by Ismael Alvarez (Exalted | Fiction)
Standing there on the Veranda of my parent’s summerhouse, I watched one of the last and most memorable sunsets I would ever witness. You see, I measure time in events, not some stodgy calendar established eons ago. Instead of years and days marking my minds calendar, the memories of my life lend perspective to my view of time. A final sunset is not the end of all sunsets. It’s the end of a significant time in my life. And twilights approach was that special to me.
And as I sat there, next to my best friend, we laughed and talked about nothing at all. Doing nothing is the best way to spend time. When all you do is nothing, your memories are filled to the brim with vim and fondness. And yet, an apprehension seeps in with pleasant reverie to make the sweet also bitter.
To those who are more in tune with dates and months, it was the last day of Calibration. I suppose when you are a child, the levity of the fateful week weighs lightly. My best friend, Ragara Jarvis, was heading off to House Bells. What strikes me the most about our friendship is that it never wavered or waned much. Despite his exaltation, he never looked down his nose at me, or treated me like an inferior. I was always his friend and equal, Mnemnon Altruicia. Nothing more, nothing less. Or so I thought.
Watching the sun set on creation was our favorite thing to do, and we did that more than any war game or Dynast activity they set us to do. Something about that wondrous globe of warmth settling into its nest at the edge of the ocean sets me at ease with myself. Jarvis always valued its artistic and aesthetic nature more than the spiritual, but that we shared that simple joy of the blue sky’s retreat was enough for me.
Being our last sunset before we were inexorably separated, we tried to avoid speaking of the future. It was an effort in vain, as our thoughts collided exactly at the subject of our careers at the very same moment. It was a sparkling instant in time, the kind of split second where your throat is knotted, and your laughter and sobs are of equal likelihood. I couldn’t tell you with certainty which one gave way that day.
So we spoke about our prospects. As the daughter of a minor house, I would likely grow to be a patrician, and perform some perfunctory duties expected of me by my family. Jarvis had more options and opportunities. He said that he planned to see the world, hunt big game, and slay anathema in his family’s name. I chortled.
“So you will kill devils with your bare hands? You can’t even step on a bug! Maybe they will relieve you of your fears in House Bells,” I said through my chuckles.
He gave me that look that spoke volumes. The look that said, “You went too far” and “I’ll forgive the indiscretion… this once”. It never failed to send me into a fit of laughter that just made him turn his back. That was usually when I knew I went way too far.
“I was kidding. I know you’ll graduate with flying colors,” I reassured him. I knew deep inside that I was speaking somewhat from jealousy. My blood was not as strong.
“You always were a kidder. Put that quick wit to work at all the political salons and parties. You would be a house favorite,” he said wistfully. It was an innocent cruelty. He believed me his equal to the exclusion of that pesky thing called reality. I knew better than to think I could ever be invited to any parties once my parents let go of my hand: a milestone that was soon approaching.
“I suppose. I know its funny to ask this… but what does it feel like? Is your blood hot? Do you feel different from when you were just like me?” I asked, attempting to change the subject, if at least just to shift the attention onto him.
“No different. I’d say you’re more hot blooded than myself.” An empty smile danced wearily across my lips. It was so hard to be angry with him when he was being so nice.
“Jarvis…” I wanted so badly to tell him that I wasn’t equal, that I wasn’t as important, and most importantly that I would never amount to anything… What was the use? I was more frustrated with myself than with Jarvis. There was no need to react to him that way. He wanted to make me feel better. And for that I was thankful.
As I sat silently, he peered inquisitively at me. Perhaps he pondered my hanging words.
“Jarvis…” I finally continued.
“I won’t see you for a long time. Until this point, you have been more important to me than my family, my tutors, or any other stuffy teacher or advisor. But now we will be parting ways. The next time I see you, neither of us will be the same. We may be friends, but on different terms. I just want to say goodbye.” I had finally said it. It was a partial lie.
We would change. He would go on to be a Prince of the Earth. He would see, do, and feel things that I had only dreamed and written about. I would have my future dictated to me by some unfeeling bureaucracy. All of this was true. However, we would likely never meet. And we would certainly not be friends on any level. Of that I was sure.
This was what made our parting so much the harder on me. To bear the pain of knowing my lot, and ensuring that dear Jarvis would not realize the gravity of the situation. It was enough of a problem that he was going to House Bells.
