~
There are two things in this world that hold meaning.
Power and Lineage.
The species relative to your birth, that being Livery, Arlean, Katrina or otherwise, holds meaning that lasts for the rest of your life.
Even if you luck out, even if you somehow carve a life for yourself amidst the refuse of those that came before, It can all be taken away by those stronger than you.
And so the meager flock like sheep to those who can protect them. And the meager suffer for it, as do their Lords. All the way up until you reach the Supremus and Imperius.
Gods that control every aspect of life, down to what you wear and what you eat, for all of eternity.
Those with weak minds and constitutions look at them as such, guideposts that direct the fate of Constantine, the world at Large.
But even those that steer the ship are held captive by the tides they sail upon.
So, my eager child, who is truly free in this World we call home?
~
The Lacquered Tongue is a nation-wide staple amongst the People of Cannaris. Host to a plethora of Eastern Dishes, hailing from Ancient Zhengyuan and their idyllic sense of natural cuisine, the locale's unique tastes give credence to it's Esteemed clientele, even with it's reputation as a Tavern.
Whether your aim is to get drunk or full, the Tongue attracts those with both the appetite and pockets to match it's eclectic fare.
Which is possibly why it attracted someone like him in the first place.
Through the Ivory Doors, amidst scant commotion and well-dressed servers, the Man partook of his necessities with a measured hand and an excitable flair for Meats. One could surmise they were his predominant weakness, given the heavenly texture and flavor of the Establishment's many offerings.
As he ate, every serving he chewed through improving his paltry mood, those around him took notice of his childlike interest in his meal. It was difficult not too, his loud exaltations and complements to no one in particular draining the pedantic atmosphere those who had come to know the Lacquered Tongue by had expected and hoped for.
Regardless of their simmering responses, he continued to eat, heedless to the group of offended practitioners that had enclosed his backwards flank as they attempted to confront his auspicious air.
"There's a Pig Trough down the way if you prefer to dine with those similar to your own."
"This is a respected establishment, after all. Denigrating it's reputation with your presence is something we can't allow."
Harsher words hadn't been spoken to him in quite a time. But it still wasn't enough to distract him from his heavenly meal. The Peiensu Soup in particular was delectable beyond words.
As they continued their infantile bickering, the Man noticed his appetite wane enough to offer words of his own.
"Gentlemen, please. Can't a man enjoy a meal in peace?" His lips upturned to form a prudish smile, casting frowns on those who perceived it. It was unseemly coming from a man of his towering stature and hardy build.
"That's what we want as well, friend. Keep your enjoyment to your self, by the Imperius. It's grating on the soul." A Well-endowed man, endowed in the sense that his gut extended past his ability to stretch forward, remarked coldly. His acquaintance, an equally portly officiant, nodded in agreement.
"But of course, friend. Deepest apologies for the disturbance." As he spoke, the Man lifted himself from his seat, bowl of freshly seasoned Peiensu Soup in one hand, as he downed it in one hearty gulp, slurping noisily as he did so. Now he had garnered the attention of the entire Establishment, earning looks of Incredulousness by the paltry act.
"You-you mean to make a fool of me!?" The Blubberous Instigator remarked, grabbing the collar of the man's Cardigan as he raised his arms aloft in hostile passivity, the smile still remaining on his face. Such a sight only acted to fuel the Practitioners anger even more.
"S-sirs, may I ask that you take this outside?" An orderly pleaded aloud, speaking on behalf of the entire Tavern by this point. Those who weren't vaguely intrigued by the procession of events were just as annoyed as the Instigator, made docile by drink and good food.
"No need. I planned on leaving anyways." The man answered, tossing a hefty chunk of coins on the table he had just sat at prior to the altercation. Stepping away from the Prude's weak grip, he sauntered towards the entryway as if the entire building didn't have their eyes intently trained on him .
"My compliments to the Chef." And with a final word in edgewise, the Man disappeared through the Ivory doors acting as partition between the Lacquered Tongue and the rest of Divina.
"Hey, you Bastard! Don't think you can just walk away!" The Man could faintly hear the callous words of a creature barely above that of a beast screaming inside the Tavern, but ignored them just as you would a sinew of rainfall.
Placing his hands neatly in the pockets of his overwear, The Man retraced the path he had taken moments before, only to be interrupted by the sudden introduction of a foreign object being thrown at the back of his head. A pebble the size of his palm bounced unimaginatively off his skull as he turned around to look at his adversary.
It was, unsurprisingly, the instigator from within the Tavern, joined by his posse of lesser men who careened with barely hidden fury at their Master's behest.
"Quite the Gall you have to tarry against Ferdinand the Great! Know your place, Knave, and bow to me. Only then may I forgive your trespass!" The Man thought to himself for a moment, barely concerned with the threat pointed towards him.
