From Leona Fontaine, Sentinel: The Murder of Lucaine Pyramides
There was a cold fog on the streets, but Deis was colder; he breathed in the dank as a child might smell deeply of fresh bread. His world revolved slowly in his oddly-angled mind: a world of deluded sleepers, where goodness was always a false and fleeting dream, and evil itself the lesser of two wrongs; and he the only wakeful soul, staring insomniac at the full moon. Forward he walked, ever forward, boots clicking on the cobbles like ratchet gears in a clock, moving ever forward to the time when the alarm would go off, jangling the dreaming world awake.
The night was nearing dawn, inevitably, but when Trenton Deis's mechanical footsteps halted the night halted, too. The night halted, as Trenton Deis entered the tiny apartment, coldly glared at the fragile flame of the single candle, coldly glared at the fragile-looking woman who sat motionless on the bed. Her hair, dark beyond night; her eyes, frozen beyond winter; her smile, warm as a heart. Her name was Castomira Brangwin, and she was not thought exceptional.
"Who?" Deis asked.
"Catarin," she replied.
"How?"
"Beyond hope of resurrection."
"She is well guarded."
"Eliminate the warrior first. His betrayal demands it."
"Five hundred thousand pieces of gold," he said.
"Done."
The night began again, and then the dawn began, and then Trenton Deis began.
From Lina Stalfos, Stories of the Past, for Children
Once upon a time, in the great Selucarian Empire, there was a great king called Valerias. Valerias was wise and strong, and he had a sport spot in his heart for his two children. Valerias's son was weak and foolish, even though he was a man, and Valerias's daughter was strong and clever, even though she was a woman. And Valerias often laughed, "Has any man ever had such unusual children?" The son was named Mycale, and the daughter was named Catarin, and King Valerias loved them both.
One day, King Valerias became very sick and died. And Mycale and Catarin were very sad. They were sad because their father was dead. They were sad because their mother joined the Church as a nun, and left them all alone. And they were sad because nobody knew which one of them should be the new ruler of the Empire. Mycale was a man, and usually men become king instead of women. But many people thought that Catarin was a better person than Mycale. They said that Catarin was smart and pretty, unlike Mycale who was foolish and ugly, and that Catarin did good things, while Mycale did bad things.
And they were right. But other people wanted Mycale to be king, because they thought that since he was foolish he would let them do anything they wanted. One of these people was named Lucius Errikale, and he was one of the snake-people, even though nobody knew it then. Lucius was the Duke of Seleucar, and so he was the highest of the lords, and so many of the other lords obeyed him, and helped Mycale. Another was named Castomira Brangwin. She was the Duchess of Aster Malik, which was a tiny province to the north of the city. Even though she did not have much power as a noble, she was secretly the leader of the people who wanted Mycale to be king. Duke Lucius was in love with her, and so was Prince Mycale, so they both did everything she told them to.
Catarin did not want to be a queen. But she knew that if Mycale were king, he would do small bad things, and the people who controlled him would do large bad things. So she got help from her father's prime minister, Orin Grandier, and she tried to convince all the other lords that she should be queen.
Lord Lucius told the other lords that if Catarin were queen, she'd keep them from doing what they wanted to. So some of the other lords called Catarin an outlaw, and threatened to have her killed, and not very many lords wanted to help her. It was very bad. The lords who wanted Mycale to be king moved to one side of the city of Seleucar, and the lords who wanted Catarin to be queen moved to the other, and they both gathered armies. Everyone thought that soon the two sides would fight.
And then a man named Lucaine Pyramides came suddenly to Catarin and drew out his sword.
From The Sealed Files of Castomira Brangwin
The poetry is gone.
When I was younger, I remember writing stanzas and quatrains, staves and verses. I channeled the blaze of my emotions into paper and ink. I wrote to make spirits soar, or sink. I wrote to free myself of the feelings that were too big for me . . . when I felt I would explode with joy, or with sadness, or with anger, I would write.
And now the poetry is gone. And soon I feel I will explode after all . . . with hatred.
