[center] [h1][b][u]Brundt[/u][/b][/h1] [i]Fifteen years after Antiquity…[/i] [/center] [hr] “What’s going to happen to me?” Brundt found himself asking, once they had reached the safety of Milos’s family estate. It was the first time he had spoken since his arrival in the city. Milos said nothing, as a guard opened the door for them. He, Brundt, and Gelos stepped through, into the house’s main hall. He was Lord Karras now. With access to all of his family’s lands and finances. It was a sobering thought. But he had none of the respect that would have gone with it, for he had disgraced himself. He felt a sudden pang of resentment, for Cadien, who had forced this sacrifice upon him, and for the boy, who he had made the sacrifice for. But he shook the thought off. Cadien was a god, who knew far more than did. And the boy was just a boy, who had not asked for any of this. To condemn a god would be to court disaster. And to condemn a child would be nothing more than cruel stupidity. Milos exchanged a glance with Gelos, who remained as stoic and professional as ever, then looked down at the boy, who did not meet his gaze. “I have adopted you into my household,” Milos said at last. “You are under my protection, and you will be given the training and education befitting a son of House Karras. You will take the Karras name, and you will be my heir should I fail to produce any natural children of my own.” Brundt continued to stare at the floor. Milos could not blame him. It was a lot to take in. Especially for an outsider who knew nothing of noble or their inheritance. Then he recalled words from his father. [i]‘Do not underestimate the intelligence of a barbarian. They are people, just like us. They lack our refinement, our culture, and our discipline, but they are cunning when they need to be, and have less to lose.’[/i] “Do you understand?” Milos asked him. Brundt did not look up, but he did speak. “My… they said my brother was the heir to my village,” he whispered. Milos’s eyebrows rose. “I did not adopt your brother,” he said. “For it was you who I found, and you I brought home.” The boy’s expression turned hopeful. “Can you find him? And my sisters too? They’d all make better heirs than me.” Milos swallowed. He had lost his right to lead excursions into the Highlands. “No,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I cannot do that.” Then the tears began to form. Milos cursed inwardly. He was not a father. He did not know how to speak with children, yet alone a barbarian who had lost everything. “Leave us,” he ordered Gelos. The retainer nodded, and left the room, leaving the two alone. Awkwardly, Milos knelt and placed a hand on Brundt’s shoulder. But he could think of nothing to say, so instead he pulled the boy into an embrace, and the child began to sob into his shoulder. The highborn couldn’t help but feel sympathy. The boy had not asked for his home to be destroyed, for his family to be killed, for Cadien to take an interest in him, or to be dragged back to Ketrefa. He had even less choice in this matter than Milos did, and was far worse off. “Wherever your family is,” Milos told him. “They’d want you to be safe. Cadien told me to protect you, and I will. I do not know what the God of Perfection has in store for you, but I’m certain great things await you, and you will be reunited with your family in the end. In death, if not in life. In the meantime, you have a home here, and… I cannot replace your father, but I will raise you as if you were my own son.” Then the boy’s grip tightened, and suddenly became painful. Milos remembered the superior strength the boy had demonstrated during the capture, and how many men it had taken to hold him down. Still, he held the boy, until eventually the grip ceased, and they released each other. “Gelos!” Milos called out, and the retainer once more stepped into the room. “It is late, and the journey was long. Show Brundt to his new bedchamber.” [hr] Unsurprisingly, Milos soon found himself shunned by his own neighbours. There was a woman Milos had been courting before his last raid. Now, her family forbade him from seeing her. His friends, some of whom he had known since he was a boy, now glared at him as they passed each other in the street. His family owned a small farming village just outside the city, tended to by slaves whose families had been owned by House Karras for generations. But selling the grain from that village now proved considerably more difficult, and his revenues dropped. Milos had said he would give Brundt a training and education befitting a son of House Arenar. That meant hiring tutors. The few private tutors who were willing to work for him demanded extortionate prices, which he was forced to pay. Some part of him still wondered if an outsider like Brundt could even handle the lessons, especially since he was at least two years behind most boys of his age. To Milos’s surprise, the boy not only handled them, but excelled at them. Brundt had a sharp mind, and enjoyed studying, so progress was swift. After a year, he had nearly caught up to other boys of his age. The tutors were forced to grudgingly concede that Brundt was