Chapter 2 - Brutus of Kova
The fire blazed and crackled, it’s meagre light illuminating nothing but the dirty and bright-eyed faces around it. There was a brief, contemplative silence.
A deeper voice followed. It’s harsh note cut clearly through the icy valley in which the hulking, muscled figure sat. The occasional scrape of stone on metal emphasized his words.
“I come from a city of yellow walls, called golden by those who swear to its beauty. The houses, roofed with thatch or yellow stone, reach up to three floors. Outside the yellow walls and the Gate of Skulls lie the slums, a shifting wilderness of thieves and murderers. Before it all, on the west lies the shining filth of the Dead Sea, it’s black waves pushing along the fire-driven fleets of my people. The great plains of the east with their travelling horsemen, grass higher than a standing man. To the south begins the demons-forsaken forest. Beyond those, the blackened parts, the blasted lands.
I was once a great man in Moderost. I, of the house Kova had it in me to rule that place and it’s great navy. And yet, there was one who was jealous of my might. I was to be married to the princess of that place and my family promoted to the upper reaches. I struggled hard, taking land and riches to guarantee the survival of my house. While young, I was the leader of that place in all but name.
But there was one, who I counted my most steadfast ally. We worked together, Julius and I. I gave him titles and land and thought him satisfied. But always, always, his jealousy burned. We would have ruled equally. But when I was married to his love against my will, he burned with the heat of a thousand suns and challenged me to a duel.
I cut down my brother. I thought him dead; and so I would have committed a crime in my society that cast me from my house, and all chance of nobility. Nobles in my land walk untouchable by normal people, living in a city at one time a different level; their own walled and gardened walks blossoming with the smells of oranges high above the normal roads of the people to better block the scent of the street. He who walks upon their paths has the thousand cuts, even an accidental step. He, who touches the nobility decorates the gate of skulls. After years.
All night, to hear the mournful screams of those who have been given the glance of the nobility. To be before their attention is deadly – but for some, who aid their wars and politics, one may be promoted to their ranks. For to have their attention is to have power; perhaps they ennoble those who are a threat. But regardless, it is what I was cast from – a life of luxury and pleasure.
I found, later, that he lived past that scything blow. He took what was mine, and rules now with the greatest army in the world.
So I travelled, wandering, and finding that the skills of my youth were ill suited for anything but killing. I west east, seeking my fortunes in the land of Leone with their olives and their wasted, tired lands. I was unable to enter their towns, neither slave nor master. Friendless I came here, to the north, the land of bitter snow and the smell of past betrayal.”
