of me recognized that necessity, and did not mind. The greater part of me, however, allowed the Captain to pursue me because of the knowledge he possessed.

He was the key to what I desired above all else, or so I told myself. Whatever it was that Dominus had discovered on Wraeclast, I needed to know. The lack of that knowledge ate at my attention, like an abscessed tooth, and it was only through the most diligent application of will that I was able to continue the charade of my daily life.

Years passed, courtship in Theopolis a drawn out affair, the Captain frequently away on mysterious affairs he would only hint at to me, much to my frustration. We attended the occasional ball, dancing the night away, but always retreating to our separate Houses at evening’s end. We strolled through carefully cultivated topiary mazes, fantastic creatures seeming to leap out at us from every corner, but Mother’s unbending gaze kept us from all but the most chaste displays of affection. We spun about each other, two stars slowly spiraling inward while the long years passed, and all I could think of was the day we would finally merge. The studies I would finally have the information to pursue, the mysteries I would solve.

Throughout it all, I continued my other disciplines under Mother’s watchful eye, her demands for perfection never unwavering. Bow, sword, scalpel and quill, my constant companions in summer villa and winter retreat, until one day, everything changed.

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I was at the slave market, seeking new specimens for my table on Mother’s orders, though I have to admit there was little left to learn at this point. Line after line of Karui stretched along the uneven cobbles, all clad in nothing but a loincloth, even the women. Their upper arms and shoulders lay bare of tattoos for the most part, these being bred slaves of Oriath, not islander natives, though there were some few of those captives scattered here and there. The clean shoulders of the slaves reflected their lives - blank, dull, meaningless. These Karui were born, lived, and died in Oriath, and as such, had nothing worth recognition.

The sun beat down on my own bare shoulders, warming the deep blue of my summer dress, and the stench of the city hovered over the slave market like a physical force. I grimaced inwardly, angry at Mother for making me continue this charade of study when there were far more important matters to spend my limited time on. I had mastered haematology as a child, but Mother was insistent.

How ironic it was, that her insistence led to all this.

It happened while I was walking along one of the lines, the slave-master hovering obsequiously at my side. His constant prattling was not improving my mood, but then, as if from a dream, I heard the rough tongue of a non-native speaker.

“Mistress. One converses you.”

Shocked, I looked over at who had dared address me. One of the Karui straightened from his crouch, shackles clinking as he rose. He was a brute of a man, near two full heads higher than I, muscles rippling along his torso and arms like waves upon the sea. Chains draped his entire body, but he moved as if they were naught but gossamer. Beneath them, rivers of ink flowed across his skin, more than I had seen on any one person before.

The slave-master sprang forward, whip in hand, and I forestalled him with a curt gesture. This slave’s tattoos spoke to me, what few I could read, so like the normal Karui tattoos I knew, yet somehow... different. The story they told was not the normal drudgery I had seen countless times before.

No, this Karui was of warrior stock, forged in the fire of a hundred battles, and I marveled at the sheer ferocity he displayed, even chained as he was.

“Hold your lash, slave-master. I would speak with this one.”

“Are you sure, my lady? We barely received this shipment a month ago, yet he has escaped multiple times already. The last time, he crushed a guard’s head with his bare hands before he was subdued. I cannot guarantee your safety.”

“I am a scion of Theopolis,” I sneered at him. “I will guarantee my own safety. Now begone, you sniveling cur.”

Chastened, he retreated back to the small hovel that served as his quarters and office. I looked at the Karui, calculating how to approach such a savage, and it was then that the revelation hit me.

Though I knew the inner workings of their kind to the utmost detail, I knew next to nothing about them as a people. What were their motivations, their desires, their urge towards life? I thought I could read their tattoos like scrolls in the Archives, but what were the stories behind this warrior’s dark ink strokes? I could speak their language, but what were the secret words hidden within his mind and spirit, so different than the others?