one of the brightest students they had worked with. Milos soon took a personal hand in some of the lessons, and found himself growing fond of the boy. However, despite Brundt’s progress, he was not accepted by the rest of the city. To many, the boy was nothing more than a barbarian. His unnatural size and strength did nothing to halt this perception, and because House Karras was shunned, there were few opportunities to demonstrate his other qualities. Like Milos, he too would be an outcast, unless he found another way to prove himself. [hr] Then, one day, there was a knock at the door to his study. “What is it?” Milos demanded. One of his household slaves stepped into the room, his eyes downcast. “Apologies, my lord. But a visitor from the Temple is here to see you.” Milos’s eyes widened. Here, in the district known as Cadien’s Quarter, ‘the Temple’ could only mean one thing. A sense of foreboding dread filled him. “Send then in,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. The servant bowed and exited the room. A few moments later the servant returned, with a rather athletic and beautiful woman in tow, who wore a loose purple robe with the fist of Cadien stitched on its chest. Slung across her back was an oaken staff. No walking stick; it was a weapon. There was no mistaking her: she was an acolyte of the House of Perfection. She bowed her head. “Lord Milos Karras, it is an honour,” she smiled, though the words were spoken through grit teeth. She did not want to be here, and it was clear her friendliness was forced. “Likewise,” Milos said, offering a respectful bow of his own. “What business do Cadien’s chosen have with me?” “I am here on behalf of Grandmaster Varsilis,” she replied. “He requests your presence at the temple, tomorrow at noon. Bring the boy, too.” “May I ask what purpose?” Milos questioned guardedly. She shook her head. “He did not say,” her smile faded, “though you should be honoured to receive such an invitation, given all that’s happened. It’s not like you have more pressing matters anyhow.” Milos grit his teeth. “I accept,” he told her calmly. It’s not like refusal was truly an option anyhow; Grandmaster Varsilis practically ran the district these days. Although he did worry about what the Grandmaster intended for Brundt. [hr] The House of Perfection had lost much of its lustre. The King was no longer as supportive as the organization as he had once been. No wonder; it was something of an open secret that the temple loathed Ketrefa’s monarch. ‘The Bloated King,’ Milos had once heard an acolyte whisper in disgust. It was not merely the King’s physique that brought about this disgust, however. The Cult of the Horned Goddess began as a nuisance. They first emerged thirteen years ago; an informal religious order dedicated solely to the Goddess of Love. To dedicate oneself solely to one god and to reject the others was blasphemy, and to commit crimes in the name of that god was worse. But the King did nothing to stop it, so as the years went on their influence grew, and soon there were rumours that the King himself could be counted among their number. But they had not been unopposed. There were those who disdained the cult and the disorder they sowed. Rather than embrace Neiya, they turned her away, and sought the protection of one of the more established religious institutions in the city. The House of Perfection in the District known as Cadien’s Quarter was one such organization, for they had always promoted a healthy and balanced lifestyle, and in that sense were something of an antithesis to the Cult. They may have lost the funding of the King, but many other nobles in the surrounding district had stepped in to offer their support instead. Milos’s own father had been one of them, and that had almost certainly been a factor in the King’s decision to dismiss Milos himself. And so Cadien’s Quarter had become something of a safe space against the disorder so prevalent in the rest of the city. The household guards of the nobility along with some of the temple’s own acolytes now openly patrolled the district’s streets, keeping order in place of the city guard who had long since grown remiss in their duties. Other sections of the city had taken similar measures as well, though many had chosen to throw their support behind the House of Order rather than the House of Perfection. Districts which were adjacent to those under control of the Cult were under constant tension, and violence often broke out in the streets. For a known opponent of the cult to walk alone and unprotected into a Cult stronghold was to risk death or robbery. Battle-lines had been drawn, factions had been formed, and skirmishes were breaking out along the borders. It was as if the city was heading to war with itself. Fortunately, Cadien’s Quarter was far from the frontline, and so Milos, Brundt, and Gelos were able to make his way to the Temple without any issue. He approached the pair of guards at the ornate but slightly worn looking entrance, and introduced himself. Although their eyes narrowed at the mention of his name, they let him in without resistance. Gelos and Brundt were left in the