Legends of Belariath

Lucas Kain

The young human sat in the bathhouse naked in the private enclave he had reserved with that stunningly beautiful Moriel woman with moonlight colored hair. He looked at her and though she had seen him before without clothing, this was the first time she had truly seen him nude. He was young, a man in body and perhaps in spirit, but still weak in his mind and soul. While his features were those of youth, there was a telling age around his eyes, something in them older than it ought to have been, even if he were ninety as opposed to nineteen.

His words would come out in a slow measure, there was a sort of oddness to them, as if he was unsure of what he was saying even as the words came out.

" I am going to tell you something I have never told anyone else, Blood Flower. I am going to tell you about my life; the whole sortied affair, sparing you know terrible details of myself. You are going to be my Confessor, and when I am done you will judge me for yourself. I am going to tell you because I look at you, and I see someone not better than, not less than... and not even equal. I see someone worthy of knowing me, so she can make a choice of her own volition, rather than being fed some pleasant story that makes her fall in love like some stupid, moon brained school girl. "

At first the woman pulled away and looked at him with a measure of hesitation that bordered on contempt, but then she looked into his eyes and saw what was there. It was not something sad or in need of mothering, not some weakness that he sought her to fill, but the desire to simply be known for who he was, to be judged not for his poetic phrases or his tongues other skills, but for himself. When she saw that, she knew that feeling in herself, and she nodded to him and said one word in a tone so reserved most would think it could unless they knew her well, " Confess. "

"I was born the son of a whore and the Gods only know who else. My early years were spent running around the backside of a brothel and truth be told I don't remember them at all, and so for all I know I could be a true son of a noble, but I doubt that. What I do remember is the pit; the place might as well have been hell, but at the time it was the only home I knew. We were thieves and pickpockets, pinch pennies and look outs. We did all the small stuff and because we were kids the guards rarely gave us much bother. A few swift smacks, a kick to the ribs maybe and you were on your way. Compared to losing a hand, it seemed almost generous.

I was the smart-ass who always had to find a better way, the kid who always knew how to do everything but shut up and pay attention...gods I was raw. The higher ups, from what I was led to believe, nearly had me done under on a number of occasions, but I apparently impressed them enough that I got off with floggings for my unsanctioned suggestions and demonstrations. It helps when you are near the highest earner in the group; adult or child. However, as I became a bit older I started to turn into far more trouble than my worth, and instead of just doing away with me, my "teachers” sold me off instead.

That was...lets see I must have been no older than seven at that time, and its when I first really start to remember things other than little snippets and vague details. It was where I learned about the various echelons of crooks and ne'er-do-wells that make up the underbelly of any civilized society. Before this, I had just assumed that you were some kind of thug or another but it turns out that while that is the truth, certain kinds of criminals like to think more highly of themselves. They view themselves a cut above your standard thief or highwayman, as their marks are much richer and often times pedigreed too. If you rob a noble, some of that nobility must rub off on you, I guess they supposed.

Regardless of their logic, they saw the potential in me to be useful as something more than a skillful pickpocket and set about training me straight away, and I think that is when I really started to hate them for what they put me through. It wasn't combat training or sexual training, no... it was book learning, poems and the like! I was made to learn to read and write and speak like this, so that I might blend in with the nobility. You see they all had that air about them of criminality that most of the upper crust could smell a mile away... but they managed to wash a good deal of that off of me.

For years after that I was taught the courtly manners of how to sit and how to dance, of how to compliment a woman and how one addresses a king. I was given lessons in how to affect an accent from various other countries, and even taught a few foreign words. Why I even had a dwarven tutor for a time, though he never made any sense at all. Everything was Stone this and Rock that, the metaphors I am afraid were lost on me, but I think I could recall them well enough to introduce myself to one of the stumpy kind. On an aside, don't call them stumpy, they REALLY hate that.

