"Before the rising of the tides, the world of Lumen had been whole, five large continents all within the same sea. Though, it was not a perfect world, still filled with strife as it continues to be today. What we know now as 'Luminants', were simply parts of this larger continent, The Old World, the heart of Lumen."
— Studies of Lumen, Vol I
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Brian Zeneki gathered the last of his essential belongings, some spare flint, bread to last a week, and a healing salve along with some bandages, into his travel pack. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to use the salve, it had cost him 45 notes for just one. God's Above, how could the apothecary charge such a price?!
Brian stood up straight, stretching his body, he had been packing for around 30 minutes now, and before that had been deliberating on what to pack. He couldn't take everything after all, and the Vigils would guarantee the rest of his things would be kept safe, so why worry? The Vigils, while much too stuffy for Brian's taste, always kept their word.
Brian's gaze wandered to his Etrean katana, his pride and joy. He had never seen a katana before coming to the Isle of Vigils. From what he learned in his history lectures — which he rarely paid attention to — was that the Etrean katana was the symbol of Etrean dominance in the Eastern Luminant, back during the days of the Etrean Empire. Over the years, It had fallen from favor due to its cost, but the Vigil Order still held to the tradition.
He reached out, running his gloved hands over the hilt. The tips of his fingers scraped slightly against the leather. While the chitinous growths that covered his skin did protect him, it also made him different from others. His Vesperian mask, a smooth, polished shell that covered his face entirely, felt odd today. He ran his hand along it, in an attempt to fix whatever was wrong. Brian, despite what others thought, was proud of his heritage. The Vesperian people, while rare and thought of as suspicious, were all proud, nice people. He had the pleasure of meeting several from his own race, and they all welcomed him with open arms.
Even here, among the Vigils, his mask cast suspicion on him. The other Initiates, and even full-fledged Vigils themselves, whispered things they thought he wouldn't hear. Beetle. Bug. Worm. Brian didn't care, if anything, he was proud. The mask was him; his very soul. He liked how unique it made him, and honestly, it was useful as he never had to clean or wash his face in the morning.
Besides, all Etreans were like that. It wasn't Brian, it was just how they were. Etreans almost instinctively excluded other races. It was confusing to Brian, though, the Etreans had their own set of unique features to them, particularly their scale-like skin and snake-like eyes, so why exclude others for their own features? Brian didn't mind the Etreans though, he thought they looked cool.
Sheathing his blade in its scabbard, Brian turned and opened the door to his quarters. Before stepping out, he turned and took one last look at them. His quarters were the standard living quarters assigned to every Vigil Initiate in training, the quarters were bare bones and entirely designed for practicality. But they had grown special to Brian, it was certainly better than his crumbling old rented house back in Etris. Yet, something didn't feel right to Brian. The room had never felt like home, always just a temporary space. That didn't stop Brian from angering the cleaning maids, of course, with his.. how'd they put it? "Carefree living standards"
He stepped out, closing the door behind him and stepping out into the rugged, but pristine, halls of the Vigil Order's housing buildings. He had trained five long years under Vigil's, he pushed and pulled through some of the hardest trials he had ever faced, all to forge him and the others into Etrea's finest soldiers — well not soldiers, "guardians", as they put it. Just two days ago, the Order had finally given him the offer, entrance into the Order of Vigils.
But he declined.
That was the problem with the Order, they were too stuffy, too rigid, too... honorable!
The words of one of his instructors echoed in his heads, Instructor Aratros, an Etrean man who was quite literally Master Vicar from those old Etrean plays in the flesh. "You lack discipline boy, a Vigil's blade must only be drawn when necessary to protect, not for sport, and certainly not for your own amusement." Vic- Aratros had said to him.
Brian had just grinned at the time, he never liked Aratros anyway, and he didn't fight for others opinions. The Vigil Order was all about order and restraint. Brian had none of those things, well, not in the way they wanted. He liked to fight, he wanted to test himself, he welcomed — no, he sought out danger. After all, what was the point of mastering a blade if you only drew it when you were told to?
And then came Aiden, Brian's full-toothed grin slipped a little. His friend had been expelled years back from the Vigil Initiate's, branded as too willing to kill and much too unstable. Aratros himself cast the judgment, despite the old man's gruff and stern attitude — he held much sway within the Order. Almost as much sway as the Maestro of Winds himself, though Brian had never met the famed leader of the Vigil Order, he had heard of him from.. well.. Everyone! It was impossible to go a day in the Isle of Vigils, or even Etris, without hearing of Evengarde Rest, The Maestro of Winds. Brian couldn't completely defend his friend though, Aiden had broken that poor Initiates arm in a duel, but to expel him over it? That was too far.
