The Uncrucified Ch.4 Name Day

No time to read?  You can listen to the audiobook of this chapter here!

 

When I met the young men who would become my loyal bodyguards and ‘little brothers’, they were barely older than children.  Arc of Silence and Night Locust appeared one day on my path through the countryside, two of many lost souls that gathered in our makeshift caravan seeking the thin thread of hope that was the road to the free city of Dinas Rhydd.  I didn’t pay much attention to them, at first.  They were another pair of unfortunates in an unending stream that never ceased to trickle from the Threshold. 

It wasn’t until we were held up by highwaymen that I learned the truth.  I had thought I could talk my way out of anything and tried to negotiate our passage with strong words.  Everything started to fall apart when a member of the impatient thugs grabbed one of the girls by the arm and started dragging her away.  Before I could even draw my weapon, Arc and Night struck like lightning from the shadows behind the ragtag band.  They played off each other with ease, one of them diverting attention with a flashy rain of throwing daggers while the other struck stealthily from behind.  Their antics proved lethal for more than a few of the thieves.

I watched them more carefully after that, observing their quiet conversations and marveling at the deadly skill of mere children.  I learned later that they were what I suspected, child assassins sold into servitude in Nexus.  They were useful tools for implanting unsuspecting children in the midst of their targets, for who would think twice about such an insignificant servant?  I had been one of those invisible souls only a lifetime ago.

I remember their hollow smiles and the way they played with killing instruments as if they were toys.  It made my blood run cold and sometimes it still does.

Knowing Night and Arc as I do now, I know what living as slaves did to them. To be sure, they are grown boys now.  War made them so.  But they grew with no affection, no hope, no delight in the simple things in the world around them.  Not until they saw what freedom was truly like.  In many ways, slave children are stillborn.  Our bodies operate on survival instinct.  We breathe.  We eat.  We sleep. We work.  But our spirits do not grow.  Our emotions remain small, shriveled, unborn.  Meeting the boys made me remember just how lucky I was that someone who would be a father to me showed me what it was like to be loved, to be born as a human again.

 

After my recovery from the injuries of that first fateful dig with Ahrun, things changed at the estate.  I was given my own room instead of the dusty storeroom I had previously called my quarters.  This new room felt too big and lonely, as if it would swallow me up with its emptiness. I was far too used to cramped spaces by that point.

Most perplexing of all, Vadras had informed me that he no longer had time to give me lessons personally, a fact that greatly saddened me.  I was to begin lessons at the academy with other future initiates of the Guild.  It was a waste, he had said, for my talents to be spent merely on ledgers and housekeeping.

The night before I was to begin my first day at the academy, Vadras came to my room and stood at my bedside, his hands clasped behind his back.  I pretended like I wasn’t crawling out of my own skin with nervousness.  What was he thinking sending me to the academy?  It was no place for someone like me, even if it was meant to better train me as a servant.  But I kept all of these doubts tidily hidden under a ‘I will do my best, master’ when he asked how I was feeling about the notion.

And that’s when Ahrun Vadras produced a tart with a candle on it from behind his back.  Honey and hazelnut and pine nuts!  It was my favorite pastry from the South.  Confused, I merely took the plate in my hands and stared blankly back at Vadras.

“I wasn’t sure of your age, so I figured today was as good as any.”  He steepled his fingers together and took a seat on the side of the bed.

I still only stared.  When my confusion became evident, he seemed embarrassed, but quickly hid the fact with words.

“Why, happy name day, of course!  Since I couldn’t find the date in your papers, I figured today was as good a day as any.”  He pointed to the candle and made a motion.  “Blow this out.”

I followed the command without thinking, as I had been trained, and, to my surprise, found half a tart shoved into my mouth.  I chewed, still confused, but pleasantly distracted by tastes that reminded me of familiar spaces.

“I don’t understand, Master Vadras,…my name day?”  I tried to eat daintily in front of him, but I failed miserably, getting crumbs everywhere and hastily trying to clean them up after.

“Yes, a birthday!  Today, my girl, you will be called Vadras officially. I’ve already sent off the missives.”  He smiled, pleased with himself.  “Kalara, I would like it if…that is to say…you are willing.  I would like it if you became…my ward.”  He stumbled over his words, Vadras more nervous and ill composed as I had ever seen him. 

I stopped chewing, stunned, crumbs still littering my face.  He seemed to take my pause as an answer in the negative and became vaguely flustered.

“I suppose I should have asked first.  I’m sorry but I…oh!”  Vadras had no time to finish when he found himself caught in a tight embrace.  I had no words for this kindness.  They weren’t in my vocabulary.  I could only manage tears and quiet, feeble words.