temple’s main hall, while Milos was led down a series of smaller hallways, and finally into a room. She held the door open for him, and he stepped inside. The room was empty, save for a single table, and three inhabitants. There was Grandmaster Varsilis himself, clad in a robe with the silver Ring of Strength on his finger, as well as two others - one of whom was the Captain of the Gates. “Lord Milos Karras,” Varsilis said, offering a slight bow. “Welcome. I am Varsilis. Grandmaster of the House of Perfection.” “Lord Karras,” The Captain, Lord Trehe Manzprius, nodded to Milos with a slight smile, “It’s good to see you well.” Finally came the last man, who was doubtless the oldest among them. Withered skin clung to his cheekbones, and his pale eyes regarded Milos coldly from under the dark hood of his heavy black robe. Casias of no great birth, elderly High Judge of the House of Order, only issued a grunt in response to Milo’s arrival. Varsilis frowned. “May I introduce Casias of the House of Order,” he said an apologetic tone. Milos’s eyes widened slightly. The heads of two religious orders, and the captain of Ketrefa’s gates, in one room? “It… It is an honour,” he said quietly, unable to believe his circumstances. “May I ask what I have done to deserve it?” “I suppose it would be best if I cut to the heart of the matter then, and tell all three of you why I have summoned you here,” Varsilis said. “It’s about the boy Lord Karras adopted last year.” “What?” Casias snorted, “That unwashed barbarian? I can’t believe this.” “Watch your tongue Casias,” Trehe warned, before bringing his attention back to Varsilis, “What about him, Grandmaster? That boy has done nothing wrong, if you mean to pressure Lord Karras into renouncing him I won’t stand by and allow it.” Varsilis frowned. “On the contrary, Lord Trehe, I have called this meeting because it is our duty to offer Lord Karras our support.” “Our what?” Casias' expression suddenly grew severe, “Have you lost what remains of your muscle addled mind, Varsilis? The absolute last thing we can afford to do is support some outcast! You know exactly how they’d use that against us.” Varsilis’s expression turned grim. “I am fully aware of what’s at stake,” he said. “More so than you are, in fact. Do you remember the hammer that appeared on my temple’s altar all those years ago? It’s still there. You all saw it when you came in. I told you then that it was a gift from Cadien, and that was the truth. It’s made by a metal no smith has ever seen before, and nobody in this city can lift it. Do you know why that is, Casias?” Before anyone else could speak, Varsilis went on. “It’s because nobody in this city was worthy. The gift came with a warning, from Cadien himself.” His gaze shifted to Milos. “Tell me, Lord Karras, when you made the decision to take Brundt in, did you hear a voice in your head?” Milos’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?” “Nevermind how I know. What did he tell you?” Milos swallowed. Cadien had forbidden him to speak of it, but the Grandmaster of Cadien’s order already knew, so perhaps it would be alright? “He said… that if I did not take the boy in, Ketrefa would burn.” Varsilis nodded. “Indeed. Cadien gave me a similar warning.” His gaze shifted from Milos to the two older men. “He spoke of a threat to our city. One that will see us destroyed if we do not vanquish it. The hammer was meant to combat that threat, but only a worthy champion can wield it. And after all these years, I believe that champion has finally arrived.” “Hmrph,” Casias grunted, sat back, and pulled down his hood, “I remember when the gods didn’t dance around in the street and go blessing hammers, annoying women, and little boys. Fine, I’ll believe you Varsilis. Or I will, when I see the child lift that damn ornament.” Trehe pursed his lips as his gaze flitted between Vasilis and Milos. He’d listened intently, and now that he spoke it was both clearly and deliberately, “If... If there is such a threat, Grandmaster, I fear we might require the aid of gods regardless of its source. I am not to speak of it, but the inaction of my guard is not unprompted. The King grows... Paranoid. He refuses to speak to me, and rejects every call I make to restore order in the city. I am not certain he would even order a response, if we were attacked.” Varsilis nodded. “We can’t rely on our King. Cadien made that clear. As to the threat… I have no doubts now. It’s the cult. Walk into any district under their control, and if you don’t get knifed in the gut, you’ll see it’s no place to live. If the rest of Ketrefa ends up like that, we will fall.” There was a silence at that, and both Trehe and Casias could do little more than nod. “Now then, I will have the boy try to lift the hammer,” Varsilis said. “But the boy is just that. A boy. Even if he succeeds, I doubt he will be vanquishing evils or leading us to salvation any time soon. It may be years before we see Cadien’s prophecy come to a fruition. But for now… let us see.” He made his way for the door, gesturing for the three men to follow. [hr] They arrived back in the main hall to find Gelos kneeling on the ground