The Lust of our fathers

Against that positivism which stops before phenomena, saying “there are only facts,” I should say: no, it is precisely facts that do not exist, only interpretations…

Friedrich Nietzsche



Standing in his Arcanum, the man known as Dantena van Torquaz planned his final hunt of the Slayer the crowds named Sinistros.

By his side, Antoinette assisted her master as a diligent student, even if she allowed herself some interesting suggestions, comparing them both at Emperor Qaralys and Serena von Fulgam – notorious hedonistic lovers.

However, she did her job well, and everything was settled.

“Do you understand the plan?” Torquaz asked.

“Yes Dantena-eldar,’ she nodded. ‘Are you sure it will work, though?

– Certainty is the luxury of kings,’ Torquaz bluntly rejected her question. ‘However, the Three Fundamental Laws of Magic have proven their factuality. If the slayer is indeed a conjurer, he needs access to Knowledge. The Fog will make him lose his mind really quickly otherwise.”

For a magus, knowledge – hidden in secret scrolls, tomes, codex and volumes – were capital. A human never produced magic, he was allowed to harvest surrounding materials – like mana, fel and meteora – and channel universal energies. This was why the Fog represented such a threat. It’s very nature enhanced the capabilities of humans, allowing them to channel their own bodies, opening their minds. However, a magical mind could only be tempered by knowledge. Conjuring in particular offered keys to hidden parts of the brain, which only ‘specific’ mind tricks could keep from frying. And every mind trick only worked a handful of time, thus the need for books.

“I see,’ Antoinette understood. ‘Don’t overdo yourself then, master. Remember, the boys rely on you. So does your sister.”

And on my sister rests the fate of my house.

Standing up, lord Torquaz prepared himself, covering his wraithful face under his hood.

“Join me at the Citadel with Florian. I am going to deliver orders to the Lord Captain.

– The Citadel is strangely cooperative it would seem,’ Antoinette commented.

‘Lord Captain Arthur Paragon is a practical man, and one who values his redemption,’ Torquaz acknowledged, before approaching the doors of his mansion, preparing to face the Fog.

“Is it not your case?” Antoinette commented, serious this time.

Ignoring her, the man known as Dantena van Torquaz opened the gates and engulfed into the brightness of the mists.


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