Alexia Drelledovie
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Posts: 37
(11/3/05 11:18 pm)
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Preruet-Lothair Arnau--Warder
Name- Preruet-Lothair Arnau
Birthplace- Maurandy
Age- ?
History-
My name is Preruet-Lothair Arnau. As the lone surviviour of my family’s massacre, the burden falls upon my shoulders; not only to remember the deeds of those worth remembering, but to restore my family to its rightful place. I speak thus not for fame, nor glory, for indeed, there was little that would warrant such, on the night the pogrom occurred. I write
this now, simply so the honour and lives of those who did not deserve the dire fate imposed upon them: will not be snuffed from the memories of the living like a candle in the blowing winds. Until the time comes for my honour to be restored and the stigma of my name washed clean...they can live only through me...
The Arnau family as always been at the bottom of the proverbial heap. Centuries ago my ancestors became vassals of a minor lord in Maurandy. This minor lord held a large state bestowed upon him by his liege lord. As his vassals, my ancestors were given a small piece of the pie, due to the
large demand for armies during the time, he had many such vassals and our piece was remarkably small. A mere village. Despite this, my family has always done the best it could, through the ages my ancestors were a diversity of rulers. Many were kind, fair, just and compassionate, but then, some
were not.
My father, Ignace and my mother Rose, identified closer to the latter, though they were not unjust and always settled disputes between the dredge and rabble to the best of their ability, they also ruled with an iron fist. They had no need to deceive their direct superior, nor wrap the iron fist in a veil of silk, he cared not, so long as his monetary fief arrived promptly whenever it was due and my parent’s kept a healthy supply of soldiers at the ready.
On occasion the odd insurgent or malcontent would organise a half-hearted coup’d’etat and try dislodge my family from the seat of rulership, they were swiftly and summarily put down, executed or taken away in chains to spend the rest of their lives counting the ceiling cracks in one of the many dungeons beneath my home. Though we were not rich or important enough to own a castle, our home was sizable and splendid in its own right. A large manor, surrounded by a large wooden barrier- a simple precaution. In hindsight, it may have been a mistake to build a construct so completely of wood.
My brother Harbin was the eldest of my parent’s two children, I was the second son, a mere after-thought. There was a difference of seven summers between us and the advantage was solely his. As the eldest, Harbin was schooled in the art of war strategy, swordsmanship and the tools of statescraft. His tutors were the most decorated and famed our money
could buy. I strove for the spotlight my brother manopolised but in the end, I was always destined to fail. No matter how great my accomplishments, he would do one better and the jealousy consumed me.
My tutor, despite his being hired simply to keep me out of the way of important matters, was a great man. Though I never knew his name and referred to him simply as, ‘sir’, I felt closer to him, than any other. His teaching, however, conflicted greatly with that of my family and it caused me no little confusing in my childhood.
His was the way of pacifism and wisdom. He believed, that by working in harmony with nature, instead of imposing our will upon reality was the path to true enlightenment, a philosopher, a poet and an artist, he imparted upon me, valuable lessons that I shall carry to the grave. My family,
on he other hand, worshipped strength, strength by any means necessary. To dominate those who were more powerful than you, was your right and to take any opportunity to increase your own strength was not only paramount but worth losing your life for.
My tutor refused to allow me schooling in any form of weapon, he believed that those taught how to wield such violent and deadly instruments, were forced to struggle against the propensity to resort to them. In short, instruments intended for physical violence would blunt one’s ability to use his mind to solve problems.
My teachings came in three major forms, education- my parent’s influence, thought and reflection and physical conditioning. Though scholarly knowledge was the enemy of my mentor my father had ordered it and so grudgingly, my tutor acquiesced. Thought and reflection was my
favourite part of the day, instead of studying from a textbook or practicing my formal writing skills, we would simply sit for hours, or walk, appreciating the world for what it was, not what it could be.
Physical conditioning was another major part of my schooling, though I was not taught to wield weapons, how to parry a sword stroke or deliver the final blow, I was taught an art my tutors father had passed down to him and his father before him. It was little more than a physically intensive dance, I was expected not only to perform it flawlessly but continuously until my tutor had decided I had done enough. He had told me once that it had once been a devastating form of martial combat, used by unarmed combatants.
It had eventually been outlawed by royal decree and in order for its continued existence its most prolific practitioners had transformed it, hidden it in the guise of a dance, now, it was no more effective than a mosquito bite but it was great for the physical body. As my tutor had once explained it to me, it was to free the mind from the physical distractions of the world.
When I was but sixteen summers old, my parent’s received a summons from their liege lord, taking the better part of our guard with them, they left my older brother Harbin in charge, not even they could have foreseen the events that this one mistake would usher forth, not only the end of my family as governors, but the end of many innocent lives.
