Who's the Darklord? [3]

[Rock of the Fraternity]

The nation is in ruins.
The common people have given up on the rule of law, and huddle in their freshly-walled communities. If they think about the rule of the nation at all, then they pray to Ezra that the nobles who regularly demand taxes in the form of food, goods and troops will not decide to just take it all.
The nobles have given up on the rule of law, and guide their men-at-arms and knights across the land in bloody battles. Of course they are always thinking about the rule of law - their rule, their law. Surely they pray to Ezra to grant them victory over their competitors, but then they also pray to the Lawgiver, to the Wolf God, to any patron that might give them an edge over the others.

In a palace grown cold, attended only by a skeleton crew of terrified servants, the King sits, largely alone and ignored. He maintains a fragile control over the nobles, playing them off against each other so they keep their attentions focused on one another, rather than turn to raze his capitol city and murder him on their way to the throne.
How did it all go so wrong, so very wrong? How did he come to this, forced to lurk in his cold palace, bereft of the family who were his hands and feet, bereft of the armies that once marched at his whim, bereft of the luxury and comforts appropriate to his station?
After all, he did nothing wrong.
He was the king, anointed by the high priest of Ezra, scion of a long line of kings. When enemies rose, he sent forth his enemies to suppress and exterminate them, root and branch, and he ordered his subject to go forth and populate the new lands. If the nobles served him well, they were rewarded. If they conspired to sway him or betray him, they were exterminated root and branch, and their wealth swelled the king's coffers. This was right. This was good.
Of course nothing lasts forever, even the life of a king, so he had diligently sired offspring upon his wives and concubines. The children, he ordered to be educated. He ordered that they be tested and tried, again and again. To be king was to be the strongest, to be the apex predator in the political jungle, and it was the law of that jungle that he wanted his children to experience and master.

Maybe it all went wrong with his fifth son borne by his fifth concubine. The boy was weak and fearful, ignorant of the necessity of his lessons. Rather than learn and grow strong, he tried to retreat from conflict and form alliances with his siblings instead of standing alone and attracting subordinates. Weakness could not be tolerated in one who was to be the king's possible successor, and so he had been punished.
Again. And again. And again. Was it not a father's duty to strengthen his son and educate him in the realities of the world? Weakness leads to destruction. Defiance and failure lead to punishment. Only strength prevails.
But the boy would not be strong. Instead, he fled in the dark of night, a boy barely grown into a man, and he did not even take money to ease his way! The king had let him run, disappointed in his child, so disappointed that he did not even bother to have him killed.
Things ... were not right after that. Maybe it was that the king's other sons and daughters thought that he had shown weakness by not disposing of their sibling. Surely that must be it. What other reason could they have had to grow so intractible, to start muttering together in corners, even those who had been fighting each other for the right to succeed him?
But if they thought he was weak, then why had they scattered the way they did? Here a son had taken up a diplomatic post in an allied kingdom, only to disappear without a trace. Then a daughter had married a man whose station disqualified her from the succession. Some just fled in the dark of night, like the first son to flee, and at least one fought the king's guards to the death, rather than be dragged back. It had been a bad time, with his children eyeing him with hate, yet making no move to rise one above the other and become his successor. A lost generation.

He had still been strong, the king. Strong enough, patient enough, to do what needed to be done. He stopped teaching his ungrateful offspring, stopped testing them. Let them do the various jobs they claimed to desire, in their weakness and cowardice, their unwillingness to master the jungle.
Watched them, as they relaxed, weakened. As they took spouses and reproduced. Even the first son to flee was watched, and a report reached the king that the coward had wed a common woman, who had given stillbirth four times, then borne him a daughter.

Patient enough, the king, to do what needed to be done. He sent out his soldiers on the high holy day of Ezra, and gathered his grandchildren to him in the palace. The palace was then sealed off to all but his chosen servants and educators, inaccessible to all but royal messengers, and the king set about to educate the little children.
Surely his mistake had been that he had started too late with his own children. And so he taught the little ones about the law of the jungle, about the rights and duties that came with their privileged station... about the need to be the apex predator if they would be high king or high queen. He did not discriminate between men and women; he was a forward-thinking monarch.

