A Poor Man's Adventures in the Age Undreamt

[Fallout5368]

Chapter 1- Rebirth in a Pseudo-Roman-Frankish Empire isn't what I expected.

Somehow, I doubt this record will ever survive the ages to come, but I feel the need to write this tale down, nonetheless. Funny, it feels like yesterday that I felt the warm sun of Aquilonia on my face. I can even hear Mother scolding you, Otho, about something or other. Even a decade after your death, I still miss you, brother. But that is for later, I feel. Know, whoever you are, that you read the life of Balor of the Heliograph Tower, born Gallen, called Archivist by his friends, and The Deceiver by his enemies. He, who was born in the fair city of Shamar, where Shadows still dance in its old catacombs.

Shamar, where it all began, and despite all the pain that city holds for me. I still love it, for it also still holds some of my fondest memories in this second life.

Fragmentary excerpt from the Tale of Exiles, recovered by Arkham Miskatonic University archeological team in Southern France circa 1954.

Month of the Bear, Year of the Cobra

For the young man who in this life is called Gallen. The city of Shamar has been his world. As he sits at his desk looking out over the family estate's garden from his room, he felt a sense of peace he had never known in his first life, even though the city smelled of sewage and unwashed masses. For him, Shamar was the most beautiful thing in the world. The perfumed drapes did help, though his mother did question why he preferred the harsh citrus scent.

The soft creaking of his door, followed by the pitter-patter of small feet and by the barely contained laughter, told him all he needed to know about what was about to happen.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrap around his neck. Cutting off the vital air that all beings need. He brings his hands to claw at the arms, but their strength is too great. Already, he can feel the life ebbing away from him as his vision starts to blacken. His only thought was how he never got to build his Wizard Tower.

"Ati, tell Gal to stop being silly. I'm only hugging him." Little Daphne pouts as she hangs limply from her brother's back. Her hazel eyes were filled with mirth, drinking in everything in his room, captivated by the alchemical treatises and notes around him. Her brunette hair, undone, and her tunic, stained with mud, told him that his mother would be having words with the servants about letting her escape… again.

"I'm afraid, Lady Daphne, that Lord Gallen will only take that as a challenge and endeavor to be even more dramatic next time." A pretty young Argossean woman says with a fond smile on her sun-kissed face. Her chestnut hair, cut short to her cheeks, frames her emerald eyes handsomely. Though that beauty also belies a ferocity that compares to the wrath of a tigress.

"Ah, Atia, as ever, a loyal and just handmaiden to the Lady Daphne!" He says, trying his hand at speaking her mother's tongue. He feels like he has gotten it right this time and can't help but grin in pride.

"While I will not stop you from comparing me to gold and silver, my lord, I don't think you meant to call me Lady Daphne's literal hands." She says, trying to hold back her laughter. "It was a good try, my lord, but you still mix up the subject and emphasis of your words."

Cursing under his breath, he stands while shifting his sister into a more comfortable position on his back. "How is it that the language without a proper writing system is easier to speak than a peer of Aquilonia?" He grouses, getting a giggle from Daphne, before she looks back at his desk.

"It mayhap be because the good Lord Gallen has spent too long pestering the Barbarous Cimmerian Manwdyn? Everyone knows that barbarous tongues are easier to learn than the refined tastes of Corinth or even Aquilonia." Atia posits while falling into step with him. Only to laugh at his scoff, knowing his thoughts on the so-called superiority of any culture.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they left his room. They went through the storage room that he had taken for his personal quarters. Walking along the balcony that hangs out over the garden, he had no set destination, just enjoying their company. "So, I assume since you are here that means Otho is out causing some form of trouble?" He asks, cutting through the pleasant silence, "And mother wants me to go out and try and find my rambunctious half?"

At his question, Atia only shakes her head. "While your Lordly twin has vanished from his noon lessons, again, the Lady Hypatia has already sent Father out to collect him." She takes a glance at the garden. "She has, though, commanded that you prepare your elixirs in case he injures himself… again."

His eyes found their way back to looking out over the garden again. Sitting on a comfortable acre, the garden would be more accurately described as a personal park for his family and their servants. Aside from The Rock, it is one of the few green places in the city and is viewed with envy by the other noble families.

Surrounding the garden are the grey walls of the estate that had been his home in this life. If he were to describe his home, he would say it reminded him of a Roman Domus. Only stretched to encompass two and a half acres and three stories tall at its highest. Most of the space is taken up by grey stone walls decorated with winding serpent motifs, capped by a terracotta roof. The lower part of the wall takes up half of the Northern wall and the entire Eastern wall. Allowing the morning sun to bathe the garden in light.