“Please don’t wake up…”

The words made no sense to Vadras till it dawned on him that I was telling myself not to wake up from this blissful dream.  The realization made him return the hug with unexpected tenderness.

“Oh, my girl, you gave me my life…what kind of businessman would I be if I did not return the favor?”  I could feel his smile on my neck.  “Now, eat the rest of the tart and clean up!  You want to be alert for your first day.”  He finally rose from my side, handed me the plate, and casually straightened the sheets and fluffed the pillow as a way to channel his own nervousness.

“Thank you,…master.”  Stunned as I was, I could only mutter one of many trained responses of gratitude as Vadras turned to leave.  At the word ‘master’, he stopped, though, and spoke without turning around.

“Maybe one day, when it feels right, you might call me ‘father’ instead…”  He bowed his head and sighed to himself.  I could see he wanted to turn back again, but he kept himself facing away.  “Goodnight, Kalara.”

I ate the rest of my tart in silence and my dread for the next day fell away.  If this was a dream, I was happy to stay asleep.  For once, I would be the one in charge of where the dream led me.

It would take me about a year to stop calling Ahrun ‘Master Vadras’, and even then, I simply called him ‘Ahrun’.  That changed one unexpected day, a day that would simultaneously be one of the most terrible and amazing days of my time in school that I can recall.

I had been summoned to the dean’s office after an incident with three of my classmates.  They had cornered me one day, as they often had, to pick at my ‘dirty’ complexion, mock the Guild brand I hid under bracelets, and remind me that I never should for one moment believe that I belonged in the Guild’s prime academy for up and coming managers.  I was offal to them, former property.  I had no place in the same institution as them.

They made one mistake that day that was different from other days.  They threw my books in a puddle and broke the handmade abacus that had been gifted to me by Ahrun.

Those pampered, prissy, overfed brats weren’t prepared for the flurry of anger and lifetime of repressed rebellion that I unloaded on them that day!

Of course they used the opportunity to point out to the dean my unruliness and uncouth character.  When I came into the office, Ahrun had already arrived and his dark, stone expression sucked out any self-righteous indignation I had prepared beforehand.  I was dismissed almost as soon as I came in with the dean satisfied that I would ‘receive proper education’ at Vadras’ hand.

 

We sat in complete silence during the palanquin ride.  I began to open my mouth, but Vadras only motioned with a raised hand that I should stop right there.  He continued to sit with crossed arms and an expression that gave away nothing.  I realized soon after that we weren’t going home.  My heart began to race.  Where were we going?  Even after all of that time of living as his ward instead of his slave, I still feared discipline whenever I displeased him, moreso because I still feared, deep down, that he would one day be tired of me and decide it was easier to keep me as a slave.

 

Soon enough, we arrived at a nice house off the market district.  To my surprise, one of my offending classmates, who was still nursing a black eye, opened the door.  She was completely reduced to jabbering ‘yes sir’s at the sight of Vadras, who I sometimes forgot was one of the most powerful men in the district.  Ahrun Vadras making a house call for anything other than business dealings, research, or a meet and greet was unheard of.

 

I sat and watched, bewildered in stunned silence, as Vadras spoke to my classmate’s parents and in his usual courteous, but terse manner, informed them that if I was bothered or distracted from my studies again that they would find the price of jade and linen would triple for their enterprises.  They would also find that their currency would no longer be accepted at several banks and establishments.

We made two other stops that night with similar speeches being given at the houses of my other offending classmates.

When we arrived home some time later, Ahrun simply called for dinner to be prepared, making sure that my favorite foods would be on the menu that night.

I could only throw my arms around him and cry with amazement.  “You are the best dad!”  I nearly choked him with gratitude.

“I know.” He grinned his subdued little smile and continued on.  Business as usual.

 

When I returned to my studies at the academy the next day, much to the dean's surprise, fearful murmurs followed me wherever I went.  I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy that aura of fearsome mystique they were painting on me.

I was Kalara Vadras and that name meant something now.  I returned to my studies, business as usual.

 

Notes:

Guest Starring Night Locust and Arc of Silence, two other characters in Kalara's tabletop campaign.

Arc of Silence - The younger counterpart to the child assassin team of himself and Night Locust. Arc is an excitable teenage ninja with a flowing scarf who enjoys inspiring people. NPC.

Night Locust - The older counterpart to the child assassin team of himself and Arc of Silence. He's the more serious of the two, despite being a prankster in his own right. His final test as a slave-assassin was to kill his partner, Arc, but he couldn't bring himself to do so and, instead, Exalted as a Night Caste, killed his master, and escaped with Arc to freedom, where they later encountered Kalara on her path. Player Character.