[Undeniable Interests] The Wrong Brother [Octavius]

[Hadrian]

87th Winter, 510 A.V. It was nearing the end of the cold season. Already warmer breezes promised a balmy spring to come, reminding the citizenry of Syliras that no winter lasted forever, no period of death passed without rebirth. Perhaps these were just overly philosophical thoughts, but Hadrian was keeping warm in the book shop, a place he always tried to visit when spending any amount of time in Syliras. His warm winterbane coat was unbuttoned now that he had thawed out enough, and he simply perused a book about the Symenestra culture. His face was known here. Having grown up in Syliras as one of the children of Trajan and Plotina Aelius, one was known. But he was the black sheep of the family, and he always wondered if his parents had decided to quit at six with him. Little Verus had been a surprise five years later, then. He was seventeen now, bearing the bright blue eyes and dark hair of all his kin, tall and lanky, though now cutting a more impressive figure than his elder brother, Hadrian, who only seemed to exercise his mind. He put the book back on the shelf, halfway pulled another out before shaking his head and putting it back. Then he began to wander, peering at the shelves to find something, anything, to feed into his mind. It was a voracious thing, and required regular care and feeding, his mind.

[Octavius Fellguarde]

The book was old; its pages timeworn and cracking. Octavius had discovered it while digging through a pile of noxious potions and cobwebs. Immediately intrigued by the aged appearance of the book, he began to explore its contents. Within seconds, his eyes widened as he thumbed through the yellowing pages. The book was one of old superstitions and legends; a veritable pre-Valterrian relic. Like most texts, it had not escaped the cataclysmic event unscathed. Macabre scribblings crudely covered entire sections of the tomb, and towards the end someone had begun to violently tear apart and burn the pages. It was a book of myth, not science. In fact, it was exactly the sort of fanciful make-believe that his instructors frowned upon, but Octavius understood their true worth. They were a glimpse into the past; a vision of the world before it descended into chaos. Ever since becoming a squire, he had been taught that the goal of the Syliran Knights was to restore order and civilization to the world. How could they hope to fix the mistakes of the past without knowing what the earlier civilizations actually believed in? “The sword alone is not enough,” he parroted the words his Patron Knight. “Understanding is a weapon just a potent.” Not much use in a fight though, Octavius mused darkly. As he continued to peer through the book, he noticed someone walking into the isle. A warm smile broadened his features as he recognized the face of Verus Aelius. The man was the same age as Octavius, and the two were fond of debating the finer points of civilization, business, and politics. “Verus! I was hoping to find you her-,” he paused mid-sentence, realizing his mistake. The man standing before him was actually Verus’ brother, Hadrian. He didn’t know the man personally, but everyone knew something about the Aelius brothers. Hadrian was the mage of the family. Like most people of common birth, Octavius was extremely distrustful of magic and those who used it. However, Hadrian was a known friend of the Knights, and that made him a brother. “Hail Brother, Hadrian!” he smiled warmly, although the greeting was formal and unfamiliar. “My apologies. You look so much like your brother.”

[Hadrian]

Hadrian had noticed the squire and was trying to place him, wondering from where he knew him. Syliras was full of memories and familiar faces, even the ones that didn't recognize him. In fact, the young man did a double-take, and mention of Hadrian's young brother helped him place him. Octavius was the transplant from Sunberth, a friend of Verus, who was also on the path of knighthood himself. The young enchanter smiled his small smile, but while he had originally taken exception with his father throwing his youngest brother into the Knighthood in order to cement ties with them, Verus had taken to it and seemed to enjoy the vocation their father had chosen for him. "Hail Octavius," he replied, friendly enough, though he picked up on the formality. "Practically a knight, I see..." He might have said something about how tall the lad had grown, or how obviously strong, but he remembered hating when adult friends of his parents made such trite observations about him -- well, to height if not musculature. "Well met. I'm glad to see you still like books."