Some of the little ones did not survive the tests he sent their way, which was a shame. Those who did suspected each other, and started to compete in earnest. That was good. But then he sent a test to her; fifth child of his fifth son by his fifth concubine, the only one out of five to live. She lingered between life and death for five days because of the poison, but she was strong; she lived. That was good.
The king had scattered clues like breadcrumbs, clues that should have made her suspect one of her cousins... and she saw through them. Even as young as she was, her mind was that keen. It pleased the king.
What did not please him, was the way she reacted.

Apart from the tests and lessons, the king had spared no expense when it came to the comforts and luxuries available to his grandchildren. The best cooks prepared their food, the greatest seamstresses made their clothes. They did not want for jewellery and toys. The realm's wisest scholars were their teachers.
In the space of an hour, the child that lived stripped all the finery from her room, tossed out her ornaments and toys as though they were garbage, and banished her maids from her company. She no longer attended lessons, nor family meetings, unless she was forced to. And even if forced to do so, she barely spoke even if spoken to. Oh, she continued her education, but now she preferred to do so alone, studying endlessly in the castle's library. She still ate, but she would eat only what she could steal from the larder or pick from the gardens.
The child that lived, lived on. As alone as she could manage. Isolating herself from the family, admitting no one into her confidence, accepting nothing that was offered to her. She grew pale, her once-smooth forehead marked by a scowl, her once sapphire-bright eyes cold and empty like glass.

The first time the king saw what his grandchild had become, there had come an unfamiliar feeling to his strong and dutiful heart. It was a feeling he did not know, but he did not like it.
It was not ... right that a child of his line should be like this, so ... so unhappy. None of his children had ever rejected the pleasures and luxuries of their station, or refused flat-out to let any servants approach them. Except the fifth son. The one who fled.
Maybe it was fear of history repeating itself, that caused the king to act contrary to his nature. He tried to find ways to make her happy, his grandchild, his Kaina. She liked to read and study, so he opened a private library for her.
She refused to go anywhere near it.
Kaina had taken to wearing only unadorned black, snapping and snarling at the seamstresses until they obeyed, equal parts saddened and frightened. The king sent her gorgeous gowns of pink, adorned with diamonds, had them placed in her wardrobe as a surprise.
A servant came and reported the gowns had been buried in a manure pile.
Kaina had once enjoyed horse-riding, and playing with the dogs. The king bestowed a pony upon her, and had a litter of puppies waiting in her room for her.
The pony was never visited. The puppies were found wandering the corridors of the palace; banished from the little princess's chambers just as were the maids.
The king had Kaina's chambers redecorated, sent new maids, ones experienced in dealing with difficult children. Every time, Kaina ripped, tore and shredded the new decorations to tatters and trash, stripping her chambers bare. She threw out the toys and ornaments like garbage, and the maids soon fled her wrath and refused to return to her side. One grandmotherly old woman finally whispered a word, which found its way to the king's ear: Magic!
The little girl had kept breaking everything and driving off everyone he sent her with a wizard's magic!

As difficult as Kaina had proven to be, the king was well-pleased. There were but a handful of true wizards in his kingdom, all of them men of high esteem, and by necessity all largely self-taught. Now, there was Kaina, self-taught due to all of her studying and reading, all alone.
He had a word for the feeling that now surged in his heart: pride. And joy. Imagine, if he could make Kaina see the joy in mastering the law of the jungle! She could be a Wizard-Queen!
And so the king had Kaina brought to him, that they might speak. There was no word in him for the disquiet he felt when she stood before him, child of his child, curtsying with flawless form but refusing to meet his eyes. Pale, her hair tied back plainly, her mouth turned down and a frown above eyes that held no childlike wonder, not even a hint of joy. Body too thin, and dressed in black like a mourner. Or a corpse.
It was a difficult conversation, with the child saying as little as possible, confirming nor denying, showing no interest, for Ezra's sake, in acquiring power and rule! Maybe the king's mistake was that he had not been patient -- or that he had not learned how best to speak with little children. He had asked her what she wanted most, then been taken aback by the answer: "I want to go home."
Did she not want to be a princess, maybe even a queen?
"No."
Did she not want to be wealthy, eat nice food, wear pretty dresses?
"No."
Did she not want to be a mighty wizard and help defend the nation?
"No."
Did she not want to marry and see her children grow up in the palace, in luxury?