There is something blocking the window of my soul, fouling the chapel of my memories. There is something that holds my hatred inside. Nobody can store this much emotion . . . can they? I can feel myself transforming, and I'm terrified. And my fear makes me hate her more.
Catarin. Perfect Catarin. Lovely Catarin. Brilliant Catarin. We were nearly sisters. We played together. We learned to dance together. We went to the same exclusive school, giggled over the same boys. And I would give anything, suffer anything, for the privilege of torturing her to death.
And I don't know why. That is what frightens me more than anything else. Logic is breaking; falling away into madness like a calving glacier. I'm changing.
I broke diamond today. I reached for my grandmother's ring, to put it on, and when I closed my fingers around the stone, it crumbled. I'm changing.
The noon light is growing painfully bright. I wear a broad hat and a dark veil. People ask if I'm in mourning. "The sun is very bright," I tell them. "It's raining," they reply. I'm changing.
Now that the king is dead, my chance is near. I can dominate Lucius so effortlessly that he doesn't realize I'm doing it. My will moves through him. And I dominate Mycale, as if that is difficult at all. In his quest for justice, Lucius will help me bring about the greatest evils I can imagine, and I relish both the irony and the prospect. I never even visited the Chamber of Deliberation until a year ago, and now I toy with the fate of the kingdom like a Carnivalis idly twitching a puppet. I'm changing.
There is a man in Jaru named Lucaine Pyramides, who is said to have the most deadly sword on Sapience, and who will fight any battle for the right price. I have sent for him. I will order her head on a silver platter, with a silver cup to catch her blood. The thought of her clotted veins dangling below a stump of neck is delightful to me. I'm changing.
I hate Catarin. And I would put my hatred down in verse, create words with enough emotion to clear the emotion from my own heart, and be done with it. And I can't. I'm changing.
And I'm afraid that soon, I won't be scared of that anymore.
Lucaine Pyramides, Catarin (Poem 1)
A random encounter
A failure of fate
My cut has been countered,
My sword turned away.
I was a wolf.
Am I now a dog?
Lord Damen Kephry, An Open Letter to the Guild of Knights
Most noble compatriots, warriors of the Guild of Knights; most honored Nobility of Seleucar and its kingdoms; and all the diverse People of this great Empire;
It is with the greatest Concern and Sadness that I apprehend the current Events taking place within the walls of Seleucar. That we, the great Guild of Knights, who have for so long been an Example to both noble and commoner alike of Honor and Chivalry, should fall to such Depths that our inner differences should become matters of Public opinion is a disgrace of the highest order. Lord Drago, are your concerns truly of such Urgency that you felt compelled to distribute handbills throughout the Market Square detailing your grievances? And Lord Rani, despite Lord Drago's breach of Etiquette, is it truly needful to consider breaking the Guild's long-standing Friendship with the Church in such a Spectacular fashion?
The Guild of Knights has the most Noble origins of any private order. Where the Templars originated from the Church's need for self-defense in its earliest days, and where other warrior Organizations (such as the detestable Serpent-Lords) were established sheerly for Profit or Debauchery, or for purposes of individual Training and Meditation, the Guild was formed by Private Citizens for the inestimable goal of preserving the Empire, and forever defending the Honor of its Monarch. In the absence of a clearly-defined Monarch, are we to fall apart into warring Factions?
While the Templars incorporated the sacred Devotions into their martial discipline, we of the secular Knights mastered the arts of Falconry, and instructed the Templars in its use, to the great Benefit of the Common Folk. Are we to cut off all ties with the Church now, simply because it refuses to Involve itself in the Succession?
The founding Master-Smith of the Guild perfected the intricate power of Blade-Fire, which requires the most disciplined and exacting of Training. If we should collapse into Chaos, who shall carry on that Martial Tradition? Shall we allow it to die out, until it is merely a vague memory in the minds of our eldest citizens?
