//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 : Awakening // Story: Branded by Friendship // by redstone //------------------------------// The Roman Empire. We, citizens, just call it “Empire”, as our enemies do, although they mention it with dread in their hearts when there is only pride in ours. I personally feel disgust and anger, but then again most citizens are not in my position. I’ve studied the sordid history that our cultural guardians strive to cover up, I’ve seen what lies below the gold coated temples and I’ve personally felt the rampant injustice in our society. It started from a crazy idea put in the mind of a power angry Caesar. He had dreamt of a world ruled by our ways, a world where his face was know by all. Little by little Roman territory had expanded under his command, using silver tongued diplomats and an unstoppable knack for battle tactics. Using either quills and parchment or shields and glavius, the Caesar’s forces marched over the lands bordering what we now call the Roman sea. From the tip of the Iberian Peninsula to the scalding deserts where the great river Nile is born, the Empire has conquered all with ease. All? Not all. One particular set of people held against the invader with particular tenacity. The Roman Legion, previously unmatched, was scattered by a handful of warriors. These warriors did not yield any steel, nor were they organized in battle formations... They were sorcerers, the blood of the pharaohs granting unique Power to the Egyptians. Most of the population was hardy and could coax any soil to bear plentiful harvest, they insured that the pharaohs’ army was well supplied. They were farmers, artisans and hard workers in general. Some were attuned to the elements, they could bring a downpour in an instant and cause a drought in the other, they sank any attempt to attack by sea and were able to bring in the full wrath of the Nile. From the ranks of these elementalists came artists, philosophers and merchants. The last group was few in numbers, but mighty in Power. In times of peace they used their gifts for healing, teaching and served the Pharaoh in many religious events, they were the disciples of Ra, embodiment of the sun and provider of life. They were respected peacekeepers, loved teachers and tenants of the Egyptian culture. But when the Empire came they took a new mantle: they descended upon the Legion like Jupiter himself and unleashed death in the name Ammit, the goddess that even Egyptians feared above all. The only mercy you could hope for was a quick death, for they believed that every soul departing the battlefield would be devoured eternally by Ammit, a fate much more horrible than any pain they could inflict to the living. The Egyptians held for years, the strength of the Empire waisted against Ammit’s children, it wasn’t long before hordes of barbarians, sensing weakness, started to attack our borders. This could have been the end of our reign, and if we are still here today, it is not thanks to our Legion, it is not thanks to our strength in battle... The quill won the war. Spies and diplomats were able to acquire the allegiance of a few Egyptians. They were part of the most powerful caste of sorcerers, but were unhappy with their role as soldiers, and our gold was very tempting. They were avaricious, coward or simply lazy, but they were still very powerful. To buy their place in the Empire they created a spell so cruel, so unnatural and devious that they received the only name that could describe them: Damned. The spell worked in two phases: first the Damned would enchant another sorcerer, putting a stigma on their body. Each stigma was personal to the Damned performing the ritual, it could be a letter, a sign or a symbol, it would be carved into the flesh of the sorcerer. Once the stigma was in place, they would begin the branding procedure. The branding replaced the stigma with a new image, most of the time that image would be the family crest of a Roman noble House. Once branded, a sorcerer was bond to a House, he would be unable to resist any order coming from the family that his brand represented. Little by little the Branded grew in numbers. First they were farmers and elementalists, but before long even the third kind of sorcerers joined the ranks of the most powerful slave army the Empire could hope for. The children of Ammit could not bring themselves to send their brethrens into the maws of their crocodile headed goddess; a few were captured, but most chose eternal torment over enslavement. Thus the Egyptian lands were conquered, the pharaoh branded to the Emperor’s house and the barbarians slaughtered. The Branded became a commodity, a caste below common slaves. The most powerful were weeded out for safety measures or brought into the House of the Damned, the rest were used to solidify the Empire’s strength. The Branded have been a part of Roman society for generations, bred like cattle and forbidden to enter anything close to a friendly relationship with a citizen, under threat of death for both party. Which brings me to my story. My name is Aurora. Fate has decided to take me away from my loved ones, so I will do my best to leave a piece of my being behind. This is my life, the story of Aurora the travelling merchant. I was born in a low class family residing in one of the most foul smelling districts Rome had to offer. Rome is known for its complex sewage system, so how bad can it be you ask? Well my home was situated in the western outskirts of the majestic city, bordering the Tiberis, a river where all the human waste is expelled. Upstream in the richer districts the water is still clean, of course. Only the poor have to deal with the city’s dejections. Most