in front of a rather bored-looking Brundt, teaching the boy how to play a game of dice. When he noticed their arrival, the veteran retainer swiftly returned the dice to a pouch and leapt to his feet, bowing to his lord. Brundt’s head turned to regard them curiously. “Brundt,” Varsilis said, stepping forward and offering a smile. “Welcome to the Temple of Cadien. I am Varsilis, Grandmaster of the House of Perfection.” Varsilis’s words were met with uncertain silence, as the boy stared at the Grandmaster with his peculiar purple eyes. “You are nervous, I understand that. Fear not; no harm can come to you here.” He extended a hand. “Come. There is something I wish to test.” Still, Brundt did not move. “It is alright, Brundt,” Milos said after a moment, and only then did Brundt take the Grandmaster’s hand. The Grandmaster led Brundt up to the altar. “You stand before the altar of Cadien, child,” the Grandmaster said, to which the boy only nodded. He let go of Brundt’s hand. “Now, go forth and pick up the hammer.” Brundt looked back at Milos, who nodded. Slowly, the young boy turned forward and ascended the stairs, eventually reaching the altar itself. “Go on, pick it up,” Varsilis urged. Slowly, the boy’s hand crept forward, and closed around the hammer’s shaft. Then, with barely any effort at all, he lifted it into the air. In the past, two and sometimes even three grown men had all tried to lifted at it at once, but even their combined effort had barely moved it an inch. Varsilis, Grandmaster of the House of Perfection who wore a holy artifact that enhanced his strength, could not have lifted it either. But here, Brundt, an outsider and a child, had just lifted the hammer almost effortlessly. He held the hammer out in one hand, its head pointed downward, as he looked back down to the group with confusion. Casias’ eyes bulged, and then the old man burst out in laughter. He laughed until he wheezed, which for a man of his age wasn’t more than a few seconds, but nonetheless the old man had a production of the whole affair. Only when he was done, and many sets of judging eyes sat fixed upon him, did the high Judge speak, “Well, looks like you’ve got one now too, Varsilis. Enjoy it. I don’t.” Varsilis’s eyes narrowed. “You forget yourself. You stand before the holy altar of Cadien. I tolerated your disrespect behind closed doors, but not here.” The old man waved Varsilis off and eyed Brundt, “I’ll be in the ground soon enough Varsilis. Long before the boy is ready for whatever Cadien has in mind. Hmpfh. Well, he looks the part, doesn’t he?” “Blessed,” Trehe muttered, before turning to Milos, “Watch him carefully, Lord Karras. I have... Seen the consequences of incredible power given to one too young.” Milos nodded, still taken aback by the day’s turn of events. Brundt, nervous at the sudden shift in mood, slowly placed the hammer back on the altar. Varsilis’s voice fell to a whisper as he looked to Milos. “Send the boy here tomorrow, and I will have him undergo training and instruction from our order. Not only will this help prepare him, but the knowledge that he has my Temple’s favour should improve his standing with the rest of the city.” Milos nodded, for that would indeed be useful. “In the meantime,” Varsilis continued. “Let us swear by Tekret and Cadien to keep what we discussed here today a secret. I don’t believe that either the King or the Cult will take well to these developments. Just be prepared to offer your aid, when the time is right.” [hr] [hider=Post Summary] Our post begins with Milos and Brundt discussing the latter’s future, with Milos promising to raise him as if he were his own son. A year passes, during which Milos and Brundt are ostracized and basically treated as outcasts. Brundt also does very well in his studies. It is then revealed that the Cult of the Horned Goddess has been steadily growing in influence over the last 12-13 years, and how has entire districts under their control. Many have turned to the House of Order or the House of Perfection for protection, resulting in the city being dominated by different religious factions. Milos then receives an invitation to the House of Perfection, which is a surprise because he thought everyone hated him. Anyway, he takes Brundt to the Temple and winds up in a meeting with Grandmaster Varsilis, High Judge Casias, and the Captain of the Gates. There, Varsilis reveals what Cadien told him all those years ago; that a great threat was coming to their city (which Varsilis believes to be the cult), and they must rally behind an outsider for their salvation. Believing Brundt to be the promised champion, Varsilis decides they must put their full support behind the boy. Casias is skeptical, but after seeing Brundt lift the Hammer of Ketrefa - something nobody else in the city has ever been able to life - finally comes around. Varsilis then decides to have Brundt trained and educated at the temple. He tells Casias and the Captain to keep this meeting a secret, but to also offer their support when the time is right. [/hider] [hider=Prestige Summary] [u]Brundt[/u] [b]Beginning:[/b] 18 +5 for 10k+ characters [b]Ending:[/b] 23 [/hider]