It struck me that while I considered myself educated, in truth, I had examined only one side of a coin. How can one understand life purely through study of the caged? How can one grasp beauty through contemplation of merely the mechanical? Did I truly know the Karui at all?

I made up my mind to pursue a different course of study, one Mother surely would not approve of.

“Tala moana, warrior,” I greeted him, and nearly laughed at the surprise on his face. “You wish to converse? Of what shall we speak?”

“How is it that you know the People’s tongue, little one?”

“I have conversed with many of your people, warrior.” I did not mention the circumstances under which those conversations took place, as I felt it would merely upset him. “What is a man like you doing here?”

He sneered.

“You think me a slave, merely because I wear shackles? Pah. These wretches are the true slaves, cowering behind their fear.” He spat at the feet of another Karui, who hastily averted his head, seeming to shrink in upon himself. “See? They have forgotten how to live, forgotten the Ancestors, trapped on this pitiful island of stone and blood.”

I was intrigued. I had never heard one of the Karui slaves speak in such a fashion before.

“You feel no kinship with them? Are they not of your tribe?”

His eyes flashed with anger.

“Do not insult me, little one. I am a son of Ngakuramakoi. These are worthy only of Kitava’s dark blessing.”

Something scratched at my mind, like seeing the first spoor of a particularly evasive beast. A mention of dark blessings... could it be? Did the Karui have knowledge of what I was seeking all along?

“Ngakuramakoi, Kitava... I have not heard of them. Who are they?”

He smiled ferally.

“Release me, little one, and I will tell you.”

“I could simply purchase you and make you talk.”

Mocking laughter.

“I told you, little one, I am not like these slaves. You cannot make me do anything. I will die first.”

“Very well. Slave-master!”

The slave-master came running at my shout, whip tucked into his rope belt next to a jangling ring of keys.

“Yes, my lady?”

I handed him several coins, five times what his best price for the slave would be.

“I am purchasing this one. Give me the key to his chains.”

“My-my lady?”

“Have what little wits you once possessed deserted you? Give. Me. The. Key.”

“At least let me fetch the traveling irons, my lady. For your own safety.”

“I told you, my safety is my concern. Give me the key and take your fear elsewhere.”

Hesitantly, he unhooked a key from the large ring on his belt, and then ran off, calling frantically for the city guards. I watched him go, then spat deliberately on the ground, much in the same fashion as the Karui. Letting my own smile edge my lips, I turned to him, key in hand. He regarded me impassively.

click

“There. Now tell me what I wish to know. It is important.”

He did not respond immediately, slowly shrugging his way out of the myriad metal links crossing his body. It reminded me of drawings I had seen of volcanos birthing their way up from the sea, the implacable thrust of fire and stone. Finally, his massive body now unencumbered, he cracked his neck and looked at me, expression fierce.

“Foolish little one. So confident. So arrogant, just like the rest of your miserable people. You wish to know of Kitava? Then meet him yourself!”

Upon uttering the final words of his sentence, he swung a heavy fist at me, but I was already moving. I ducked beneath the blow, feeling the weight of its passing stir my hair, then carefully drove my fist into his lower back, directly above the kidney. He grunted, then spun on his feet, surprisingly agile for such a large man.

“You are quick, little one, but your strikes bite like fleas. A true warrior does not fear pain.”

He came at me again, this time arms spread wide in a crushing embrace. My own smile grew, and I slid between his legs, careless of the damage to my dress. Reaching the other side, I snap-kicked back, buckling one of his knees, and then sprung up, driving my fist into the same spot as before, twice this time. He growled and rolled away, climbing back to his feet, now favoring his right side. Blood trickled down my right leg through the tattered scraps of my dress, but I ignored it.

“Were you not listening, warrior? I am not like the rest of my people! You are not the only one who does not fear pain. Now, tell me what I wish to know.”