I hated them because they became family... because they made me give a damn about someone other than myself. I hated them because, even though they were ruthlessly exacting, they did not accept less from me, they did not accept anything other than perfection, and so I learned to be perfect in a great many things. All of them are utterly inconsequential of course, manners and mannerisms, and most importantly... they taught me how to lie. They taught me there is now way to tell the difference between truth and wholesale fiction. They showed me just how stupid we are when it comes to trust, when it comes to our perceptions. They taught me that everyone was playing everyone all the time, and at least con-men were honest about it. In some way that made me feel like I was justified in my actions, even when people got hurt.

I could tell you about each caper itself, but I fear that would take too long and truth be told, I can only recall certain details, as most of my time was honestly spent learning my supposed profession of a faux-nobleman from some damn place or another. Mostly I ran errands in the evening, delivering letters and gathering information as I mixed in the crowds of the rich and powerful, noble and merchant men both. I walked into bars and parlous and people thought I belonged! It was such a thrill to be a sixteen year old boy and have a group of elder statesmen wanting your opinion on "the war up north” and being able to bullshit your way through it all. Of course there was research and memorization, but none of that really mattered if you couldn't pull it off, if you couldn't make them believe the lie to be the truest thing in the world.

It wasn't until I was older, near enough to the age of seventeen that they started to really put my talents to good use, sending me among the ladies in waiting to wheedle out their secrets and occasionally a brooch. After all, if some ruby encrusted thing went missing would you really suspect Sir Kain of such ignoble deeds. He was so dashing after all! Most women will believe whatever they are told, so long as it is phrased in a manner they enjoy. These events were hardly anything though, preludes to what would come next. After all, if you had such a life and such friends as those, would you really ever give them up? We were more than just friends, Blood Flower... we were brothers, sons and fathers to one another; each and every one.

We all would rather believe a pleasant lie then the bold truth about to hit us in the nose. It was sometime shortly after my eighteenth year I found out what it was I was truly being trained for, and it was nothing noble, nor the stuff of tales. They waited so long with me not for any concern for my well being, but so they could be assured I was loyal to them in fact. You see, all that learning and education, it set me somewhat apart from them. I talked differently, I walked differently, and while all of them could act the part, I nearly lived it wholesale. They needed to make sure I loved them, you see... they needed me loyal beyond just a contract and a negotiated price.

They weren't just teaching me to act a noble nor to flirt with women, they were teaching me to be a whore. They wanted me to meet with ladies who were married, and steal their hearts away. They had me learn to seduce not barmaids but high born ladies for a very good reason, you must understand. We lived in a society where appearance and face were all. They used me to create conflicts which allowed for openings, and while no one would openly admit to the scandals we created, many lesser noble lives simply went away... men and women both vanished sometimes rather than their families facing even the potential of public humiliation.

Of course I didn't give a rats ass one way or the other. I did not care then and I do not now, and that is the Gods honest truth! At any moment we were found out we could have been killed, quartered, tortured, debased or any of a hundred thousand possible terrible events simply because we were less than, because they were above us. If even for one second they had seriously suspected, they would have our naked, defiled bodies dragged by horse through the muck for all other low born people to look upon and fear attempting to upset the "natural order” of the world.

About six months' passed in this fashion, and we made quite a handsome sum, all told. I was the cock of the walk where ever I went, buying my way into brothels and charming my way into married women's homes. I danced at parties and read poetry in the parlors, and I slipped the rings of those noble hands when I kissed them, and they never noticed the loss. When I took a pearl necklace from a girl, I made sure to leave one of my own around her neck, and she never made the connection to this date. I was charming and I was devious; I was a viper in an eagles nest.

Well, time came for us to get to big for our own good, and we made a terrible miscalculation when we thought we could help a kingdom to fall. We actually thought we would do it, we thought we could bring down a king. We were tired of the growing pressure the secret guard was putting upon us, not to mention we were slowly running out of suitable targets, and so we needed to do something big. We decided that we could do away with the whole noble echelon, set the people free... of course if we happened to empty the vaults before any else... well that would not be too terrible a thing. Truthfully we all just hated that bastard and his laws and wanted to do anything we could to make him bleed.

