Lucias had been Lady Therin's favourite. After nine years spent with an empty nest, at last her fickle womb had produced another boy. And Lady Therin favoured him; as mothers are prone to favour their second born sons. Callistus, her first, belonged to his father and the realm. He was their future and heir. Callistus Therin would be a great man of even greater deeds. But this one, this second son with the sullen face, she could keep as her own.
So, she held him a little longer; and savoured the scent of his boy's hair. Lucias, she nursed from her own breast; Callistus had been wet nursed. She imagined that Lucias had the face and countenance of Lucien; her best-loved brother. Mothers are not supposed to have favourites. But anyone who cared to look, knew. Lucias Therin was his mother's favourite son.
And as mother's are prone, the Lady Therin turned a tactful blind eye to all of her boys' shortcomings; the both of them. She turned a blind eye when Callistus turned the sand red in Hammerfell. And she turned them again when Lucias ground through Bravil like a bull.
—
Lucias had never really known his elder brother. There were nine years stretching between them. By the time Lucias was out of the nursery, Callistus had left to become Squire. Then, when Callistus had achieved manhood, it was Lucias' turn to leave to be squire to Morros Sicarus. Over the years, the brothers had scarcely spent more than a week in one another's company.
It was not a fact that Lucias grieved. For the sparse occasions that Callistus had been home to Nenalata, had not been happy ones. His brother carried a malice about with him; like a spider crouched in a room's corner, or a hangnail jutting from a door frame. Lucias found that he could never be at peace in his elder brother's company. His whims were too fickle; his moods too mercurial to change.
So, he had not been pleased when it was announced that he would accompany Callistus back to Stros M'kai. Mother had been even less so; she had wept so profusely that for a moment Lucias thought his father would actually cave and permit him to stay. But it was not to be. He was Squire to Morros now, and wherever he went; Lucias must go too.
Lucias was glad that Morros was there. He had the loudest laugh of any man he'd ever known. His verve was so contagious that it even provoked Callistus to crack a smile on occasion. Morros was only five years older than Lucias himself. Callistus stood slightly older at two and twenty. Together, they made a band of very young men; with Lucias not having yet even earned the mantle. He was still boy.
And, as a band of young, unattended men are prone; the bad behaviour had commenced as soon as they had docked in Stros M'kai. The port town was a cesspit. With many dark, winding alleys that a young man might slip down and find himself forever lost. Lucias had expected the local Redguards to loathe their coming; but the city welcomed them with arms open. Amidst the port and the sailors, the soldiers brought septims to spend. And such delights could be bought upon the streets of Stros M'kai. Strange fruits and fine wines; silks exquisite enough to swathe the Goddess Dibella. And, after dark, a different sort of trade would be bartered; that of moon sugar and flesh.
The taverns of Stros M'kai brimmed with bare-titted brown women. Upon their very first night in the city, Callistus had resolved to get the young Lucias rip roaring drunk. He had plied the lad with liquor; ale, mead and rum.
"Drink brother. Drink!" Callistus had laughed into his ear, clapping him roughly upon his back.
The tavern was brim with bodies and their odour. The rum burnt Lucias' thirteen-year-old throat and warmed his belly. But he was happy. Effervescently happy. He was propped against the bar, with his elder brother hanging off his shoulder. For once in his miserly life, Callistus actually seemed to be happy too. The voice of Morros was coming from the table behind him; bawdy and loud. He was holding court and spinning tall tales. The night air was warm in Stros M'kai and all of the voices about Lucias Therin were merry.