Other than some minor things like bugs, few phased Jarvis. I knew that he was scared out of his wits to go, and that scared me. More than the tangible absence of Jarvis, the prospect of his future worried me as well. Together we weathered natural and social disaster. Apart, well, we could crumble like soiled stone. Though many saw him as a pillar of strength, somewhere inside he needed a shoulder to lean on more than anyone.
Jarvis was silent. I didn’t expect he would be the kind of person to deliver a dissertation on the separation of school chums, but the sudden quiet drove me all sorts of mad. I should have expected as much from my old friend, as he only spoke when needed, wasting as little energy as possible on expressing himself, and always to the point.
“You’re afraid you’ll never see me again,” he said, blunt as a hammer.
“Of course I am…” I said, drawing my knees to my chest. Putting his hand on my shoulder, he smiled at me. I could catch the last blaring dot on the horizon reflected on his eyes. The sunset was a thousand times more beautiful in that one moment than it must have been when the sun first set on creation. His eyes were now serene pools of light and shade, colored perfectly by the twilight brush.
It was at that moment that he drew near me. His movement broke the enchantment on me. For the life of me I could not describe what must have gone through my mind just then, but I knew I was not so sure of my feelings to let this moment be broken.
When I had moved away, he donned a frantic mask, wanting to reverse his action. He could see the fear in my eyes, and the shaking trepidation in my hands. Now, all he awaited was an answer to a question solicited by his eyes.
“Jarvis…” I repeated, strangling my own words with chocking sobs. My mind was so mixed up in those precious moments. Then, like a coward, I fled. I had not the emotional strength to stay, or to forge true my feelings. I could not even face Jarvis one final time. That day was the very last time I had ever seen him. The silence marred only by footsteps would be the last impression left on our friendship, ending truly at the setting of the sun.
It had been years since that day. I would like to write that I had surpassed my expectations and made something of myself. And yet, I was almost content with my road in life. Everything was handed to me, second hand. I had the leftovers abandoned by the Princes of the Earth…
The manor that was given to me used to belong to a minor Dragon Blooded who had decided to donate it to me. Yet another favor owed to my parents. How I longed to be out of their shadow. The manor needed a little fixing, and was far smaller than even my parent’s summer villa, where I had spent most of my memorable moments. Still though, it kind of felt nice to know that I was not abandoned at least.
Well, not financially anyway. Of course, my parents made it a point to subtly inform me that I had caused them an embarrassment worse than any scandal or slander they ever could have faced. They looked down at me with the understanding that I had done it to spite them. I failed to exalt, against better judgment, inconsiderate of the money they had spent on me. I suppose a “failed investment” would be an accurate descriptor.
They tried again, to have a child. The baby was so young, and I was quite detached. Having seen him but once he was more of a distant cousin than any blood relation. Worse yet it would be if he took the place that was set for me. Who cared anyway? Even if he did become a Terrestrial Exalt, I would simply become unnoticed. As much as I yearned for the praise of my parents, the fact that they would have a true heir to carry their blood would likely get the negative attention away from me.
But what does it matter now. I can’t believe I ignored my diary only come back to dote on past trivialities. I had better get the heavier things off of my chest. I suppose that even now, I am reluctant to face what I am. I still lay awake at night wondering if I sinned so greatly that the curse befell me. Maybe if I had been more honest with myself, more honest with Jarvis…
I can’t do this to myself! No matter what has happened to me, I cannot fault myself… If I begin to loathe what I have become, how can I find the strength to fight on? I must be frank. I am now Anathema. I have not feasted on flesh, committed any of the grand sins of the Immaculate Order, nor have I given my body and soul over to demons. I have to face the truth. I am a Solar, and I am not evil.
It started in my second year as an aide to a member of the Deliberative. A heated discussion over the state of affairs of the Wyld Hunt had begun, and a vote would soon be passed to imbue the Legions with additional authority. I had been around my parent’s friends and the Deliberative long enough to know that some major military house was behind this movement, and that this was all a subtle ploy to influence the next leader of the realm. Of course, everything was as such nowadays. You can hardly walk around in the realm without stepping in the feculence of some dynasts attempt to influence the realm.