The way she looked at him then had hurt. What she said, that hurt worse: "I hate it here. I don't want to have babies here, just so you and your nobles can poison them and make them kill each other."
He had not understood the pain, and so had bidden her leave. But he did not forget her words, and one thing she had said nagged at him. What did she mean, his nobles would poison her children and make them kill one another?
He found out, didn't he? Found the traitors among servants he had thought were true, trying to tempt his grandchildren to noble factions and culling those who refused. He culled them instead, but the damage was done: only a bare handful of grandchildren survived, and there was no way to get more.
He had needed to be strong, after all. He had done what needed doing.
So he considered his last remaining scions, judged them by their merits and flaws. One was most worthy, his grandson Rosen - but he was also the youngest. He would need guidance, protection. He would need Kaina, if only she would serve.

Maybe his mistake was that he had resorted to bargaining and lying. He called Kaina to him, offered her a deal: if she would complete her education, live as a proper princess of the blood and help her cousin Rozen, then on the day she came of age he would unseal the palace and admit her parents.
She could go home.
Maybe that had been his mistake. Yes. Maybe. Maybe he should have been warned by the light that suddenly kindled in her eyes, the ferocity of it. But no. All he heard was Kaina agreeing. All he saw was her allowing the decorators into her room, all he heard was a report that she allowed one trusted maid in, and all he felt was satisfaction because Kaina was finally eating and dressing and studying properly -- and watching over brilliant young Rozen.
The king should have been more attentive, perhaps. Rozen was still keen as mustard, clever and energetic. But then he grew cautious. Even with Kaina watching his every move, heading off plots from the others, the boy grew cautious. Maybe the king should have noticed that his grandson did not look upon his cousin with the confidence of a born ruler, but someone who feared a mountain might fall on his head if he made a mistake. Maybe the king should have noticed that the other children started to walk on eggshells around Rozen, and to look with terror on Kaina.
All he saw was his grandson, rising to the position of the apex predator. All he saw was Kaina, fleshed out and dressed like a princess, watching his heir like a hawk and -- no matter how grudgingly -- accepting tutelage from one of the other wizards. He did not see the warning signs.
Not until it was too late.

The wizard was first to die. He died as wizards should, in fire and violence, and Kaina was the one who killed him.
When the king asked why she'd done it, while the servants were still trying to make repairs and recover the bodies, she replied without guilt or regret: "He said I should leave with him, that we should run far away to countries where there are other wizards. He said I could be an archmage, if I abandoned your country. But I kept my bargain. Are you not pleased, your majesty?"
For the first time, the king realized Kaina had never called him 'grandfather'. Always 'king', always 'your majesty'. But yes, he was pleased with the way she kept their bargain -- even if he now felt guilty, even if he now felt regret.

The other children died after that, one by one.
One tried to drug Kaina. Not to kill her, but to make her dependent. It was a clever, cruel scheme. It was not as cruel as what she did to him, making him scream his way to death right out in the courtyard.
When the king demanded to know why she did it, Kaina answered: "He wanted to remove me from your grandson as guardian, oh king. Are you not pleased that I removed one who defied your will?"
For the first time, the king realized Kaina held no love for her cousins, did not see them as family, did not even see them as human beings who deserved second chances or forgiveness. All she seemed to care about were her parents. It made him feel guilt, it made him feel regret. It made him feel worry.
Some of the other children tried to remove Kaina, acting not to gain power but because she frightened them. What she did to them gave the others even more cause to fear, and they would run and hide, or else fall to their faces and cower if they met her in the palace.
Even Rozen would grow pale and tremble in Kaina's presence, and his efforts in study and training suffered for it. There came a day when he tried to run away from the palace -- and found out that he could not. He grew sick when he tried to leave the castle grounds, and was trapped in a fever dream for days after the servants brought him back.
The king felt suspicion, and asked Kaina a question. Her answer filled his old heart with horror: "I put a curse on him. He can't leave. Seeing him to the throne is the basis of our deal. He cannot leave. So I made sure he never can."
She said it without guilt, without regret, without doubt. In her eyes, the king saw no empathy, nor even an inkling that there were lines that should not be crossed.

It made him dwell on the lines he had crossed.
He dwelled on them at night, robbing him of sleep. He dwelled on them when he attended the children's lessons, watching all of them tremble and grow pale in Kaina's presence. Watched them shrink in on themselves like shadows in her presence, while she alone grew in power and held to the letter of their bargain, caring not one hair and giving not a thought to its spirit.