He didn’t respond, anger radiating from his craggy face. I smiled even wider, and settled into a Trarthan unarmed stance, left foot slightly forward, weight balanced on the balls of my feet. He advanced toward me in a low crouch, arms held wide, his hands broader than my head. I let him close the distance, reading the interplay of muscles beneath his skin, watching his nostrils flare with each indrawn breath. When his pectorals tensed, I was ready to move.

Even so, he still almost caught me. Had he not been in chains for hours previously, I do not know that I would have made it out alive.

His rush came quickly, like a striking snake, completely at odds with his earlier lumbering advances. I spun past his grasping hand like a top, knowing that to be trapped was to die. Several strands of my hair caught between his fingers, before ripping free in sharp bursts of pain. His follow up kick I deflected away from my midsection, my hand stinging like I had slapped a piece of granite, but then I was behind him once more. Three times I struck him, then, my clenched fist descending like lightning, once again targeting that same spot over his kidney.

He dropped to a knee, involuntarily, coughing up blood, and I did not hesitate. Quickly, I grabbed one of the chains from the cobblestones and leapt onto his back, wrapping the cold metal links around his neck. I tightened it almost to the point of crushing his trachea and leaned down, my mouth next to his ear

“Make your choice, warrior. I set you free from your chains. I upheld my promise. Tell me what I wish to know, or I will kill you myself!”

His back rumbled beneath me, like a small earthquake, and I realized he was laughing.

“Ancestors guide me, little one, but you were born in the wrong body! With a hundred like you, I could return the Karui to a glory even Kaom himself would envy.”

I tightened the chain, the metal digging deeper into his skin, and he waved a hand, gasping.

“Very well, little one, I submit. You have bested me, a blooded son of Ngakuramakoi, and I will not shame the Ancestors. You have my service.”

“Good.”

I let the chain loosen, and rolled away from his back. Groaning, he flopped over and lay on the cobblestones, hands unwrapping his almost noose in small twitches. I wanted to lie down as well, adrenaline shudders shaking my legs, but to show weakness in Theopolis invited death, or so Mother taught, and so I walled the pain away. It was at that point that the slave-master returned with a squad of Templar guards.

“You see! The brute has... escaped... what?”

I waved a hand imperiously at them.

“Everything is under control. Do not worry about me and my property. I’m sure there are other areas of the city that require your attention.”

The slave-master stammered and fell silent, his mouth agape. The guards stared back and forth between me and the Karui giant, their wide eyes taking in the unmistakable signs of our battle, then crisply saluted and jogged back up the street. I glared at the slave-master until he scurried back to his shack, confusion and shame warring equally across his features.

“Do you have a name, warrior?”

The Karui’s face went dark.

“I am nameless until I kill the man who defiled the Ancestors and destroyed my family. ‘Warrior’ will serve.”

“Very well. Come, we have work to do.”

And thus, I met the man who would alter my life forever.

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Three years passed, the Karui my constant companion to the Archives and expeditions outside the city. I told Mother he was my new bodyguard, a decision she did not take well. She relented, however, with a test. She sent four House guards at him at once. He broke each one’s neck in less time it takes to draw a breath, and thereafter she contented herself with her normal stern disapproval of everything I did.

The Karui and I learned from each other constantly, him the common language of Oriath, as well as fighting styles he never encountered on his island, me the history of the Karui people, their myths and legends, as well as their community and bonds. I ceased my practice of haematology out of respect to my companion, though it was not a difficult choice to make, as I had reached the limits of study available to me on the human body.

He spoke to me of Kitava, the Dark Beneath the World, He Who Feasts, one of the central figures of the Karui pantheon. I recognized commonalities with other accounts I had read over the years, and redoubled my efforts to link together the disparate threads underlying our history into a unified whole, but something was still missing. He spoke of endless corruption, a bargain with the Ancestors to protect the Karui people, and at night, my nightmares continued nonstop, sibilant shadow voices whispering words that promised comprehension if only I were to submit.

I never did.

