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Kingdom: Fear and Loathing in Emporopolis (Updated June 20, 2013)
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<blockquote data-quote="The Shadow" data-source="post: 6147789" data-attributes="member: 16760"><p>[This is an epilogue to the game. If you haven't seen the end of the game, go up and read that first!]</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"><strong>Mathitis' Tale</strong></p><p></p><p>When Fylakas told me curtly, "Attend me in the sanctum," I knew that my doom was at last going to fall upon me. I'd been expecting it for a week, and the waiting had been a torture in itself... I hadn't lied when I'd told the Hierophant that my master could inflict spiritual torments upon me; I had only lied that I thought he would. But that was before.</p><p></p><p>Before he'd calmly slit Maldark's throat right in front of me, discarding him and all his plots revolving around him as if paring one of his fingernails. As the man's lifeless body fell, Fylakas had sent one little glance my way... One little glance that told me that he knew everything, all my plots with Maldark against him. How had I ever thought I could keep a secret from him, of all people?! He'd taught me everything I know about secrets.</p><p></p><p>Before the city had erupted against us, and against all sorcerers. Even as he spoke, the mob raged through our shop, destroying and burning, though of course they couldn't penetrate the Veil of Unknowing he'd placed over the back rooms where we lived and did our real work.</p><p></p><p>In that week of terrified, breathless anticipation, I had learned some awful truths about myself... That I was a blind fool, as Fylakas himself had told me the year previous. He'd tried to show me, blinding me with a spell for a week, but I'd learned nothing from it except to resent him more. That I wasn't any good at manipulation, as the Hierophant had told me. (How the memory burned!) That - for one of the first things a sorcerer of the Demon God of Secrets learns is to hear what people say about him behind his back - I was a 'slimy little toad', as Merchant Kerma had put it.</p><p></p><p>I couldn't even work up any resentment against him for it, though I wasn't sure of the context in which he'd said it. He was right.</p><p></p><p>I stood before Fylakas... my master, my teacher, the only father I'd ever known. I stood before him cringing, head down, shoulders slumped; nor was I faking it, as I had when he'd caught me out last year. I'd learned nothing then, and now it was too late.</p><p></p><p>"Look at me," he commanded, and the force of my Vow compelled me. I raised my eyes to his, miserable and fearful. And I saw that, to my surprise, he wasn't angry with me. He was... sad. He looked nearly as miserable as me, I thought.</p><p></p><p>But my misery lurched abruptly into shock as he pronounced, slowly and clearly, "Mathitis, I release you from your Vow of service." I felt it snap within me and wondered wildly for one split second if it was all a trick, a test... but no. Not even Shaprenka himself could fake something that profound - it rocked me to the core of my being, then passed as quickly as it had come.</p><p></p><p>I could do nothing but gape at him open-mouthed like a fish out of water as he said slowly, sadly, "You have been a son to me, the only son I will ever have. And I know I have given you reason enough to hate me. But promise me once more, now that you are free: Be a better man than I have been. Never betray anyone as I betrayed Milos, whom I now realize too late was my friend. Promise me, Mathitis."</p><p></p><p>I stammered and stuttered, then managed to get out, "I promise, Master." He shook his head. "Master no longer." I blinked back tears. "F-father, then." An orphan of the streets, what other father had I ever known? He opened his arms to me and I fell into them as I hadn't since I was a little boy. He embraced me, then slowly kissed my forehead. Somehow I sensed it - he was saying goodbye.</p><p></p><p>He released me, then said sadly, "I cannot continue with the burden of things I have done, son. If it will give you any peace of heart after the things that have passed between us, you may kill me yourself. Otherwise, I shall take my own life."</p><p>This was all too much to process after the week of frightened expectation I had endured - my own fear, I now realized, blinding me to Fylakas' own suffering. "I... I... I can't! You can't!"</p><p></p><p>He told me with a terrible soft gentleness, "I can and I will. You need not watch unless you wish." I fled from him then, the tears flowing freely now, scalding hot. I wanted to plead with him, scream at him, beg him, tell him I loved him, tell him I hated him, anything but look into those soft sad eyes, so different from any expression I'd seen in them before. I wanted to sleep a week, spend a month thinking through my life, and know he'd be waiting for me at the end. Perhaps I'd find a way to make him proud someday.</p><p></p><p>The one thing I assuredly did not want to do was watch him die.</p><p></p><p>But Shaprenka, my Demon God, was fickle as ever. He gave me the Sight, all unbidden, for secrets are cruel and cut like knives. (That had been Fylakas' first lesson, the first words he'd said to me after I'd sworn my Vow.) I watched, unable not to watch, as Fylakas selected a ritual dagger, tested its edge against his thumb. He tidied his workspace for the last time, always a fastidious Worker. He laid down a tarp to avoid staining the floor.</p><p></p><p>And I wept as he slowly cut his own wrists lengthwise, the Old Imperial way, the way for regaining one's honor. Then he lay down on the tarp, straightening himself with dignity and crossing his arms over his chest as his life drained away. He did not waver, did not cry out. Only near the end did he speak, whispering, "Milos, forgive me."