In the end, the king decided that he must do what was necessary. He called to him the one maid allowed to enter Kaina's quarters. She had been Kaina's first maid, the only one eager to return to her. It seemed she loved her princess as though she were her own daughter, even if Kaina returned none of that affection.
To this maid, the king spoke at length. She agreed with him in the end, though she wept for it, and accepted the poison from his hand. She bore it with her, a sweet toxin that had once sent her beloved princess to the border between life and death for days of fevered torment.
For the first time since he had been a child, the king wept. He wept in solitude, for it was not appropriate that his subordinates should see tears in his eyes. He wept for the glory that was not to be, for the wizard now lost to his kingdom, for the child that had inexplicably turned out wrong.
(Yes, he had made mistakes, but surely none to justify this!)

The dawn came with fire. It came with a howl of rage. It came with the scent of smoke, the screams of the king's remaining grandchildren and terrified guards and servants. The sounds of rending stone, of screaming horses, of burning wood.
Kaina, in the middle of the courtyard, hurling death and destruction about. Her body garbed in unrelieved black, without embroidery, without gems. Her hair wild and unbound, her eyes like glass. In one hand, the head of the maid who had loved her like a daughter, dangling from a section of spinal cord. Dripping gore over bare feet. The corpses of her cousins, strewn about like broken dolls.
Their eyes met, and the king's scion, the girl he had once wanted to be his heir, screamed such profanity at him that he drew his sword for the first time in decades. Surely this could not be borne.
"You KILLED them!" Kaina raged at him. "You KILLED THEM! Before I even arrived! Monster! MURDERER!"
He was a king, still. He did not justify her accusations by answering them, he charged in for battle.

He was still strong; still fast. Kaina drew back her hand for a sorcerous blast just as he came upon her, leaping over poor Rozen's shattered corpse. The sword went in -- and her hand came down. There was a roar of power, and then... silence. Darkness.

The king did not know how long he hovered between life and death, but he came to. He came to, and found himself in a world gone mad.
His castle was stripped bare of all that had made it the most beautiful, the most luxurious place in the kingdom. Only a handful of servants dared to dwell there, the rest having fled Kaina's rampage and dreading her return.
The nobles knew his bloodline had been extinguished, and were themselves rampaging across the land. Each family wanted to slaughter all of the others, to become king on a tide of blood. None sought advantage through manipulation and cleverness, violence was all they believed in.
It was the law of the jungle, but not as the king had believed in it. The principle of power and control had been twisted into something brutal and mindless.
And he could not rise to power in the way he believed in. He was old now, weak and alone. He must use whispers and lies, poison and bribes. There was still money in the castle, great rooms full of it, but no men-at-arms would answer the call of the one they called the Failed Man, no knights would swear themselves to the banner of the one they called Kinslayer. There were few craftsman around, and those busy forging weapons and armour, rebuilding homes; none had the time to 'waste' on providing luxuries to a castle that might almost be believed to be a haunted ruin.
How could he have deserved this, he, a king who had only done as his father had taught him and wanted his successor to be strong as well as wise?
Why did he linger on his throne of stone, why did death not take him? Why did Kaina? Rumours sometimes came to the king; of the mad wizard, filled with rage and grief, who lurked in the Far Forest. She was fine as long as she stayed there, meditating and studying, but sometimes some poor fool would seek refuge in the woods and try to steal from her, enslave her or even beg her mercy.
Her rampages after such encounters were monstrous, and foul creatures of darkness lurked on the fringes of the Far Forest now. Drawn to her evil, her total lack of empathy for anyone, even for herself, yet wise enough not to approach her. They visited their malice on the king's people, instead, and in her name.

Why would death not come for the man who had failed?
Why would death not come for the woman who saw no virtue in life?

And who is the Darklord?
Is it the king who believed in the law of the jungle to the point that he lost sight of human decency, who still worships strength to the point that he meddles in the affairs of warring nobles to keep them from claiming his crown, instead of trying to broker peace?
Or is it the young woman who could have easily run when she came into her power, but instead held to a deal with a man she had no reason to trust, and visited terror and death on everyone who tried to get close to her?

[Mistmaster]

The king. In my hopinion he is the cause of all the woes of his family and kingdom.

[brothersale]

I would say the king is the darklord as the domain more reflect his nature than Kaina. But that said i would say she is a potential darklord in waiting (like the Brain or Senmet) if she does not change her path.