children with my background were looking at a life in binding as becoming a servant in a good House was the best they could hope for. A House of course represents a noble family, a rank obtained via blood or money. Some are known for their kindness towards servants. Most are not. That would have been my destiny if not for my incredible brain. For one, I had the ability to memorize a map of the Empire before losing my first milk tooth: I could name every provinces bordering mare nostrum and point out any important towns without fail. I could recite all the information I had gathered about some of its populations too: the philosophical Greeks, the rebellious Gauls, the mysterious Iberians and perhaps most importantly, the mystical Egyptians. That gift gave me the opportunity to be employed by a merchant before reaching womanhood, my parents received enough sesterces in the deal to consider my childhood expenses paid off. There were no tearful goodbyes, I was happy enough to leave my home without any debt towards them. I was free to devour an astonishing amount of knowledge through the books and scrolls coming in and out of the store i was bound to, while still proving myself useful enough to earn pay and citizenship by the time I was old enough to be a bride. There I learned the craft of trading, I became a source of knowledge. I also understood the art of duplicity. Becoming business partners with my former owner, I chose the life of a traveling merchant, observing trends on merchandise fluctuations, bringing goods where they were most needed, where they could be sold at the highest price. I could have been rich, but most of my wealth was spent away on priceless handwritten tomes that I could never bring myself to sell when finished. Without my uncommon brain I could never have had such a good run at life, for that I am grateful. But it seems that it its now time to taste the bitter price for such a good recognition, for the memories assailing me bring me closer and closer to the abyss. My name is Aurora, and this is my story. ---ΩΩΩ--- A flicker of consciousness, just enough to set the rusted gears in her head in motion. Her first thought was to check her senses. “Darkness, silence and confusion, that is all I can feel.” Life as a traveling merchant teaches you to always keep a cool head, those who do not learn do not last long. Her self-control got her through the horrible last months, it would not waver because of something so trivial as total sensory deprivation. She calmly began to form a mental check list. “Item one, I'm alive. Item two, I can’t feel my… everything. ... Item three, I think I might be dead.” She shredded the imaginary parchment to pieces, obviously her brain couldn’t be trusted with such an important task at the moment. “Relax, first take care of confusion, then move on to the next step, be rational. Lets see, the last thing I remember." she cleared her mind and permitted unrestricted thoughts to appear, trying to sort them out in a list. "Hiding, shadows, anger and fear. Well that’s a start, let's improve on that basis." With a proper course of action established, she felt more confident. "Hiding... I was hiding ... Running from other citizens...” Memories flashed in her mind: the image of an angry mob breaking down a door, the smell of burning torches, shouts of anger and a feeling... the feeling of grabbing something, someone... she could feel herself dragging someone away from the ravenous pack, she remembered the straining in her arms, until her strength failed. Other images appeared: she could see someone’s back as he charged the attackers, then bright flashes as if the room was suddenly engulfed in green fire. ”I was not alone” The realisation gave her a jolt similar to static shock, confirming her life status. Only the living could feel anything. Or at least that was the consensus established by most greek philosophers... Although Diogène would argue that... No no no no focus. “My husband was at my sides” the face a of man appeared, his skin tanned by Egyptian sun, emerald eyes surrounded by a permanent scowl, his bald head sign of a rebellious slave, the faint glow behind his irises giving his mystical origins away. Egyptian sorcerers are a dying race, the power to control natural energy becoming more and more scarce amongst the Branded blood-line. It is said that the ancient pharaohs were capable of controlling the river Nile’s tides on their own, but this was long ago. Now mystics are weakened by the Empire’s controlled breeding, shaping them into useful but inoffensive slaves. However, there were exceptions. “Mès... That was his name... He kept finding his way through the deepest nights, shadows meant safety for us.” She sighed internally. Mès was the most caring man she had ever met, he could be gentle and kind, but if he perceived any threat upon their little family he was capable of the worst violence, making use of his powers in the most horrific ways. “So many times he had to resort to violence." Images she wished could disappear danced in the darkness, scenes of unforgivable brutality. The breeders that owned him as a child always suspected that Mès had the aptitude of a true Ammit soldier, and he had proved them right time and time again since his escape. "I know he hated it, but he wrapped himself in anger out of necessity. He had to leave his pity and remorse behind... For us, to protect me, to protect...” Something was missing, something vitally important had slipped her mind, and she was struggling to grasp it again. “Don't panic, remember the list. Fear... Fear is the key. I was not afraid for him, nor for myself, I was afraid for...” If recalling the existence of her companion was a