My parent’s had been gone but a week, when my brother disbanded our guard, our families only protectors. They were not vassals, for we had no land to give, instead they lived inside our manor, in their own barracks, they were paid sufficiently and in return expected to serve us unquestionably, even if it cost them their lives.
In place of these honourable men, my brother hired a band of
mercanaries, whose only loyalty was to coin. Using them as his own personal militia he declared martial rule and allowed them free rein on our unsuspecting village. Those of us who would openly oppose my brother, were either killed, or in the case of myself and my tutor, sequestered from the manor proper and confined to my quarters.
More and more frequently insurgents and malcontents began to emerge, their strikes becoming far more organised at every turn, the militia was kept busy quelling, small outburst and disturbances. My brother was a far worse tyrant than my parents ever were. Any known conspirator would be executed, his house annexed and given to a member of his militia to show favour, their family was left with nothing, to die on the village streets.
My brother’s militia then began to turn upon him, raping, plundering and murdering with total abandon and disregard for his leadership, their leader began to demand more pay, more and more villagers, once backed into a corner, rose to expel the taint from their homes...the streets ran with blood.
As these things often turn out, my parents returned at a very
opportune moment, their loyal retainers and house guard quickly overcame the militia, executing them all. This internal strife was costly however and by the time my father and mother had once more gained control of our village and subdued my brother, many of their guard were killed.
Even though I had never been close to my father, I was indeed thankful that our fief, my inheritance was now back in capable hands. Sadly, however, the better part of the village was unaware of the recently transpired events and another coup had been stealthily organised. With the house guards numbers heavily cut, they did not stand a change against the
onslaught.
They came at us in the night, a mob of fire wielding maniacs. They quickly set fire to the manor’s barricade. Killing the few guards left to maintain the watch, they quickly gained entrance to the house itself. I awoke to the smell of flames, the clash of steel and the rough hands of my mentor shaking me awake.
By then, my parents and brother were long dead, the manor was ablaze and only my tutor and I were left alive, except for the rampaging villagers and this was due only to my mentors foresight, he had locked and bolted the door. It would take them only a short time to cut their way through and then, there would be no escape. The window was the only option and from all appearances the ground below was empty of pitch-fork wielding farmers, no one said they were smart.
Perhaps the fact that it was a second story room had led them to believe no one would be foolish enough to use it as an escape route, they were wrong. My held the window open for me as I climbed out onto a small ledge, just as he was about to climb through himself, the door gave way, slamming the window shut, my tutor turned to hold them off while I made my escape or at least...that is what I thought he was doing. Instead, he tried to convince them, with his higher wisdom that what they were doing was wrong, I watched from the window in horror as they cut him down, stabbing him
relentlessly in blind fury, axes, garden forks, scythes, tree branches, over and over they beat him until well after he was dead.
I had to bite my tongue to stop from calling out, as I descended down the wall of my own manor, running like a coward I sneered inwardly. My tutor had a strength of kind, but it was not true strength, he believed in his ability, it was this that led him to believe he could reason with filth, with animals. And in return he had been butchered, they all had.
My tutors final act had taken such courage in the face of adversity, such strength that even though he failed I would never call him weak. He had not been the instigator of this treachery, it was my brother Harbin. His mindless cruelty and overconfidence had led to the destruction of my entire home, if it had been he and he alone who died for his crime, I would
not have batted an eyelash, but he had doomed many innocent lives to death with his selfish decisions.
Once I had safely stepped upon the earth, I ran, there was little else I could do, I would not die for anothers mistakes, instead I would repair the damage, restore the shame my brother had brought down upon us....or so I thought. For a year, I tried to convince the other vassals of my liege lord to help me retake my families manor, to restore the honour of the dead. No one wished to be seen collaborating with a fallen govener, especially one who’s families cruelty and despotism was now widely known.
My liege lord, who I thought I could trust, had not seen fit to make me govener, instead, once the violence had subdued and my family’s manor had been torn to the ground, a charred and burning ruin, he simply chose another vassal to take our place. So much was the price of our loyalty!
It seemed to be then, that my family had been right all along,
pacifism could not work in an age of ignorance, strength is all that mattered, strength over those beneath you and your enemies. If no one would help me to take back my rightful place, to wipe the deeds of my brother away and start anew...I would have to do it alone and for this, I would need
combat training, even though I know pacifism isn’t the answer, I still feel as though I am betraying my mentor by thinking such thoughts, but it is the only way to honour his memory, surely he would understand this?
***
In order for me to attain the knowledge of combat I seek, I must travel to Tar Valon, I will enroll to become a warder, to learn their superior technique and skill, I will also gain unlimited access to the largest vault of knowledge available to the living. My name is Preruet-Lothair Arnau...and I will have my revenge.
Edited by: Alexia Drelledovie at: 11/27/05 9:53 am
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