Bastard’s Ballad

[BenevolentManacles 2232]

The Bastard’s Ballad

 

  

"The wind cuts harshly here,"

 

A boy, with a patchy beard that struggled to save his chin from the icy air, pulls a thick cloak of elk hide tighter around his shoulders. He speaks only to himself, grinning as he recalled his tutors inciting him to cease the nonsensical self-narration he was so prone to when alone, or when he thought he was.

 

His boots were well made for the trip, but he'd grown weary, singing songs to himself to keep from wandering thoughts of the cold. The road had been drowned in snow for days now, his only markers being the stars when they showed themselves between the curtains of the clouds. A pair of kindly Fenn had found him shivering next to his well made fire and gifted him hardtack and the cloak he now clutched, but he was not used to this.

 

He laughed at the thought that those Fenn may have saved his life, where he may have gladly let them die had he found them in the same predicament. Perhaps he would find them later, and thank them with wine from the Emperor's cellars, or whichever cellar he could get into.

 

The miles stretched on, until he could feel the cut of the wind subside, and the snow thin. He could see the cobblestone of the road reveal itself as the patches of snow evolved into a steady stream and a mere brisk breeze. Though now the sun was setting, and the journey to Ves from the rim of the snowy fields would be safer to walk in the day, and if the Pertinax found him on the road he was unsure he could convince them of his common blood, not while he carried the sigil of a fiddle on his breast.

 

Within minutes, his practice from pilgrimage produced for him a roaring fire once again, though now his climate was more temperate, as was his distance from the flame. From his satchel he produced a small leather-bound book, and unclasped it. Opening it for the first time in weeks, he had a few laughs over his younger self's ignorance and naivety, and wondered if in a few years he would laugh at himself, now.

 

~ The Sun’s Smile, 1715 ~

Love of Man

 

Veronica,

 

I am in a beautiful place. Ves is a city like no other, bustling streets and the constant noise of laughter, and comical strife. Their Prince is a fine man who loves his people, but unlike any other Prince I've met. He seems to hardly do anything at all, besides praise his city and run the meetings. The people of Ves care for themselves. They vote for their laws and on decisions that affect them all. I wonder, then, does any man have the right to be Emperor, if such love and adoration for one's fellows is best fostered through unity in rule?

 

Yet GOD has sent me here, to be sure, and no pilgrimage would be complete without the reconciliation of the demons which haunt me. I wonder now if the disappointment my father felt when I abandoned him to walk the path was all in my head. He took me into his arms when I saw him, and embraced me, as though every day I was away from him, GOD had reminded him of his love for me.

 

Oh, how father has aged. He's shaved his head clean, surely to avoid his courtiers mocking his hairline, as I so loved to do. He seems wiser, and more confident, but I know him better than to think he is without flaw. And an Emperor? I would never have thought he would be in a position to push his claim, but it appears his support is overflowing. He seems to feel safe in the courts of both Haense and Ves, a testament to not only their loyalty, but willingness to sacrifice their independence for the greater good.

 

Don't be upset with me, dear, but I think I'm going to ask father for one of his subject's Princesses. Wouldn't that be grand, hm? Now you know I'd marry you in a heartbeat, but here's my life now, the son of an Emperor! Be proud for me. The women in Ves are fine indeed, free-spirited and willing to listen. Not to mention, they all seem to think I'm much older than I am, thanks to my beard. This thing has done my wonders indeed.

 

I'll write you again soon, with great love,

 

Love,

John

 

~ The First Seed, 1715 ~

Honor the Enemy

 

Dear Veronica,

 

I carried out a sentence for my father today. A member of the Pertinax family was captured by father's subjects in Haense, and I was a member of the jury for the trial by random selection, along with the King of Haense, whom the Pertinax call Marius the Meek. Meek he was not, though he was quiet, it struck me as thoughtfulness more than anything. His decisiveness was not questionable.

 

Despite the rows of Haense cheering half of the time for their victory over Marton Pertinax's retinue, it was a well orchestrated trial. Father denied Marton of the right to trial by combat, proclaiming this a new age. I think this was a more important moment than many of the denizens of the court realized, but all the same, he was tried fairly. The Prince of Ves acted in his defense, and was valiant in his effort, proving clearly that Marton could not have committed treason against an Emperor who he did not swear to.

 

All the same, we of the jury determined Marton guilty of murder, and my father sentenced him to lose his sword hand. I took the man outside, along with a comrade in arms, Maly'thill. The man, Marton, seemed calm overall. Clearly he had disdain for my family, but he lacked not in reason and even honor. I took his hand while Maly'thill held him, and struck him on the head to render him unconscious.

 

I was ordered to arrest him, but instead, after Maly'thill bandaged his stump, I tossed him outside the city walls to fend for himself. If he had the strength to survive the trek to his Pertinax brethren in that condition, then GOD had surely gifted him with some purpose beyond a dungeon cell. Surely father will be upset, but we could hardly force him into the cloister practically.

 

A girl, my cousin apparently, named Matilda saw me take the man's hand. She was less than ten, I'm sure, and I felt sick having shown the girl something like that. She insisted that her uncle, Commodus, who is also my uncle, told her that if she was to grow strong, she must learn not to turn away at such things. I've not met any girl with such desire to grow unladylike, but it was becoming her tenacious nature. I trekked with her home to Ves, and thought of Marton on the way.

 

If he survived, and deep down I surely hope he did, I can not wait to cross swords with him in a way befitting men fighting for their families, and their honor. Stay beautiful, my love.

 

Love, 

John

[BenevolentManacles 2232]

~ The Amber Cold, 1716 ~

To Resolve One’s Self

 

Dear Veronica,

 

Much has happened since I wrote you last. My sister has come to Ves now, and she is as I recall her; tenacious in her love for her uniqueness, and worried for her family. How wise she is for her age, to be so worried. We spoke for awhile, and she cried to me. She did not want father or I to be hurt. I love her dearly, and it broke my heart.

 

The whole thing was brought on by Darius Ault’s assault on a girl of Ves. I hardly think the woman was a threat, but this so-called Knight punished her for the crime of being Adrian by taking her hand. What a grotesque excuse for a person. But the true harm he'd done was to make my sister cry, and for that I will ensure he is incapacitated beyond doing such in the very near future.

 

My brother, Henry, is here now as well. He served as my squire during a skirmish, insisting he would join in battle. It was the only way to keep him from harm's way. 'Hold my extra sword, hold my horse's reigns,' I told him, and he did as he was told, taking great pride in it. I love him dearly, too.

 

I got what I wanted. Father approved of my marriage with a Princess of Curon, and we began courtship. Yet even as I longed for such esteemed marriage, even as baseborn as I am, I grow tired of her. She cares deeply for me, and I can not bring myself to care for her the same. In fact, I'm yet still entranced by another woman, a physician with some magical power, named Amora. 'My charm would have her, if she were not so inhuman,' I thought. Little did I know she was literally not human.

 

I gave confession to a priest of Ves, Father Lochran. He was wise, and taught me how to quell my rage towards the Pertinaxi dogs, and my effort to fill the hole that you have left behind. I've resolved to do good by who I can in a more practical way. The building I've acquired at a cheap price due to the previous owner's corporate liquidation is required to have commercial purpose; I can not simple use it as a manor, according to city law. I've decided to use it as a location through which I can perform charitable endeavors, and to start, I will be providing free food to the city en masse.

 

Perhaps focusing myself on GOD's work will quell the insatiable desire to ruin myself that leaves me wanting. Though despite all my love for GOD, I do not think this fight I'm having with myself will be over for some time.

 

With eternal love,

John