The Redwynes of Fulcestershire
The Redwyne family has ruled over Fulcestershire (pronounced full-stər-shər) for twelve generations. The first generations struggled to maintain their sovereignty during the age of strife, when lords and princes tried to consolidate as much land as possible. The Red Keep was completed in three generations and proved instrumental in repelling invasions.
Eventually, during the age of peace, swords were turned into ploughshares and Fulcestershire turned to agriculture. The rich soil and ingenuity of the farmers quickly turned Fulcestershire into one of the most important lordships in the kingdom. The Red Keep was renamed Redgarden Keep in honour of the new dedication. Its fruits, vegetables and grains fed much of the kingdom. Its spirits, beers and especially the wines were without equal.
Fulcester, before a small farming village in the shadow of Redgarden Keep, turned into a trading city of nearly twenty thousand within several generations. The Redwynes prospered, both financially and politically. Traders came to barter their wares, lords came to seek the lord’s council to maximise the yield of their own crops and the royal family drank the Fulcester wines exclusively.
Despite its new dedication Redgarden Keep never forgot the age of strife and prided itself on its martial acumen. The footmen and archers were well-trained and oft-drilled, and its knights were valorous, honourable and competitive in tourneys. On several occasions Redgarden Keep lent its troops in protection of friendly lordships and when the crown called its banners.
Only one blemish was ever recorded on our family’s history. Five generations ago, my great-great-great-grandfather’s younger brother was Lord Ulster Redwyne, whose manhunt across the kingdom brought great shame to the Redwyne name as he was unwilling to submit to the Circle of Magi and chose to practice his magic as a renegade. He was eventually found and killed by agents of the Circle.
The Disappointment of Lord Halberstam Redwyne
I told you that story in order to tell you this story.
My father is Lord Halberstam Redwyne, Twelfth Lord of Fulcestershire. His banner is a golden cornucopia upon a burgundy field. He became lord at the age of twenty-eight after his father, Lord Marcus, the Eleventh Lord of Fulcestershire, died. He had learned much in the ways of farming, trading and politics, was a decent swordsman and had married well. His brother and sister had been wed into important families and relations were warm.
It was truly my lord father’s first big defeat when no children were born for several years. Stillborns and miscarriages plagued my lady mother and it put a severe strain on the marriage. When I was finally born a collective sigh of relief could be heard from Fulcester to Highgarden.
It could be argued that my lady mother was overprotective in her care for me. When I was struck by the bloody flux at the age of four, many a priest thought I’d perish before my fifth name day. Bedridden for months I came close to dying several times, but eventually due to the diligence of my lady mother and the persistence of my lord father, I survived.
Unfortunately, the disease shattered my digestive system and left me weaker than most boys my age. Often bedridden and surrounded by priests, I quickly turned to the books in my lord father’s library to entertain myself. I was a quick study and that which I lacked physically, I made up intellectually.
My lord father was never good at hiding his frustration, and doubly so when it concerned his son and heir. If I were to inherit his lands, titles and properties, I had to be capable of wielding a sword as well as read books. To him I would only be half a man unless I was able to wield a weapon. With the same persistence he had shown when I fell ill, he decided to school me in all manner of warcraft.
The courtyard of Redgarden Keep became the scene of many frustrating afternoons where I disappointed my lord father with my inability to hold a sword. Hard practices led to longer recoveries as my body would fail me. His steward once warned him that if he pushed me any harder it would break me for good and that perhaps sharpening my mind rather than strengthening my swordarm would yield more success.
A miracle struck Fulcestershire once more when my lady mother found herself with child again. My lord father prayed for another son. When Danan was born my lord father announced I would join the holy order of Chauntea. If I wouldn’t be a warrior, I’d honour my family in the service of the Earth Mother. It was not a coincidence that my service to the Earth Mother would also mean a rejection of my hereditary claims. It felt like exile.
I was sent to live at the temple in Fulcester in order to start my studies and participate in my first communion. A few months later I was sent to the capitol to study at the Hightemple. It didn’t take long before it became apparent that my interest in the temple’s library was stronger than my interest in the temple’s goddess. I managed to hide it a while, masking my reading as pious contemplation and study, but eventually I was sent to return home.
The Discovery of Magic
I tried to stay out of my lord father’s way by locking myself in his library, only occassionally coming out and going on field trips to verify certain things I had learned in his books. Within a year, I had read most of the legible books. There was a small collection of books written in a curious script that nobody seemed to know how to read. On the inside of their thick leather covers was written the name “Ulster Redwyne.”
Fielding the studies necessary to decypher the text kept me busy for more than a year. My first experiments came a year after. To my surprise and excitement, I found success at magecraft.
At this point, both my parents had focussed their attention on Danan. He was already better with a practice sword than I had ever been. My lord father’s constant disapproval of me never far from my younger brother’s ear, he stopped looking up to me and started looking down. My lady mother had closed her eyes to the matter and pretended everything was fine. I felt like a stranger among my own family.
When I approached my lord father and informed him of my gift, hoping to finally please him, he shouted at me. Magecraft had brought disgrace upon our family all those generations ago and another Redwyne taking it up would surely spell doom. My lord father’s steward suggested I apply to the Circle of Magi, that I could be a valuable asset to the family. The influence of the Circle was great and if I would do well, I’d lend that influence to our family in court. My lord father dismissed the potential benefit as not worth the cost in shame and disgrace.