That day, however, it was a bit different. I was feeling sick, having symptoms much like that of a mother in gestation. Despite this, my duties to the deliberative came first, as always. I sat through discussion after heated discussion only to bore myself sick. I finally excused myself when I had swallowed back my own bile for the third time. It was only at that point that they had become sick of my “performance”.
As I was headed to a washroom to alleviate myself, I noticed a strange glow. Muttering all the Immaculate Prayers I could remember (not that I was especially devout) I realized what was happening. Before I could wipe my mouth away before a searing light filled my mind like an explosion. I could not act or think, save to writhe on the ground from real or imagined pain. As the light faded to a point where I could see, I noticed a member of the deliberative had arrived to investigate.
My first reaction was to run. I knew I was going to be punished, but something inside me insisted I live on ahead of this. I pushed past a flabbergasted senator, and ran without thinking. Before I knew it, I had made my way to the floor of the Deliberative. With the eyes of the entire audience upon me, I had created ample distraction to cease the filibuster that had been ensuing before I ran in, aglow, to the center of the floor.
And for a few silent moments, they just stared at the anathema. I swear I caught the eyes of the man I had assisted, and witnessed the horror within them. But as I cursed my existence and prayed for my life both with each gasping breath, I could hear them. They were deliberating on my very existence. Deciding in their own damned manner how they were to take care of me. Bickering amongst each other, they continued to decide my fate with their accusing eyes and venomous tongues.
It was such a mockery of what the realm had become. How could they argue and debate over my life. I wasn’t even as low as a dog, but some issue to discuss, a “threat” to the realm. No longer considered a person or thing, but an idea, and a menace to all they supposedly stood for. I nearly wished for a swift end, as would have been dealt to any anathema in times past. But with no queen to lead them, like a decapitated chicken, the so called Princes of the Earth could only flail their limbs about and go through the motions of government. The world was against me. I cried, and cringed like a broken child, hoping against hope I would survive their scrutiny. It was then that I felt my body glowing once again, and my vision blur.
***
For a few seconds, all creation ran together as I could feel myself being sent away in a vessel of light. The spasms of survival instinct in my new body had spirited me away. Suddenly, I was sitting on the veranda once again, crying as I had only done as a child, hidden away from the world to conceal my weakness. It was all I wished for now. To be hidden away and sheltered from a world that raised me to hate my humanity. A world that now wanted nothing but my annihilation, even as its gears were grinding to a halt.
I could barely stand up under my own strength despite this power I felt coursing through my bones. The setting sun kissed me as it fled the horizon for the night. As horrid as I felt, the sunset I had grown to love did not reject me. Shaking with fear and frustration, I smiled weakly at the sight of the sun, peeking from amongst the hills to adjourn its trek across the sky of creation.
I don’t know what god or fate to thank, but the setting sun lasted long enough to mask my unclean presence. The help had seen me from the window of the summer home, and came out to me, immediately recognizing me as the grown up girl who had once caused them so much mischief in summers past. I wondered then if I had really grown up all that much.
“Are you alright my lady?” one of the servants queried as they had gathered around in a circle.
“She appeared out of nowhere, I saw it. Must this mean you have finally…?” the maid’s question trailed off into a silent pondering. They must have thought that I was blessed by one of the dragons to have appeared from the sky like a benevolent spirit.
I simply nodded, mustering all that I could to retain my regal posture and a gentle smile. As long as they thought I was not some anathema, I could maneuver myself away from them. Though I was taught from birth to revile the existence of the anathema, I yet wanted to live, as a hidden urging kept my heart beating and my head level.
As I was ushered into my old room, I could already hear the servants hasten news to my parents that I had finally been touched by the glory of the Earth. I ordered the maid and butler out of my room since they did nothing but stare at me and cry with delight. It sickened me. I could not believe that these people were fawning over me simply because they thought I was a Dragon Blooded. I sat in my room and clutched one of my stuffed animals impulsively. What was I to make of my new situation?
All I could do is cry and think of how my parents would hear of my heresy. First the news of my transformation into anathema will reach them. After that, news of the Dragon Blood in my body would get to them. Likely they would put two and two together, and my life as their daughter would be over. It’s a pity, but I didn’t feel all that much remorse in losing them to their incomprehension. It was my exile from the Imperial Isles that worried me the most. All I heard about the outside world was that it was a harsh place where all manner of misfits and monsters held free reign. I much preferred to stay in the safe confined of the Realm, but now I existed as a misfit… no, a monster.