'Ferdinand the Great? What a childish thing to call himself at his age. Best keep moving before I get caught in whatever sick Fantasy he embroils himself in.' And in a move that angered those who challenged him even further, he continued walking along the Busy Crossroads that marked the Commercial Sector of Divina.
"If you won't answer with words, then you shall answer with blood, fool!" One of the Instigator's sideshows rushed forwards, the dagger in his hand gleaming against the noon-time light of the rising sun. Raising the implement above his head as he began to strike, the Gauntly Attendant felt a dark sensation supplant his rage with something he had never experienced before. Pushing through the feeling, he brought the knife down against his mark's inner shoulder, hoping for a clean cut to ward him off.
It acted as anything but.
"You never learn." The Man muttered, more so to himself than anyone else, as the Dagger aimed at his back stopped in it's track, alongside the attacker that wielded it. And in that moment, the world went silent.
Sweat began to drain down the Fool's face, his body refusing to move or retaliate against the odd phenomenon. Those that idly walked along, and even his peers and Master, were completely held against time. Frozen in a Moment that he instinctively felt could mark his death.
"Wh-what is this?" He asked as the dagger in his outstretched hand fell to the ground, the only object in the surrounding space that acted alongside logic. His eyes moved accordingly, individual spheres of thought within his immobile head, looking with fear towards the Man he had attacked so foolishly.
He had heard rumors, quaint stories passed down from Poets and Rhapsodes along his Master's Journey. Of Men who could control the flow of Time itself. Those who formed Contracts with the Heavens above to obtain righteous power.
"You seem confused, friend. Let me reorient you." The Man, walking towards his attacker with measured steps, grew larger and more potent in the weeping cretin's mind. No. It wasn't that his form had changed. It was his growing influence he ordained within the space he had created.
"By the Imperius. You're one of them, aren't you?!" He exclaimed, his mouth able to form words only by the will of the Man edging closer and closer to him.
Now mere inches away, the Man grabbed hold of the side of the quivering attendant's head, earning a painfilled expression from him in return. He wretched and bleated against the red hot sensation boiling within his psyche as he felt himself melt within and without.
"You and your allies are in deep waters, boy. Swim back to shore." And as he spoke, the World returned to it's natural hue and tempo, passerby continuing their leisure with a mixture of conversations playing around them like melodious rapture. They had returned to the waking world, but the attendant still felt the claws of death wrapped tightly around him.
Brought back to his own thoughts, he felt his appendages roughly, surprised to find his faculties returned to him. He peered towards his Master and the rest of his peers, earning a Shocked expression from them as they perceived a dozen actions in the span of mere moments.
Burgeoned on by a primordial fear, the Attendant screamed wildly as he bolted away towards the crowd that permeated the Commercial District around them, followed swiftly by his retreating fellows. Only the so called Ferdinand the Great remained, his face pale and flecked with sweat before he too joined his Subordinates as they scattered alongside innocent passerby.
Letting out a sigh of relief, intentionally oblivious to the eyes trained on him as a result of the commotion, the Man felt himself relax in time with the disappearance of his annoyance.
'Great Eliandra, what is this country coming to?' Fixing the hem of his loosened cardigan, the Man edged forward towards the Clearing that acted as a central pavilion amidst the Commercial District. A great Circadian Tree loomed overhead, it's amber leaves mixing well with the Bright sun rising above it, offering adequate shade as he collected himself. Reaching towards the satchel on his side, he pulled out a note given to him not too long ago.
It's contents were slightly faded, but remained legible even after the scuffle. Within was a detailed portrait of a Boy, simple in appearance with one hallmark characteristic that continued to peak his interest since he first came into contact with such information. Underneath read a few lines of relevant information that would help him in his search.
Town of Esquire, Merchantry Village. North of the Cantimire Forest.
Be Vigilant. Those who hold grievances against his kind may have already struck.
If So, return to sender and report to Dovalin.
Barely enough to go by in terms of his normal fare, but the essence of this task held importance to him on a personal level. Finding his mark meant everything to him, but the lengths and distances he had already travelled left him feeling doubtful of whether or not he would be successful.
As he sat idly against the Bark of the Circadian Tree, intermingled with others who enjoyed it's shade, he neatly wrapped the note back into it's resting place, before rising once more. After he had collected enough rations to sustain him for the rest of his journey, he would join the road once more in search of Esquire. And while time was of the essence, the Man couldn't help but enjoy the serenity of calm the peaceful Divina offered.
'Such a different time. I wonder what he would think.' He was not one to remain on past emotions, but the soft breeze that coaxed his greyish hair against his scalp also coaxed his sentimentality. As the onset of fatigue settled inside his legs, he moved to capitulate them back awake. Now wasn't the time to be idle. He was so close, after all.
'I'm coming, Yovin. When I find you, may we enjoy this shade together like old times.'