That was the problem with the Order, they wanted warriors — but without teeth.
Brian continued walking, exiting the pristine halls of the housing area, the cool air hitting him immediately. It was supposed to be a sunny day, but the clouds obscured the sun, creating a cool and murky atmosphere. While walking, Brian saw the usual sights. Duels between Initiates, Instructors teaching, and the calm movements of the townspeople.
While the Isle of Vigils was home to the Vigil Order, the Isle housed a surprisingly active and vibrant community of locals. They complimented each other quite well, it was surprisingly common to see Initiates head down towards the town after a grueling day of training for some food and a cold drink. Brian himself had done the same plenty of times.
Walking past the city, he entered the familiar docks, it felt like just yesterday he had been getting off the ship and into his new life here. The docks were nothing special, but meticulously maintained. Docksmen scrambled about moving and loading crates, mending sails, and tethering ships.
Brian surveyed the docks, and found the Red Thorn, the ship whose captain he had paid a week prior to take him to Erisia. The ship was a medium-sized merchant schooner, the boat had no weapons except two cannons with low ammunition, but pirates weren't a real threat out here. With Erisia drifting in, the Etrean Navy had increased its patrols. Besides, most pirates operated in the Aratel Sea where the Etrean Navy presence was weaker, and more riches were to be found in the lesser explored Islands like the Aratel Island.
Brian stepped further into the docks, before stopping. He took one last big breath of air — taking it all in. He didn't like to admit it, but he would miss this place. It hadn't felt like home, but it was still a comforting place. He had grown attached.
"So, you're really leaving?"
The voice came from behind, calm and controlled. Brian whirled around, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his katana, ready to draw. He didn't draw his blade, but he was ready if he needed too. A proper Vigil is never caught off-guard, or so the Vigil's drilled into him and the other initiates daily.
But somehow, Instructor Calan had managed it.
The Etrean man stood with his hands behind his back, his posture straight and measured as always. His long silver hair was tied back into a simple knot, and his youthful face and shimmering amber eyes betrayed his serious posture. Calan looked young, almost a 16, but Brian had learned that the Etrean polished scale like skin often made Etreans look way younger than they really were. Calan wore his usual Cloak of Winds of the Vigils. Once you were promoted from Vigil Initiate into the Order proper, you were bestowed the Cloak of Winds, the legendary garments of the Vigil Order. Brian remembered hearing the kids in Etris swoon over it, he did too, though he had become used to seeing it here.
"Gods Above Calan," Brian said, exhaling a warm breath and letting go of his katana's hilt, "You always do this, aren't you getting a little too old for surprises?"
Calan smirked, and raised an eyebrow, "Careful, that's no way to speak to one of your masters. I could have you strung up and lashed.",
"You wouldn't" Brian dared, smirking, though his mask covered it. He liked Calan, out of all the Vigil Instructor's he was the youngest and the most friendly, all the others had this air of superiority around them. As if you were beneath them, Brian didn't blame them, after all, he probably was beneath them. Was. Now he was sure he could at least give them a bit of trouble.
"So you're really leaving." Calan repeated, this time a little more seriously. His smirk faded just a little, and he looked lost in thought.
Brian shrugged, glancing at the Red Thorn, "Yeah well.. It was fun training, but I'm not meant to be a Vigil, Calan. I'm not exactly known for my restraint and honor."
Calan took a step forward, his smirk now gone. "And you're certain about this?" He said seriously.
Brian continued to grin, he had never seen Calan so serious, but Brian wasn't intimidated easily, "Since when have I ever been uncertain?" he replied, undaunted.
Brian's words hung in the air, heavy and resolute. For a moment, neither spoke, the sounds of the dock fading into the background. Calan exhaled, his breath visible against the chill air of the day. Then he nodded, "I suppose you're right, I've never seen you hesitate, not once." Calan said, a smile forming.
Brian turned back towards the Red Thorn, walking away, before Calan called out to him.
"There's a storm coming, Brian," he added, quietly, almost dreadfully. "And we'll need every man we can get."
"Well," Brian said, "Good thing I don't mind a little rain."