[Octavius Fellguarde]

Octavius chuckled understandably. Although life in Syliras was pleasant, the citizens knew that if they didn't work, they didn't eat. With the coming spring, most of the citizenry were too preoccupied to spend their researching different cultures or searching through dusty grimoires. Knowledge was a luxury that few people could afford. "This shop is actually one of my favorite spots in the city," Octavius replied with a thoughtful grin. "Occasionally, even the brilliance of the instructors tend to falter, and one is forced to do his own research if he hopes to know anything at all." Stepping over a pile of overturned books and rubbish, the young squire looked around the old shop. "It may not be as neat or organized as the libraries in Zeltiva, but some of the oddities and relics old Dominac has buried around this place are truly remarkable. I just wish he would do something about the spiders." "Are you here to find something in particular?" he asked curiously. He couldn't imagine the sort of trinkets a mage might be looking for in the shop. Although he generally tried to avoid the shelved items that looked even remotely magical, he had to admit that there was something interesting about the unknown.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian nodded amiably enough. There was an echo of himself at seventeen in young Octavius, though Hadrian had devoted himself entirely to the luxury of learning rather than the defense of the tenets of Sylir. But these things were relative. Hadrian had created small wonders for the Knighthood, made magic out of the very leaves of the holy Windoak, and that was more than most squires could claim. Then again, Octavius was yet at the beginning of his journey, and he might do glorious things. "One gets to a point, Octavius, where one cannot learn at secondhand from one's teachers. A point where one must take the foundation they built and build on that, trusting to one's own mind." He paused. "That probably sounds terribly pompous of me." He chuckled and sighed. "I apologize. You probably don't need any 'wisdom' from me." He glanced at the spines of the books nearest him, then back to Octavius, shrugging. "I always come here when I'm in Syliras. You never know what you'll find. What have you come here to find?"

[Octavius Fellguarde]

Eyes rising toward the ceiling, Octavius tried to recall what his purpose for visiting the bookshop had been. He had initially stopped by the shop in order to inquire about a map of the Kalea Region, but that was nearly fourty-five chimes ago. His youthful mind was restless and prone to wandering, and he remembered becoming distracted from his studies the moment he stumbled upon the defaced book of legends. “I am not well-traveled,” he admitted with a heavy shrug of his shoulders, “but I do not want to stay in Sylira my entire life; hiding behind the walls of the city. It is the duty of the Knighthood to bring order to where there is none. I came here in the hope of learning more about these distant lands. Growing up, I never imagined that I would ever meet someone from Wind Reach or the City of Illusions, but now I have an opportunity to visit them myself.” Octavius paused as he looked down at his freshly-bandaged fingers and calloused hands. They were the hands of a warrior, not an anthropologist. A queer expression washed over his face as he looked down at them. “Of course, you are undoubtedly aware that we are not explorers or sightseers. Our duties do not permit us to traveling just for the sake of it. Rather, we are often shipped off to derelict outposts in the middle of no where in order to cross swords with some slaver or criminal. Not exactly a leisurely affair.”

[Hadrian]

Hadrian wondered, not for the first time, about young men who became knights and then talked about traveling to places beyond the realm of the Knighthood. Even Sylira was not entirely theirs, carved up by Ravok on one side, other parts falling under the sway of other cities or city-states. But he could understand wanderlust and a thirst for knowledge. It seemed that Verus had rather good taste in friends if Octavius was any indicator. Clearing his throat, Hadrian said, "Well, I just recently returned from Alvadas myself. After I graduated from the University of Zeltiva, I saw Sahova by way of Sunberth. Now I'm trying to decide where to go next. The Knights have Master Nightshade to do their magic for them, after all." He paused. "If I had known you wanted so to see other places, I might have brought you a souvenir. Even though Alvadan souvenirs probably drive men insane..." When his eyes followed Octavius' to his bandaged hands and then looked up to the lad's strange expression, he awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. "Chin up, Octavius. I doubt all the squires and knights are as well-read and intelligent as you are. Perhaps you will become an ambassador or even the knightly guard of an ambassador and see cities rather than waystations." He offered a smile, remembering how much a smile would have benefited him at that age.