Several times I asked the Karui of his quest, of the man he was sworn to kill, but that was the one secret he would not relinquish, and so I stopped asking, though I did not forget. Anything that could drive this human force of nature to forsake all other vows triggered my natural curiosity, and I was determined that one day I would solve that mystery as well.

How little did I know that that day was approaching far sooner than I anticipated.

I continued my sporadic meetings with Captain Tempus, though without the presence of my Karui companion. The first time he met the Captain, he warned me of a darkness in his eyes, and called him Kitava’s slave. Nettled, I forbade him from accompanying me when I was with Corelius, thinking at the time he was subject to the same jealousy as all other men when around a woman. Alas, I was a fool.

In my twenty-first season, after close to seven years of courtship, though in truth we had seen each other not more than thrice a year at most, it was decided that the Captain and I should wed, a union approved of by Mother and the High Templar alike. General Gravicius, as the Captain’s deepest friend, would serve as the second for the ceremony, and Dominus himself would oversee the vows.

The ceremony itself I barely remember, aside from a growing thrill that finally I would be able to learn what Captain Tempus had witnessed on Wraeclast. I felt his knowledge was the missing piece to my studies, and that once we were husband and wife, I would at last piece together the puzzle that had grown to consume my every waking moment. The underlying picture was almost within my grasp, its edges hovering tantalizingly out of focus, awaiting that last key to unlock its secrets.

Thus I passed from child to woman.

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I will never forget my wedding night. The hour had grown late, food and wine consumed by guests since departed from our summer villa, where the reception had been held. Slaves were busy clearing the tables, my Karui companion nowhere in sight, when came the moment that would give truth to the vows. Corelius, my husband, looked at me, and extended his hand. I took it and followed him up the stone stairs to our room, not the one in which I had spent my childhood and adolescence, but a larger, separate room.

My heart pounded in my chest as we ascended. At last, I would finally experience the mysteries of the bedchamber, the secrets of life between man and woman. Mother had kept my virtue sacrosanct, and I was more than ready to learn this new lesson. I had seen beasts of the field and slaves rutting, had tutors describe the thirteen different positions of love, of course, but seeing and practicing are two different things.

Two sets of dressers lined the white-plaster walls, a gift from Mother, and a dancing mechanical music box, a gift from Father, sat on the small table next to the oversized bed. Hesitantly, I followed Corelius inside, and he shut the door behind us with a click of the lock, doffing his rich silken cape to the floor.

“At last, my darling, we are alone.”

“I thought the guests would never leave.” Nervously, I slipped off the clinging lace of my wedding dress, leaving just my shift underneath. “What... what do you desire, my husband?”

He turned away from me, fumbling at his belt.

“Oh, many things, my bride, but first I have something to show you. Dominus gave me a wedding gift, something special, to commemorate our union. Would you care to witness it?”

I sat down on the bed, shifting one leg over the other, the night air chill on my skin.

“Is this the time, husband? Can it not wait for the morrow?”

His shoulders shook, and I realized he was laughing.

“Ahh, but this is what you’ve desired since the very first time we met, my lady. The knowledge of Wraeclast. The miracles Dominus revealed to us.”

My heart beat even faster. I did desire the pleasures of the wedding night, but knowledge would always be my first love.

“What is it, husband? Please, show me, I beg of you.”

He turned, keeping his hands hidden behind his back, an odd look upon his face.

“I do so love it when you say that. How you know your place, instinctively. Say it again.”

“Husband?”

He stepped closer, shadows covering his features.

“Beg me. Beg me to hurt you, beg me to stop, beg me to treat you the way you need to be treated.”

I frowned and straightened up, uncrossing my legs. Suddenly, his hand reached out and shoved me down, sending me sprawling onto the bed.

“Yes, beg me, and maybe I’ll listen if you’re convincing enough.”

I nearly swore. This was not how I envisioned spending my wedding night. This was a side of Corelius I had never witnessed at the dances, the long walks through moonlit streets.