Now I was expelled to the outer reaches of creation. But to what end? I was driven by a deep yearning; a wanderlust that tugged at my heart more than any filial duty or desire. Even then, as the servants frenzied up and down the corridor adjoined to my room, making all sorts of commotion stirred up from my presence, I was starting to enact my escape. I wasn’t sure how I could make my way to the Threshold alive, but I had to find a way.
Though I had never set foot outside the Realm, I knew enough that I should get to a port town. Taking down a few of my maps, and gathering enough personal effects and provisions, I began to make preparations to sneak out of my room. I was leaving the veranda of my youth, probably forever. Moreover, I was turning my back on my family, and my upbringing. This meant much more than any kind of physical transformation. More than that, I was more than the daughter of my parents. I was now independent.
It was a harsh fact that I had to leave the Blessed Isles. However, it was as unavoidable as the "blessing" bestowed by the Unconquered Sun; I was left to decide my own fate. To stew in my own juices while enjoying all the comforts of a safe and sound Realm, or hedge my bets with the brigands and demons that lie in wait in the Threshold. It was truly a place belonging to me now. The monster that I was, my only recourse was to flee to the lands of exile, probably left to be some legendary beast conjured in tales by the mothers and caretakers of the civilized world.
But how could I simply let that be? I was no beast. Seeds of doubt planted long ago bore fruit. Was I going to slowly become a monster? As I struggled with existentialism, I was sitting among the dregs and indigent of the realm, awaiting a boat to carry me from certain death. Chewing messily at a few bits of cooked fish I had hastily purchased, I was trying to get to appear unnoticed while looking for my escape vessel.
Being in Arjuf summoned horridly pleasant memories. Every step through the realm was one last glance at my provincial childhood. Every night on calm days, the quiet port city was lulled to sleep by the gentle waves, and yet I would always find the time to sneak out of our living spaces, and spend my hoarded allowances experiencing the colloquial and delectable food Arjuf offered.
It wasn't as if the food my servants brought me was bad, but it was boring. Having beef and vegetables is all fine and good, but the lack of fish was unbearable. I had, in youth, grown an appetite for fresh seafood, during a time when my future was bright and resources were abundant. The cash cow went dry, however, and I was suddenly "not worthy" of fish. So I overheard my parents. Arjuf was one of the few places I could go to forget about my family. Forget the way my life had become. And each time I trekked into town in the late hours of the night, Jarvis would follow loyally. It’s not as if Arjuf was safe for even a patrician. And as I ventured into the veil of night, wreathing me for the masquerade that would separate me from my family life, Jarvis would inevitably accompany me on such journeys.
And sometimes we would run into street trash, drunkards, or people plainly looking for a fight. I admit that Jarvis probably attracted as much attention for as much help as he was. It was kind of funny in a way. But we had some great fun whenever we went to Arjuf together. It was no small wonder that I would always be forlorn and despondent during any trip to Arjuf made without Jarvis. And it was no different this time.
I had already been fleeing for my life. It did not take my parents long to come to the conclusion I had anticipated they would reach. The wyld hunt was sent for me, with no pity or mercy. My Patrician status did nothing to mollify the hunt, or perhaps worsened it, the embarrassment that I was already. They chased me nearly as soon as I had left my home. My ruse had not gone unnoticed, and I was nearly cornered several times.
I had the unfortunate honor of hurting my former servants. I still remembered my maid Lucy who lulled me to sleep when I was upset, or Talmitch, our housemaster, who had been among the few to offer kind gestures despite my lack of saintly blood. I could only stop myself short of killing them… they meant more to me than my own family, after all. But I still feel bad, despite the nagging voice telling me it was for survival.
They cornered me in the meadow behind my house. They didn't want to hurt me any more than any caring parent would ever wish harm on their own kind. But being on the imperial payroll does funny things to you. The fear of death was fiercer than their instilled fear of anathema, and I was forced to defend myself. And there was blood spilled. Some mine, some theirs. I could barely stop shaking with rage and frustration enough to run from their unconscious bodies. I could only hope they would be alright. But I had no time to make sure, as the dogs of the wyld hunt were already on my trail.
