The Return of the Shackles

[Nectorist 7436]

The Return of the Shackles

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The cool morning air of Valfleur gently swept through the open windows of the small townhome. It was a comfy place, situated near enough to the corner grocer that Sigismund’s knees did not ache too greatly as he went there each morning for the goods he needed. A quick stop by the butcher’s shop usually afforded him a bloodied leg of ham- one of the few things he could manage to keep down these days. All else bore the taste of ashes, so bitter that he could hardly stomach them. It was just as his father had always complained when he was young. The thin, yet looming man, his pinched face coiled in that awful smile, always excused it on pickiness, a lack of appetite, illness. It was all lies with Baron of Woldzmir, even down to how his food tasted.

 

His staff thudded against the floorboards as he occasionally glanced outside. Even at noon, the springs in the Commonwealth remained pleasant. Enough so that Russel and Avery played with the other children in their neighborhood nearly every day, from dawn ‘till dusk. Only a midday meal, prepared by Sigismund’s own hand, prevented their inevitable collapse from exhaustion. They even had the decency to eat what was put on their plates without complaint, which would almost make the elder feel proud of his cooking skills. It is said that old dogs never learned new tricks, doubly true for old men, but it seemed that the kitchen was a place where he could learn and at least retain half of what he discovered.

 

It was these long hours where he was left alone that Sigismund often pondered and ruminated. As a boy he looked at thinkers with scorn, for their heads in the clouds prevented their eyes from seeing the ground below. However, at such a great age, there was little else that the old man could do but just that. Every book on his small bookshelf had been read a thousand times over. His neighbors were younger and often at work. Avery was three and Russel was five. They had been in his care for close to two years, but words had only infrequently been exchanged. What else could be said save simple instructions and calls to supper?

 

It was never Sigismund’s desire to take care of the two boys. He was far too old for it and had never been much of a father to begin with. Taking care of himself was labor enough, and with each fall he worried that it would be his last. He had managed, though, and the boys seemed to regard him well enough. They gave him a hug each evening as they went to bed, leaving him to rock in his chair by the fire for another hour before he took to his own. It was almost cruel that his finest moments as a father came with two boys who were not his own, when he was too old to do much more than ensure they ate, and when the warm sentiments he longed to feel from such a thing had nearly been purged from him.

 

It was Ostromir’s doing, Ostromir’s plan, that had made it so. Sigismund had had a son before, Pavel-Dmity, a flush and healthy boy. Sometimes, when Avery laughed while at play, the elder could hear his son. He told himself that all young children sounded the same, that he sought in this boy what he had lost- no- what had been taken from him. As Russel looked up to him at the dinner table, which he was so wont to do, his eyes shone brightly. It was the same as his dear Pavel, who glowed brightly and never ceased to smile. His father’s heart had turned for the worse long ago, another stain brought by the curse Ostromir had given him, but when he looked down on his dear son, he felt stirred, moved, compelled to live.

 

When the boys were away, and he rocked quietly, alone in his chair, the memories returned. Try as he might, he could not strip himself of them as he could to others. Pavel’s lifeless body slumped in a corner as if he were a rat. A robed man’s caustic, sickly tone, hardly trying to mask his glee as he explained to Sigismund why such a deed had to be done. It was to restore his health, no, to strengthen the resolve in the young Sigismund, no, to remove from him his mortal attachments. In his dreams the man pulled back his hood to reveal that pinched, weasley face of his father. It could have been any man that killed his son, but all were Ostromir. Each and every one. Their taunts and jeers pierced his mind each night, for every moment he lived was a reminder that even Valfleur was no escape. Across the landscape all was dark, even in days where the sun shone brightest, for the tendrils of the beast of Doborv stretched across the world. One day, they would find Sigismund and return him to the captivity that he had sought escape from for years.

 

As he looked out the window on that fine, cool Petran morning, old Sigismund Chekhov watched Avery and Russel run about with the other neighborhood children. Bright, lively, joyful, all things that fate could strip from them. The old Tuvyic loathed to think of the future they would have should he decide it. Such a thing would make him no better than Ostromir. But for once he allayed such thoughts. The young brothers were his responsibility, his duty to care for, as bothersome as it could be. At his old oaken chair he continued to rock, and soon his thoughts drifted off again…

 

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Sigismund snapped awake at the stump he sat on. His throat was sore and the sun beat down on him heavily. His old armor, rusted and bent, did not cool him any, but it had to be done. It was past midday, and he looked to the west, for it would soon be time. He saw two, no, three, figures descending the hills overlooking the rolling hills of the Adrian Midlands towards the hastily-made ritual site he had assembled near Klarov. Two carried the other, and although the bright sun obscured his vision, the necromancer could not help but fashion the faintest of smiles. His way had been had, even if the result could never be more than a tragic one, and the brothers had succeeded, as they always had for him. Within moments they would arrive and the ritual would begin. All he would have to do was sit and wait a few moments longer.

 

Spoiler

OOC: Ty @Spoopy_Duck for the RP today!

 

Additional creds to @Throne and @RIGOR