I was surprised when my lady mother became involved, lending her support to the steward’s suggestion. My lord father’s fury was complete. The following day, my lady mother announced I should apply to the Circle. There was a glimmer in her eye that I found encouraging. My lord father’s only stipulation was that I forego the use of the Redwyne name and denounce my hereditary claims to the title of Lord of Fulcestershire. I did it gladly.
The Ascension at the Tower
My acceptance as an apprentice at the Tower of High Sorcery was not without some debate. I had already engaged in magecraft while the laws of the king forbade such things. The high wizards had long since divined my real name and questioned my deception, especially in light of my descendance from Ulster the Black, as he was called by the Circle. Explanations were offered and my lady mother made a healthy donation to the Circle using gold from her dowry. This bought my education and the Circle’s discretion about my identity. I started my study known just as Ethan of Fulcester and that suited me fine.
My progression was quick and I became the subject of much debate among the high wizards. While all applauded my aptitude some feared that the trajectory of my ascent was too steep. They argued that the knowledge I was quickly attaining, and the power that would accompany it, needed to be tempered by wisdom that could only come with age. Access to certain libraries was revoked, even though I had proven myself capable.
Progress had slowed to a tedium and I felt other apprentices catch up. I started rereading certain curricula, making sure I had not missed anything, and I began experimenting with formulae, expanding upon working theories, without the aid of the libraries that had been denied to me. My benefactors applauded me, the detractors claimed I was hungry for power.
A rumour started spreading among fellow apprentices that I was the reincarnation of Ulster the Black, set to destroy the Tower once I was done usurping all knowledge in their libraries. I denied all relations, maintained my adopted identity and tried to reassure the detractors among the high wizards, the only logical source of the rumours. I gave up around the same time I managed to form a special bond with a raven I called Blackwing.
To escape the accussations, I’d often go to the highest balcony of the Tower to read. It held the rookery of ravens used to send messages to the mundane agencies in the employ of the Circle. The wizard that cared for it, a grizzled, veteran conjurer, took a liking to me and helped me summon my first familiar.
Blackwing was magnificent and large, with feathers as black as midnight. Wherever I went the raven was not far behind. I taught him a few words at first, later whole sentences. I admit, Blackwing may not have done my reputation at the Tower any favours, but I didn’t care because I had a plan.
Well over a year ahead of schedule, I managed to get the endorsements from the high wizards that I needed in order for me to take the final test. Aware that some of the high wizards that endorsed me didn’t think I’d make it out alive, it left me unperturbed. The final test had claimed the lives of many aspirants, which is why most took the test late rather than early, but I knew I had prepared well.
I will admit this to you but to no other; at the time, I felt like I had little to lose. I had no family, no friends and the guardianship I had expected from the Circle had left wanting. My desire was to leave. Not to be sent away like I was sent from my home and the hightemple, but to leave a mage.
I wanted to be free to pursue my research without being suffocated by the Circle. My time at the Tower had been wonderous, it had given me direction. A few at the Circle I still hold in high esteem, but the rest were arrogant bureaucrats with delusions of importance who had taken a lifetime to do what I achieved in a decade. I found that politics ruled the Circle just like it had ruled my family.
I admit that my final test nearly ended me. While designed to test an aspirant’s entire spectrum of knowledge and capabilities, curiously, my test had mostly prayed on my obvious physical shortcomings. It took months for me to recover. Whispers of Ulster the Black followed me until the day I departed. None of the usual celebrations were offered, just the congratulations of those who had supported me.
The Rest of My Life
And now I am a traveling scholar in search of knowledge, going where the ancient tomes and legends tell me to go. I am beholden to no man and live by the written rules of the laws and of magic, not the unwritten rules of courtesies and etiquette. I seek truth, not favour. I regard people on their merits, not their standing.
I occasionally write my family, and sometimes I even receive a response. My lady mother tells me she is well and that my lord father is too. My brother has written and I’m happy to hear he’s taken to the best of both our parents. I never expected us to get along but we do. I promised that one day soon I would visit.
I seek others mages and exchange knowledge. The oldest magic is the strongest magic, so I listen to rumours of abandoned settlements and inspect their ruins, sifting through the detritus, decyphering old texts and interpreting rotting tapestries. I look for clues of hidden caches of knowledge, forgotten books and buried information.
I’m convinced that the well-trodden path leads to mediocrity. Modern mages focus on the same spells because they lack ambition and imagination. Because they use their gift for coin rather than knowledge. The mages that made a lasting contribution to the collective knowledge we possess were not counting coins or covetting a place at court.
When my coin runs low, I take work as a scribe. When I need to travel, I find a merchant to guard. When I find an inn for the night, I barter a bed and a meal for some simple entertainment. The more north I travel, the more rare my gift becomes and the more people will pay for my employ.
Getting further away from the nest of vipers that is my homeland I find myself happier. Life is simpler, people are simpler, their tongues are simpler, their worries and wants are simpler. With that simplicity comes a clarity of purpose that I never want to relinquish again.