And now, I was reduced to this. Driven to barbarism for the sake of the hunt. Like some sick foxhunt, forcing me to abandon my life and pride, living like an animal would, the cities and slums my cage. No doubt more of the same awaited me in the Threshold.
It maddens me, and yet, I almost feel the need to give in. Why continue this monstrous path to live in infamy? But to die ignominiously would be worse. Something inside of me urged me to prove my parents wrong, to show the world that I was not a failure. Therein lies the rub. Risk depravity for some satisfaction. What a petty creature I had become.
Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of bells. A boat was announced to be on the horizon. The day brought with it my hope for survival, as the daybreak heralded the arrival of my escape. I feigned sleep, a trick I had picked up from my days in Arjuf, and watched with a slit eye as the sun danced along the distant horizons. A dread sense hit me just as the vessel had become as big as a thumb in the distance. A cold steel step shook me from my still ruse. Steps in beat with my heart thumped towards me. My father’s steps?
No, but it couldn't have been. Those steps that sent visions into my nightmares haunted me to the edge of civilization. Indeed, as I saw his signature-plated armor, my spine tingled and my skin grew scale-bumps from fear. My childhood was a constant show for him, and I was more like a specimen presented for approval than any child made from his loins. With a withering glare that bore into my deepest insecurities, he could whittle me down to a fool. And now it was he who had been sent as my executioner.
I suppose my father had as much right to my life as any other Earthen Prince. My game had run long enough. The dread in my chest, and guilt in my heart drew me to my feet. I cast off my rags, and faced my father: for the first time, for the last time. Staring at him with my best imitation glower, I probably soiled myself just then. Approaching him, his face was like stone. No thought or emotion betrayed him. It was his best quality, and most fearsome feature.
"Who dares step before Memnon Regus?" He spoke imperiously. He had obviously not expected a callow urchin to step in his way, let alone to have one such as myself make a fool of myself trying to get his attention. I probably should have thanked the Four Dragons that he did not recognize me. But I was stupid in the presence of my father, just as I was when he stood near me during my childhood drill inspections.
"I dare, father. You did not face me when I failed to bear the strength of your blood. Face me now father, and look at what I have become!" I said with a bit of strength to my voice. Where did these words come from? I would never speak to my father like that!
"Lies, my daughter is dead..." he said with a quiver to his voice. Had his men caught that the weakness in his words? I had, and it frightened me.
"LOOK AT ME FATHER!!" I screamed, nearly sobbing. I craved his approval, just as I had before. The youth wasted on his rejection of me fulminated within me, and I cried for him to pay attention to me, to verify my existence. I must have looked like an infant reaching for its mother...
And yet, he did not look away in disgust as he did many times before. He did not order his guards to slaughter his ill-begotten daughter, taking advantage of my misery and pathetic appeal to his feelings. Rather, I could see the shame in his eyes. It was a shame that bore the guild of an ignorant father. I could feel it like a scene from my favorite book, playing itself over many times, and each time different. This was merely another iteration of some former sadness, perpetuated millennia ago.
He sank to his knees, his face in his hands. I could even feel his rage and frustration, sinking into my very bones. My father, a very old, and very powerful Prince of the Earth, was reduced to tears in this plaza of destitute peasants. And his daughter, standing before him in rags perhaps was more of a blow to him than my being an anathema. Or had it been a bit of both?
I took a few steps back, finding a curious strength in his weakness.
“I... I have failed you, haven’t I...” he said enigmatically.
“Is this what you have become... because of me? Because of the Realm?”
“Father...” was the only thing I could bring myself to say. He continued to weep for a while, unable to look at me. I was worried that I had revealed myself as anathema, because everyone in the market was staring at me as if I were one. But seeing him like that, I finally regained my confidence. I could see in him the sorrow of a childhood wasted. It saddened me that it took all of this for him to see me as a child, and not a potential trophy.
"Father, I must go. I realize that you will remember me as a failure and a shame. But in your sadness I find a new strength." I said enigmatically. In those first days of my rebirth, I was not all myself. Like someone had guided my actions, and let me rethink my predicament. I found a bittersweet joy in my father's sadness. Like spun glass, I was delicate and beyond his touch.