Lord Rani, your speech of Secession from the ways of the Church is convincing. As a Secular order, composed of private warriors, we should not bend so easily to the Requirements of the Church. I submit that the Church's goals should be as one with ours in this Time of Trouble, but your opinion has Merit. However, your treatise encouraging Knights to embark on Study of the Arts of Darkness is a true abomination. I pray that it does not influence the generations of Warriors who may come after us, for surely Evil's pull will be as strong five hundred years hence as it is now.
But this matter of moral alignment is Insignificant in light of our True Peril: we have succumbed, my brothers and sisters. We have Surrendered to Politics. Even now, some fear to enter the Guild Castle, for fear that a fist-fight will occur between supporters of the two honorable Claimants to the crown. Although I have a personal Preference in the matter, I will not air it. Instead, I must beg all of you: let us remain true to our Code! Let us defend the Empire, not help Destroy it! Until such time as open Civil War occurs, let us remain aloof. Let us not pour oil upon the Flames. For if open war becomes reality, and the Guild splits into warring camps, surely it will never recover.
Respectfully,
Lord Damen Kephry
Public Security Document #3551, Seleucar Imperial Guard
Item 1. Lord Errikale has expressed a wish for more compassionate treatment of the serpent folk. In deference to his wish, which certainly must be based on wisdom higher than our own, I command that torture and decimation be used against serpent folk only in punishment for First Order offenses.
Item 2. Wartime demands more exacting standards of conduct. In order to better control the populace, all Third Order infractions will henceforth be punished as Second Order crimes; Second Order crimes will be punished as First Order crimes; and First Order crimes will be punished by death. The impartiality of the judicial system will in no means be compromised, however! All sentences MUST be countersigned by at least one other oath-bound member of the Imperial Armed Forces, or his nominated representative.
Item 3. Swordsman Lucaine Pyramides, though briefly attached to our forces as a mercenary, has betrayed King Mycale, and has joined Catarin's usurpers. Therefore, he has been enemied, and is to be attacked on sight whenever he sets foot in any lawful area of the city. This notice countermands any previous orders.
Item 4. I have made perfectly clear that I will tolerate no rumors among the men regarding the supposed private entertainments of King Mycale. Our ruler is a shining example of noble rectitude and propriety. The recent disappearance of local youths is due to the cannibalistic tendencies of the Catarin-led betrayers, and has absolutely no connection to King Mycale's frequent times of meditative solitude. Any talk to the contrary will henceforth be punished with public lashing and execution.
Item 5. A sortie into the Imperial Palace will commence at 4 am on Friday. Those of you who have been selected to volunteer will receive notice two hours before the mission.
That is all.
Maxim Everhardt, Captain of the Guard
Lucaine Pyramides, Catarin (Poem 9)
A thousand lives I've cut like fragile thread
And sent a thousand souls to last reward
For when my sword is drawn I am the chooser of the dead.
Three Moons, whose strokes a thousand widows grieve
Has drawn its sacred circle all my life
Where all who enter perish, save they enter by my leave.
But once, I drew that circle in the air
And what has been a sacred place of Thoth
Became a ground of worship to azure eyes and golden hair.
Blade, idolatry of death, replaced
By foolish love and foolish loyalty
My bandit's honor, ruthless reputation, now disgraced.
For when I drew my sword to take her life
I glanced into her eyes and saw a way
To justify my anger, redeem my love of strife.
From Leona Fontaine, Sentinel: The Murder of Lucaine Pyramides
For Lucaine, a black fate: love without daring. He polished his poetry the same way he polished his sword, with endless precision and passion, consistent caution. But while his sword held his word, his words had no edge, he was certain. To show her a poem of his… to confess his feelings… to leave himself defenseless. And which carried his soul now? His sword or his pen? Though he fought for her in a hundred battles, his true war was with himself, over the course of a hundred poems.
For Lucaine, a black fate: fire without warmth, only burning. He knew her for one year. He wrote one hundred poems. He won her heart without believing it… he lost his last battle, lost in passion.
For Lucaine, a black fate: a hopeless dream, a helpless death.
| <<previous | next>> |