[Octavius Fellguarde]

Octavius was slow to return Hadrian’s smile, his eyes sweeping past the older man to stare out of the lightly-frosted windows. No matter what he accomplished or how much he studied, he sometimes still felt like a wide-eyed farm boy, utterly ignorant of the world around him. He was envious of the older man's worldliness and experiences. Learning the traditions and history of the other regions was important, but it didn't compare to experiencing them for himself. He was not content with rotting away behind the walls of Syliras, his nose buried in a book and his muscles atrophied from sitting on his ass all day. He wanted to see the world; not out of youthful vagabondism or restlessness, but because he believed in the mission of the Knighthood to rebuild civilization. He considered it the height of arrogance to assume that one could do that without first exploring the few vestiges of civilization that actually remained in the world. The older man placed his hand on Octavius shoulder, shaking the boy from his thoughts. The man's words were reassuring and complimentary, without being patronizing. Octavius appreciated that the mage wasn't treating him like a bothersome kid. "It's true," Octavius began, the youthful twinkle of ambition returning to his eyes, "I do hope to become more than a wandering crusader. I deeply respect the Knights who consider such a path their calling, but my aspirations run deeper. I grew up near Sunberth, so I know what can happen when people reject the moral foundations of civilization and are left to govern themselves. No matter how many criminals the Order puts down, we will not change the world through threats of violence and intimidation. Rather we must serve as an example. I want to see Syliras become the envy of all the world, even if it means changes to the Knighthood itself." Octavius paused awkwardly, realizing that he was encroaching dangerously on the sort of speech that got him chewed out by his instructors in the past. He believed in what he was saying, but he also knew that he had a tendency to bore his company with his righteously indignant diatribes. The young squire chuckled nervously to himself for a few moments, before coughing in an attempt to pierce the uncomfortable silence.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian chuckled and gave Octavius' shoulder another pat before letting his hand fall away when he recognized the dawning realization that his words might be taken for heresy of sorts. He liked Verus more than most of his siblings. Being Number Six and Number Seven, Verus was the only one upon which Hadrian was able to exert any big brotherly influence, but while Hadrian dreamed of learning the secrets of creation, Verus seemed to be caught up in the idea of adventure and all the moral tenets of the Knighthood. It made Hadrian a mite proud to know that Verus had befriended people like Octavius, who seemed to have a bit of the same streak of rebellion that Hadrian had himself. Sometimes one needed to shake things to their foundation in order to make them right. "Don't worry, Octavius," he assured him in quiet tones. "I agree with you in theory, and I don't go running to the Knights when someone speaks their mind slightly out of line with the dictates of the Order. I hope men like you rise to take the reins of power, otherwise Syliras might become as rigid as the pre-Valterrian empires, and we know how that story ended..." He considered the young man for a moment. "How long until your quest?"

[Octavius Fellguarde]

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” Octavius admitted with an amused shrug. “I am told that when the time comes, the Windoak will speak to me through meditation.” If the young squire had mentioned that to an ordinary citizen, he would have most likely only received blank stares and nervous laughter in response. Even the most devoted citizens were largely ignorant to the true nature of the Windoak, considering in nothing more than a symbol. Normally, squires were not permitted to discuss the specifics surrounding their Knighting Quest, but Hadrian was a man of erudition and intimately intimately aware of the Knights and their practices. Having lived in communal barracks for so many years, Octavius had to train himself not to reveal information that might compromise the Knighthood when speaking with outsiders, even inadvertently. Fortunately, talking with Hadrian was no different than talking to any of his brothers-in-arms. "You mentioned that you might be leaving the city soon," Octavius reminded the mage, "Where are you thinking about traveling to?"