I had been feared his last daughter in a string of un-exalted children, much to his embarrassment. But so long had he been removed from humanity. Removed from the dregs and the peasants, to live in his gilded cage, all the same. Had I imagined his smile when he visited me? Perhaps beneath the stone exterior my father wished nothing more than to be close to what could have been his last daughter, his final gift unto the world. His frequent visits had come even after my supposed failure to exalt. Visitations I had imagined as cruel. More the fool was I for having loathed my life, and for presuming much. I rejoiced and lamented this new knowledge.
“Sir, is this the girl we are looking for?” One of his soldiers broke the silence, somewhat fearful of his captain, but also of failing his mission.
My father steadied himself somewhat, and stood his full intimidating height. He finally looked me in the eye, which cowed me despise the softness I now saw in them.
"No, this is just an urchin I fathered with a whore. Sometimes out past just jumps out at us. This is not to be reported, do you understand? It’s shameful enough that I have had to face her here. We will continue our search, the anathema must not have gone far.” His voice was as stable as I had remembered it. As he walked away with the troops following closely after, I realized his own game. He spared me.
As he began to leave, many feelings washed over me. Respect for a man who was now father in more than name. Sadness over leaving a father whom may have been able to love me. And finally, wonder. The whole thing had ended before I could even register what had transpired.
I realized later that I must have looked as wretched as the disenfranchised beggars of the city. To the soldiers, I was simply some misfit runaway confronting her heritage like some desperate beggar. The Realm did not likely ruin their princes' reputations by revealing family anathema. Not unless they had blackmail in mind...
My father kept me safe that day. And as I sailed away that evening, I could only cry. Such a pathetic monster I must have made. No child could fear the muddy cur sobbing in her cabin, sailing for the edges of the world.
And I would not return for many years. I dreamt that night of the life that lie beyond the island that marked my sheltered world.
It has been five years since then. My father’s actions are perplexing still. I started a little over a month ago trying to recapture my memories of my days of infancy in this second body. I yet have much to learn about myself, my capacity, and my lot in life. I think a lot of events in the past half decade have taught me that my "infliction" is no more a shame than my gender, which some would have you believe is a enormous detriment. In many ways it is. But I ramble...
Leaving the Imperial Isles was most likely the most difficult decision I have ever faced. The steps I took onto the plank leading to the small and foreboding schooner echo along my life, sounding like gentle and firm chords. My path was set. The Islands against my back would soon be a distant and haunting memory. My journey was unassuming enough. The little jade I had left afforded me meager meals throughout the rest of the voyage. Since the Sun-Grip took its hold on me, I have found little appetite since. I still enjoy rich foods, but find that I can live on much less than I had to. It’s a bit unsettling. What will people say when they see me wasted away into nothing?
But my appearance remained the same. Consumed with a numb curiosity, I took to keeping inside my cabin during most of the trip. Taking a clean knife, I cut myself several times just to see my wounds heal at hastened intervals. My body and mind were reacting in ways that left me wondering if my soul was in its proper place, and not in some demon's hide, like some festering evil crawling under my skin. In a short time, however, I grew accustomed to my refreshed self.
By some blessing of the sun, I was not more attractive, as tales say regarding certain anathema. I enjoyed ignominy, and any such enhancement of beauty would have made me stick out like a brilliant needle. All the same, a new hunger overtook me. A hunger for knowledge that dwarfed even my eager and hope filled studies as a child. The voyage turned out to be more tedious than harmful, as my psyche ached for more stimulating activities. Certainly, no sea dog would provide the intellectual conversation I yearned for.
And yet, it was as if the threads of fate had bound me in their silken patterns. I met a curious young man. A ship hand, it appeared. A simple lot, but behind that ruse, I befriended a savvy child, no older than 15, who had bright eyes to match his wits. I enjoyed speaking with him, at first surprised to learn of his verbose manner. We spoke at length about things I would use to banter about to Jarvis. Our talks were less one sided than they had been with Jarvis, and I was galvanized by his eager nature and boundless energy. His name was Caltus, and he was a cabin boy.
"Hi there young man. I am Altruicia. I've heard you use words that haven't graced me since finishing school." I said to him inquisitively. He merely stared back, blank and idle like a fish.
"Are you frightened?" I said in entreaties. He flinched.
"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am. I thought you were talking to someone else. I had better get back to my duties. I beg your pardon,” He said. His bright eyes were alit with wonder and confusion as he scampered away. I must have frightened him, likely the first to speak to him in months, outside of harsh commands and curses.