Did I truly know my now husband?

“Excuse me, my lord, but I fear you have mistaken me for someone else,” I said in a chilly tone. “We are equals in this relationship, lest you forget.”

His lips turned up, then, cruel, mocking.

“Oh, I have not forgotten, my lady, but it is you who are mistaken. Witness a miracle!”

His hand, kept until this moment behind his back, came forward, holding a fist sized jewel that glowed a sickly green. I stared at it, uncomprehending at first, but then slowly realization took hold.

I had seen jewels like that in my studies, in the histories of the Eternal Empire, and in the warnings plastered across every alleyway and street corner by the High Justicar.

“That... that is a Virtue Gem! Those are forbidden by the Templars, by your Order itself! Where did you get that?”

Corelius chuckled, a nasty sound.

“From Wraeclast, of course. Don’t be stupid, my lady. Did you think Dominus had designs there merely for the weather? No. He has discovered the secret behind the gems, and with it, we will claim our birthright to Empire!”

I felt ill. The High Templar himself, consorting with the powers that brought forth the Cataclysm. How could I have been so blind?

“My lord, it is late. Perhaps we should speak of this in the morning. I feel tired.”

I tried to push myself upright, but he shoved me down again and leered at me.

“Fortunately, your feelings are of no concern to me, wife. You wished to know what Dominus discovered. Well, here it is! He thinks you can be persuaded to join us, but I know you’re too weak. Just like that other whore, Piety. Now beg!”

Light pulsed from the jewel, and suddenly it felt like a thousand knives were cutting into my flesh at once. The pain was overwhelming. I could not help myself. I screamed, a high, piercing sound. Seconds later, minutes, I do not know, the pain stopped, and I opened tear-filled eyes to see Captain Tempus breathing heavily over me, his pants halfway undone, the hideous jewel still held in one hand. Blood ran from hundreds of cuts on my arms to the sheets, staining the pure white a deep crimson.

“Yes... yes, that’s it. Beg for me. Beg for the pain to stop, and the pleasure to start. No one will hear your screams, wife. There is only us and the slaves.”

But that was where he was mistaken. One member of the household was not a slave, though he looked like one to all but mine eyes. With a rain of splinters, the door to the room burst open, my Karui companion outlined in the frame. He took in the scene with a glance, and rage contorted his features.

“Spawn of Kitava,” he rumbled, hands clenching. “The Ancestors witness your corruption.”

Corelius looked startled, but then raised the jewel up and laughed.

“Marauder filth. Dominus always said your kind don’t know when they’re beaten.”

At the mention of Dominus’ name, a wholly unfamiliar expression settled onto my companion’s face. I thought I had seen anger before.

I was mistaken.

Corelius ignored the blood rage now filming the Karui’s eyes, so caught up was he in the grip of the gem. He looked at me, sneering.

“Ahh, yes, your pet Karui. I warned Dominus about this. I told him you had unnatural perversions. He didn’t want to believe me, but I knew, oh yes, I knew. I will enjoy this.”

Light flashed from the jewel once again, and I could almost see the knives fly through the air, impaling deep into my companion’s limbs. He snarled, and then, impossibly, stalked forward, blood pouring down his body. Corelius clutched the jewel harder, and more knives sprang out, carving their way inward. With a groan, the Karui fell to his hands and knees, but still he kept on, crawling fist over bloody fist towards Corelius. Shouting, the Captain extended the gem directly towards his massive form, and I saw the knives homing in towards vital organs. Ugly green light seemed to fill the entire room, casting strange shadows along the walls.

It was exactly like my nightmares.

“No!”

Yelling, I sprang from the bed, grabbing at Corelius’ arm. Distracted as he was, he did not see me until it was too late. We tumbled to the floor, and with a quick twist, I snapped his wrist, dropping the Virtue Gem into my grasp. When it touched my flesh, I nearly fainted.