The plan was simple actually. It would have worked too, at least I think. The idea was to have me seduce the Dowager Queen, the mother of the current King who was himself but twenty one, and had only recently assumed the throne over a very suspicious death of his beloved father. His mother was a handsome woman, older, a bit stout of frame, but she lips like you would not believe... gods that woman could do things with her tongue that most men cannot dream! This is not to insult your talents, my dear, but she had an eagerness about her that made it seem like she lived for nothing else but to drink your seed. She was voracious in her appetites and I find I am still fond of that old girl, she was something else... level headed and reasonable, and a sense of humor like no one I have met before or since.

The idea was to have her be caught with me in a very compromising position in a very public place, so that then there could be rumors of the current Kings' own heritage, making people think him a bastard. It would be then that other noble houses would have certain secrets come to light, weakening most all of them to some degree and leading them to fight with one another, the kings' own men included. We would then be in a position to gather the underbelly thugs and brutes and invade those noble houses one at a time, as they would hardly have the forces to keep us at bay. We would make off like bandits, literally, absconding into the night and rich as rich could be. That was the plan at least, but it only barely got underway.

We were betrayed you see, stabbed in the back by one of our own who sold us out for a patent of nobility and a house in his own name. He was not simply rewarded, he was made wealthy beyond even our highest dreams. We had dreamed of money and women, of perhaps a boat and living the pirates life... his son could be a Prince. He gave our names, our locations, our plans and our escape routes to the secret guard, and they caught up with each and every one of us before that day was through. Within the span of the suns' rise and fall, our ambitions were undone, we were put in shackles and sentenced to the slow death of the mining colony, branded as chattel and shoved into a pen to sit and contemplate our fate until the ship came to haul us off to parts unknown.

The night before we were due to leave, the slavers and the guards got together to have themselves some fun with any number of the female captures, but there was hardly enough to go around and some of the less handsome fellows were forced to only watch. I made a rather wretched deal with one of the guards...certain favors for my own release, who would notice one less boy when they had near two hundred? To his drunken and lusty mind, that seemed good enough math to let me free... at sword point, so I kept up my end of the bargain. I had no choice in the matter, so I did as I had told him; but would like to speak of that no more.

I ran, I ran and I took passage on the first boat that would accept my labor, a good bunch of lads in an utterly illiterate sort of way. I was on the ship for only two months before it ran into foul weather and I was tossed over the side, sent to what I could only assume would be my well deserving death, however lady fate was not so cruel as most make her out, and I awoke on some unknown shore, an old and grizzled half elf dragging me from the water and slamming on my chest demanding that I breathe.

Needless to say getting punched in the chest is quite a way to awake, and I responded by trying to hit him back, but he easily pinned me flailing limb down and slapped me across the face, bringing me to my senses as I realized just how lucky I was. There was another man down the shore was not so fortunate I realized as he helped me hobble my way to his hut, one of my legs lightly wounded, but nothing a few days rest would not heal up.

He was a generous man in his own way, but initially I hardly noticed as he seemed a right obnoxious brute. He was as like to call me by some name like "pansy” as he was my given name. He liked to snarl and jab his finger at things, and did he ever love to chew his tobacco. Just thinking about the stuff makes me want to gag, it was foul. He convinced me to try it once and I was sick for what seemed a week!

While at this point things grew more stable, I fear there is little left to tell. He taught me things I never knew I could learn, about how to listen and how to breathe, and how to keep yourself silent in the woods even as you were made to creep. He taught me how to rig up basic snares, and care for myself when no one else would see to me. He taught me how to live free. Then one day I wake up and he is gone, apparently the hut wasn't even his...or he fell into some ravine and died, but I hope that was not the case. There was no note left for me to read, but he did leave me with a tool that has served its need since its first day.

I made a point before I left to drive the mark of the slave away, and so I heated up the daggers edge over a cook fire, and I pressed the orange hot metal to my skin, holding it there for as long as I could stand it, until that mark was entirely gone, and only this one wound remained present, the only record of who I was, other than these words I have spoken. I hope they are enough.

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