</p><p></p><p>I didn't know where my life would lead me after that. But I did know that I would have my own small revenge against Shaprenka: Fylakas' life and death, both the good and the bad, the bitter and the sweet, would not remain forever a secret.</p><p></p><p>And I knew that I had a promise to keep.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shadow, post: 6147789, member: 16760"] [This is an epilogue to the game. If you haven't seen the end of the game, go up and read that first!] [center][B]Mathitis' Tale[/B][/center] When Fylakas told me curtly, "Attend me in the sanctum," I knew that my doom was at last going to fall upon me. I'd been expecting it for a week, and the waiting had been a torture in itself... I hadn't lied when I'd told the Hierophant that my master could inflict spiritual torments upon me; I had only lied that I thought he would. But that was before. Before he'd calmly slit Maldark's throat right in front of me, discarding him and all his plots revolving around him as if paring one of his fingernails. As the man's lifeless body fell, Fylakas had sent one little glance my way... One little glance that told me that he knew everything, all my plots with Maldark against him. How had I ever thought I could keep a secret from him, of all people?! He'd taught me everything I know about secrets. Before the city had erupted against us, and against all sorcerers. Even as he spoke, the mob raged through our shop, destroying and burning, though of course they couldn't penetrate the Veil of Unknowing he'd placed over the back rooms where we lived and did our real work. In that week of terrified, breathless anticipation, I had learned some awful truths about myself... That I was a blind fool, as Fylakas himself had told me the year previous. He'd tried to show me, blinding me with a spell for a week, but I'd learned nothing from it except to resent him more. That I wasn't any good at manipulation, as the Hierophant had told me. (How the memory burned!) That - for one of the first things a sorcerer of the Demon God of Secrets learns is to hear what people say about him behind his back - I was a 'slimy little toad', as Merchant Kerma had put it. I couldn't even work up any resentment against him for it, though I wasn't sure of the context in which he'd said it. He was right. I stood before Fylakas... my master, my teacher, the only father I'd ever known. I stood before him cringing, head down, shoulders slumped; nor was I faking it, as I had when he'd caught me out last year. I'd learned nothing then, and now it was too late. "Look at me," he commanded, and the force of my Vow compelled me. I raised my eyes to his, miserable and fearful. And I saw that, to my surprise, he wasn't angry with me. He was... sad. He looked nearly as miserable as me, I thought. But my misery lurched abruptly into shock as he pronounced, slowly and clearly, "Mathitis, I release you from your Vow of service." I felt it snap within me and wondered wildly for one split second if it was all a trick, a test... but no. Not even Shaprenka himself could fake something that profound - it rocked me to the core of my being, then passed as quickly as it had come. I could do nothing but gape at him open-mouthed like a fish out of water as he said slowly, sadly, "You have been a son to me, the only son I will ever have. And I know I have given you reason enough to hate me. But promise me once more, now that you are free: Be a better man than I have been. Never betray anyone as I betrayed Milos, whom I now realize too late was my friend. Promise me, Mathitis." I stammered and stuttered, then managed to get out, "I promise, Master." He shook his head. "Master no longer." I blinked back tears. "F-father, then." An orphan of the streets, what other father had I ever known? He opened his arms to me and I fell into them as I hadn't since I was a little boy. He embraced me, then slowly kissed my forehead. Somehow I sensed it - he was saying goodbye. He released me, then said sadly, "I cannot continue with the burden of things I have done, son. If it will give you any peace of heart after the things that have passed between us, you may kill me yourself. Otherwise, I shall take my own life." This was all too much to process after the week of frightened expectation I had endured - my own fear, I now realized, blinding me to Fylakas' own suffering. "I... I... I can't! You can't!" He told me with a terrible soft gentleness, "I can and I will. You need not watch unless you wish." I fled from him then, the tears flowing freely now, scalding hot. I wanted to plead with him, scream at him, beg him, tell him I loved him, tell him I hated him, anything but look into those soft sad eyes, so different from any expression I'd seen in them before. I wanted to sleep a week, spend a month thinking through my life, and know he'd be waiting for me at the end. Perhaps I'd find a way to make him proud someday. The one thing I assuredly did not want to do was watch him die. But Shaprenka, my Demon God, was fickle as ever. He gave me the Sight, all unbidden, for secrets are cruel and cut like knives. (That had been Fylakas' first lesson, the first words he'd said to me after I'd sworn my Vow.) I watched, unable not to watch, as Fylakas selected a ritual dagger, tested its edge against his thumb. He tidied his workspace for the last time, always a fastidious Worker. He laid down a tarp to avoid staining the floor. And I wept as he slowly cut his own wrists lengthwise, the Old Imperial way, the way for regaining one's honor. Then he lay down on the tarp, straightening himself with dignity and crossing his arms over his chest as his life drained away. He did not waver, did not cry out. Only near the end did he speak, whispering, "Milos, forgive me." I didn't know where my life would lead me after that. But I did know that I would have my own small revenge against Shaprenka: Fylakas' life and death, both the good and the bad, the bitter and the sweet, would not remain forever a secret. And I knew that I had a promise to keep. [/QUOTE]
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