[Baron Von Stanton]

The king. In my hopinion he is the cause of all the woes of his family and kingdom.

Seconded. The king created the entire mess with his need to create a strong and ruthless, empathy-free heir, only to regret his own role when he realized his heir had no empathy for him to boot.

[The Lesser Evil]

Although we know relatively less of Kaina as she is somewhat presented as the unknown, mysterious Other, the evidence seems to point to the king- the Failed Man- as the darklord, for the tale suggests more of a history of proactive evil on his part, with Kaina's evil being in part exacerbated in reaction to his. Her rebellion started with mere defiance, vandalism, and cruelty but seemingly became worse as she was separated from her parents and coerced into playing along with the king's game. The king was engineering purges of the nobility and even his own household long before she came along. I would suspect the torturous competitions he forced his grandchildren through also contributed to the darkening of her heart.

In addition, Kaina seems to have rejected the reins of power. This rejection is uncommon to darklords- whom usually use and abuse whatever power is readily available to them. The king on the other hand, embraces the privilege and luxuries of nobility- which would not have been so bad in and of itself, but he sees the role of the ruler as one of predation (the apex predator) rather than of duty or service to the people. He sees weakness as a flaw, even a sin to be punished- thus making his curse of physical and metaphorical weakness one appropriate of him as a darklord.

Finally, the king also seems to have had at least one moment for atonement, in seeing his own brutality and transgressions reflected back through witnessing Kaina's. Yet like Soth and other darklords, he seems to have ultimately ignored the get out of darklord epiphany by deciding the reckoning with his granddaughter would be death as opposed to reconciliation or letting go. The implication seems to be that he was willing to potentially sacrifice his other grandchildren to get at Kaina- or at least send somebody so unscrupulous.

[alhoon]

Very good verdict from Lesser Evil. I am convinced.

[Manofevil]

I wonder if Co-darklordship like that of Adam/Mordenheim wouldn't be most accurate. Kaina seems to live only to punch the king the same way Adam lives to punish Mordenheim and Mordenheim and the king seem to be persevering despite their curses.

[Mistmaster]

I wonder if Co-darklordship like that of Adam/Mordenheim wouldn't be most accurate. Kaina seems to live only to punch the king the same way Adam lives to punish Mordenheim and Mordenheim and the king seem to be persevering despite their curses.

Co-Darklordship here would be wrong like it is Canon Adam-Victor; In fact in my Lamordia, Victor is the sole Darklord, Adam is C/N. Cicror, in my hopinion is the sole responsable of all the wrongs, like the king here.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

I wonder if Co-darklordship like that of Adam/Mordenheim wouldn't be most accurate. Kaina seems to live only to punch the king the same way Adam lives to punish Mordenheim and Mordenheim and the king seem to be persevering despite their curses.

Actually, Kaina mostly just lurks in the Far Forest. She spends her time doing enough work to stay alive and moderately comfortable, studies her books and spends a lot of time dwelling on the past and grieving over her few remaining mementos of her parents. She doesn't even go outside the Far Forest's boundaries unless some schmuck comes into her territory and gets her riled up by, say, trying to steal one of the few belongings she values, getting ideas about what they might do to a woman they find living alone in the forest, or knocking on the door to her shack and asking for a cup of water.
When she does leave the Far Forest, she tends to wipe out every living creature she finds within a one-mile radius before going back, but she doesn't seek out anyone in particular. She hasn't been back to the castle since she finally left it, after butchering her cousins, most of the palace staff and guards, and (or so she thought at the time) her grandfather.

Of course her very existence torments the King, not to mention the state to which she has fallen (more or less a rabid animal when roused from a lifestyle more befitting a self-sufficient hermit than a member of the royal family [not to mention currently the only member of the royal family theoretically capable of reviving the line by having children]), but she has no interest in punishing him directly. While generally too insane to know fear, the thought of going anywhere near the castle makes her skin crawl. Currently, she is unaware that her grandfather is even alive, and too insane to let anyone who could tell her live long enough to do so if they get within shouting range.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Ta-da...

[Mistmaster]

Acharistos? Disgraced? I like that.

[Rock of the Fraternity]

Acharistos? Disgraced? I like that.

'Ungrateful'. ^_^

[Rock of the Fraternity]

I added some additional material to Acharistos, and would appreciate any feedback you guys would like to give. ^_^