Knowledge sprang forth in my mind, the infinite possibilities of the gem branching through my vision like ice along a glass pane, chittering voices whispering their secrets to me. I could see exactly what it cost to summon forth the ethereal knives, how they could be manipulated to do my bidding, where they might intersect with other gems to modify their effects, and through it all, the scrabbling claws plucking at my sanity never ceased. My nightmares made flesh, the dark corruption I had been searching my entire life for, now inextricably linked with my mind and body. Groaning, I pushed myself to my feet, tottering unsteadily upright before collapsing back onto the bed, unwilling or unable to relinquish the jewel’s terrible hold upon my psyche.

Across from me, Corelius rolled into a sitting position, cradling his wrist to his chest, pain twisting his features.

“Give it back to me,” he hissed. “Give it back to me, and this can be forgiven. Dominus will explain.”

He prattled on, but I ignored him, dragging my focus elsewhere.

Next to him, sprawled on the floor, lay the Karui, blood pooling around his body. The slightest rise of his chest let me know he was still alive, and I felt relief surge through my body. I could not say why I cared for my companion so, but he was perhaps the only true friend I had ever had. He expected nothing from me other than a warrior’s strength, and after so many years in the twisting world of Theopolis, after so many years of Mother’s lessons, I think I found it refreshing.

I also had an inkling of what his quest was, now, and I wished him success. It appeared both of us had been ill used by the High Templar.

I gathered my thoughts and looked at Corelius, anger vibrating my entire body. The gem pulsed in my hand, once, like a heartbeat. His mouth shut with a click, and he quailed before my expression. In the corners of my ears, I could hear the whispers laughing.

“One does not... treat a scion... of Theopolis... with such disrespect, my lord!”

And then I took him apart, piece by agonizing piece, his screams ringing off the walls until it seemed the entire villa must collapse in on his writhing pain, but I did not let him die until the very end, long after every surface dripped red with his blood.

Haematology always was my best subject, Mother.

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And so I sit in the hold of this ship, awaiting the long journey to Wraeclast. It seems there are some crimes even a Great House is not immune to, after all. My companion has been sent to the fighting pits, though I suspect they will not find him a typical gladiator, whereas I am to be exiled for the crime of murdering my husband. For the crime of survival. Dominus claimed it was to keep me safe from the wrath of House Tempus, but I know different.

My wedding night taught me the truth of Dominus’ lies.

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I only wanted to please you, Mother. I only wanted to learn, to be the best that I could. That’s all I ever wanted. To make you happy.

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We left Oriath last night, and for the first time in my entire life, the nightmares did not visit my sleep. I do not know what it means.

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Goodbye, Mother.

Man, I love this lore short stories that you do. I'm going to finish reading it at lunch and give some better feedback, just wanted to reserve the first response post!

Fantastic. The lore fanatic in me is pleased. I appreciated your take on Oriathan society.

I will now be disappointed if you do not reference the Templar's pants in every tale.

Epic read, Well done mate!

I dig this a lot, very well done! It almost makes me even more bummed that GGG gutted her voiceover lines to be more one-dimensional and borderline-sexist. Her old ones were much more in line with this awesome lore and the tone of this story.

(Here's hoping they introduce a cosmetic shop option to buy the old lines for her and others, so that the players who complained about length of her speech can keep their lore at arm's length while I get my character depth back)

Wheew !! Interesting enough to keep me reading to the end ;O.

Priiti gud c:

"

Xedralya wrote:

Fantastic. The lore fanatic in me is pleased. I appreciated your take on Oriathan society.

I will now be disappointed if you do not reference the Templar's pants in every tale.

That's the plan. This whole thing is basically why the Templar hates pants so much (kidding (not really)) :p

Great read, thanks for the time you take to write these short stories!

Why do posts like this get so little hype?
I just read a masterpiece!

Looking forward to discussing ideas bout poe lore.

Holy hell!

Really well written story, was a blast reading it all.