shock, what happened with this new memory was nothing less than a bolt of raw lightning.She was suddenly aware of her body, she felt the painful energy pulsing through her arms making her fingertips burn, her eyes flew open seeing nothing, she felt the starvation in her lungs and ache in her joints as she rose in a panic. But those informations were only barely registered : this was not a time to be rational. With a sickening sense of dread she reached out for her stomach. There it was, the being that kept her away from despair, the wonderful angel for whom her husband had killed for, safe and sound in her round belly. The overwhelming relief almost made her lose consciousness again. She steeled herself, regained control over her clouded brain and only then did she allow her lungs to fill with a ragged breath of air. “I am happy to see you have recovered some strength, but I must ask you to refrain from moving so suddenly again. You must lie down my dear.” The brutal awakening had left her heart racing, yet hearing that voice coming from the darkness all but stopped it from beating. Aurora turned her head trying to see anything, without success. She called upon her other senses. Whoever had spoken was standing very close to her, voice coming from a considerable height, she could make out gentle breathing, and a scent reminiscent of a sunny day in summer. “Definitely female. Tall, maybe strong. Perfume indicates wealth. She can see me and I can’t, not good.” She had to make sure that she was not mistaken, there was still a chance that her interlocutor was not an enemy. “I’m sorry”, she lied as she obeyed the stranger’s request. She relaxed and found that she was resting on an impossibly soft bed. “I was just afraid for my child.” To put emphasis on that statement she cradled her round stomach and kept her hands there, it was the only measure of protection she could think of. After a moment of silence she tempted her luck with another lie. “I am Caecilia by the way, may I enquire the name of my benefactor?” Aurora waited for a her response, the slight hesitation before her companion answered clawing at her nerves. “You may indeed" her voice was confident yet subdued, a sign of natural authority. "My name is Celestia “short pause “ of Equestria” That was the last proof she needed. The fugitive merchant’s mind went almost into full panic mode. “High class name, belongs to this Equestria House... A horse breeder? Have we been captured? Where is Mès? Does she know? What does she want… No... It can’t be..." The realisation sent her over the edge. If her conclusions were correct, there was only one reason for a citizen to care for her health. "I know what she desires, I won't let her!” Aurora tightened her grip around her belly. The only reason for a female noble to keep a pregnant fugitive alive was obvious. ”If she is alone I have a chance to knock her down and escape. Save my child.” A fierce resolution had settled in her heart while her mind was rushed by waves of panicked thoughts brought forth by a wild maternal instinct. The last remnants of her sanity tried to appease her mind. “What if I can’t run? I'm too heavy, she will catch up to me... You are strong, your legs will carry you without fault. What if she screams? She could sound the alarm right away! Knock her out, you have learned to strike in the dark. What if she wakes up too quickly? I can’t outrun pursuers in my state! KILL HER.” The decision taken, Aurora started to visualise a map representing the space between her and Celestia, making plans for any obstacle or type of terrain she could find in her way, gauging the approximate distance to cross and the noblewoman’s reaction time. Taking into account that her internal dialogue had taken less than two heart beats, Celestia could not have been too suspicious. She flexed her fingers, ready to snare them around Celestia’s neck. She prepared her stomach for the hardship ahead. She quickly sat up using her elbows. It was now or never. She commanded her legs to clear the bed and propel her body forward. Only to find that her lower extremities were not responding, they were not even giving any sign of life. “Wha.. What...” Aurora didn’t even realize that she had spoken out loud. “I am very sorry, but you must realize the extent of your injuries, do not try anything rash” Celestia’s voice was calm and compassionate, a small part of Aurora’s mind registered that it sounded genuine, almost motherly. “My legs, why... Why can’t I feel them?” The bookworm merchant had read about severe traumas to the back causing the loss of mobility, was this the case? Now that she needed them the most, were her legs cold and forever unmoving? The desire for knowledge overpowering fear, she reached out with a trembling hand; she was terrified to touch this flesh that was not hers anymore, like touching a corpse. Aurora instructed her hand to rest on her knee. There was nothing to rest on. Her legs were not paralyzed. They were gone. The next moments were a blur of terror and revulsion for Aurora: her discovery made her wonder what else she could be missing and it’s in morbid fascination that she probed her body, finding that her legs only went as far as her tights, that her blindness would most definitely never recede and that most of her torso was... missing. Her chest was hollow. The crippled woman was past terror. Shock having dissolved the rampage in her mind, she remembered that she was not alone. The one called Celestia had kept a respectful silence while she explored her ravaged body; if Aurora was to have any answers, they would have to come from her, and the most important and perhaps basic question she had could not wait. “How ... How am I still alive?”