The Southern half of the estate is filled with the atrium, mother's study, and other such rooms where she would greet guests. Along with the shops that rent out the front of the estate, much to the slanderous gossip of the noble families. The most striking thing about his home is just how different its architecture is from the surrounding buildings, being more functional and poorer quality than the ancient building.

That alone told him the estate was old. With what little he managed to pry from his governor only adding to the mystery. According to him, the estate is almost as old as Shamar itself. No matter the financial highs or lows that befell his estranged family, they always refused to sell or renovate the estate. From what he remembered from his past life, that was something to be concerned about.

Old families such as his tended to have many secrets that reared their heads especially when it was most inconvenient. It also didn't help that he had found three secret rooms in the attic storage alone. He's fairly certain that they were hidden armories and archives. Judging from the rusted remains of weapons and armor, along with tattered remains of what may have been journals. The thing that disquieted him the most, though, is the fact that the rooms are bigger than they should be.

"Gallen," Daphne starts pulling him from his thoughts of his home as they make their way to the stairs. "Why do you live up here in the attic? Otho says you don't like people," her voice had taken on softness as though she was afraid of the answer. "… Do you not like us?"

Mulling over the answer, he stopped them by a relief carving of a man wrangling two serpents that stood proudly by the end of the balcony. The echo of the servants working, climbing up the stairs. "I don't dislike our family, Daph. I love all of you." He throws Atia a glance, letting her know she is a part of the family. "I just despise having to perform all of the social niceties that are expected of me." At this, he sets her down and faces her, putting both his hands on her shoulders.

"You and Otho can walk into a celebration and immediately understand the groupings and flow of the groups. I walk into said celebration, and I feel like a stranger one misstep away from insulting everyone, and a part of me doesn't really care." At this, he gives her a crooked smirk. "Plus, could you imagine me trying to entertain guests?"

"I'm fairly sure Father was about to fall asleep when you got into the differences between pressing and grinding materials," Atia says, a small grin on her face.

"Well, if Manwydan wasn't interested, he should have found something we both could have enjoyed." He snaps, standing to face her, only to grimace, regretting the outburst. "Atia, I apologize; that was unbecoming."

Atia's smile has taken a sad quirk, as she places a hand on his shoulder. "I know Galen; I know."

Looking at her, he searched for the words for the topic that had been hounding him these past months. The real reason for his troubled mood that made spending time with his family difficult.

"Gal, Ati, look, the snake's head twists!" Daphne's excited voice rings out. Causing both of them to turn in shock. Daphne looks back at them, a proud grin on her face as she twists one of the serpent heads. Before a loud click was heard, and the relief became slightly ajar.

Moving quickly before either could move to investigate, he seals the door. Their eyes are upon him now, and before he could come up with an excuse, Atia had already marched up to him. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and her face scrunched in concentration. "A dislike of social niceties, you say."

He could only shrug as an awkward smile plays across his face. "Well, I never said it was the only reason why I lived up here." Before he could think of anything else, they heard a commotion below the balcony. Looking down, they saw a group of young men and women scaling the lower wall. Their lean forms told of a life on the streets that had just come into the good fortune of a wealthy patron.

Leading this group of ruffians is a familiar young man, his lean form like that of a wolf. His long hair was pulled back, and he laughed, a sound heard even from their height. His fine blue and gold clothes were practically dyed muddy brown.

"Otho!" Gallen calls out, "What in the name of the Gods do you think you're doing!"

Looking up, a roughish grin playing across his face. "Brother! I'm simply returning home after another successful adventure! Come on down and bring Daphne and the Lovely Atia so that I may tell it to you over a glass of Ambrosia!" Even from where he stood, Gallen could still see the bleeding wound on his brother's face.

"You're bleeding like a broken aqueduct, you damnable fool, and you are covered in mud! Mother will have both of our hides if you get any on her rugs." Already he can feel pressure building up behind his eyes. "Just go to my workshop and don't touch anything until I get there!"

With a laugh, Otho jumps down, followed by his gang of barbarous hooligans. Turning back to Atia and Daphne, he tries to make an excuse, only for Atia to cut him off. "Go, Gallen, I will inform the Lady Hypatia that Lord Otho has returned from his excursions." At this, her eyes hardened into ice. "I will not inform her yet about our discovery here, but you and I will be talking about this and any other such rooms you have found. Are we understood, Lord Gallen?"

Nodding his head his gives Daphne a quick pat on the head before running down the steps to stop Otho or his friends from drinking something that would require him to induce vomiting in them… again, the things he does for his family.