It took a bit of work, yet I managed to whittle out of him a simple friendship. His young mind was just what I had needed for the long voyage. I fear to say that I used him, but that is what I did, as his inquisitive nature served to fuel my own active thoughts as I attempted to teach him all that I knew, while at the same time getting from him as much real world knowledge as I could stand to hear.
This would last for some time, and the voyage was long, but not nearly as unbearable as I had anticipated when my last foot had lifted from the isles of my birth. The child is endearing, if a little overactive.
***
It is embarrassing to admit, but he developed a crush on me. Ha! Me, the unassuming failure of a noble house. But his entreaties towards me were endearing, and a slight bit reaffirming. I tired of his games before long, and after careful treading I made him understand that his misplaced affection was inappropriate. It hadn't taken long. His heart required some mending, but our friendship blossomed all the same. I encouraged him to disembark with me at Nexus, for I was shamefully unprepared to face the metropolis alone. Anathema or no, I would likely be killed and used by the brigands said to lie at the edge of civil lands. Nexus was no place for a lady to travel alone, so I had been told many times.
And so, my voyage came to a close, my final weeks spent teaching my young new apprentice everything I could offer him, his hungry mind grasping for every bit of knowledge denied him at birth. It was a nice mental activity for myself as well, removing the dull languor of sea voyages. A pity I had no reading material...
It wasn't until the cry of "Land Ho" hit that I got to thinking. I had a younger brother out there somewhere. It seemed out of place to be caring so for this "rabble", while I had flesh and blood somewhere out there. But I was certainly more at ease with the loveable little whelp than I would ever have been living side by side with a person who could very well leave me in his shadow merely by existing. I dismissed any more thought of home as I exited my quarters to lean against the rail, anticipating my new journey like a child might stand by a baking oven, squirming with impatience. I think Caltus must have picked up on this.
"Lady Altruicia, you seem restless. Dontcha like the sea?" he said in his own colloquial way. I would have to train that impediment right out of him.
"Little Caltus, I have never been away from the imperial isles." I said flatly. I called him "Little Caltus" to show I was not pleased with him. I took guilty pleasure from the frowns he would make when I would do so.
"But why leave the isles? Was there something there that made you leave?" Touché. I obviously kept my past out of mind the entire journey. I had nearly turned to throttling the child simply to keep him from bringing it up. My blood began to pulse with frustration. My new condition brought with it several improvements, but my patience remained that of my mother's.
"Little Caltus, have you ever heard that children should be seen and not heard? One more mention, and you will have neither privilege." I said with a cold tone. I was probably not cut out for a very nurturing role.
"Sorry ma'am." he said in a hurt tone. Not the most sensitive child, my words did not fail to cut into him. He merely watched with me, the growing landmass in the distance. Like a beaten puppy, he merely hoped his silent presence would somehow mend the rift made by his comment.
"Its not that I hate my former life...” I blurted out in an effort to reconcile, my conscience getting the best of me.
"It's simply that I have spent a good deal of time trying to think of other things. I hate to occupy myself with musings of recent events. I could easily lapse into an introspective that would do more harm than good. I admit I am a weak creature in that respect." I said, my apologetic tone slowly turning Caltus' look of guilt into a slow smile. I still had no way of knowing how to react to his earnest admiration.
"Not a worry, ma'am, I won't say a thing." he said, tripping over his words with the proficiency of a drunk man, still nervous from his mistake.
"Calm down Caltus. Just remind me to teach you to be more congenial." I said, attempting to hamper his newfound vigor. The fuddle on his face reminded me that his command over High Realm was very shaky, and my knowledge of the vulgar sailor tongue was something that still eluded me. It seemed a simple miracle that we could communicate at all, but in the end, ours was something like the bond of blood. No, stronger still. I smiled down at the child.
"Never mind. Just try to rely on your winning smile, young one." The name of ‘Little Caltus' often soured the child's face, but 'young one' seemed to bring him glee. Silently wondering why, the sea gave way to river, as our approach of Nexus drew closer.
I could not help but feel a chapter in my life closing as we approached the thresholds. Though I was no longer of the opinion that the Scavenger Lands were a place for monsters and villains, I was still trepidous. But my life was already starting to look up, and I already had someone to help me along the way.
End Part 1
