Cupio

Prologue: 1481

A certain bliss is found when the world caves in; everything previously understood seems worn next to the stout reality of disease and death. The year is 1481, the year of our Lord. Cupio, a young man of 13 years, sits in the heart of his peasant neighborhood in outer London near the wall. An illness that has been overlooked for nearly a century takes the life of his mother. By this point, those of greater wealth and status dismissed the Black Death as all but over. But for Cupio, he may as well have been living in the height of it all. His father, who he never knew, was long dead, and in a world where everyone was whispering about rebirth, Cupio, was only able to be a mere spectator as the Grim Reaper came to harvest the only love he ever knew. The boy was so deeply broken that he could not even mourn his mother. His only motivation, the only reason he had to carry on living, was to avoid suffering his fate in the condition he had grown so accustomed to seeing his mother in all those years. This was a pivotal time in the realm; after the effects of the Hundred Years' War and the Black Death, the population was decimated, and the winds of change were blowing strong. Out in the noble countryside, some peasants who once submissively accepted their role as property to the nobility began to demand better recompense. All the death of late meant many vacant places needed to be worked, which led to a shortage of workers, fueling a fair bit of rebellion in the realm. It is no surprise that people were quick to use this newfound leverage. Some of these so-called "songs of the little people" were heard and heeded to avoid trouble and starvation. Many of the workers were farmers and others who supplied food to the realm, so a strike could be costly for some nobility. Other noblemen were none too concerned with starvation and saw power as true sustenance. It is well known among nobles that killing those who bring you fortune is a counterproductive act, but when those same providers of fortune—the serfs and officials in his fields—threatened Lord Teyrn, he swiftly made an exception. It is said that after a brutal display of power, the heads of everyone who dared demand a single thing from the cruel lord were displayed at the corners of every field, set there as a warning and a promise. Written under every severed head, barely legible through the stains of blood, were the words "know thyself." While this act did get the point across and gagged any song of rebellion in the house of Teyrn, it destabilized the possibility of a swift harvest. Unfortunately for the nobleman, the leaves quickly changed into their autumn colors. When it came time to ask who would till these newly unlooked-over sections of land, Teyrn gathered his remaining loyal officials and ruled to send two of his knights out to resolve the issue. Lord Teyrn, with a voice as soothing as a small rock in the eye said "Go at once into the homes of the peasants in the outer city; find me those who will not bite the hand that feeds them. These worms know that once the barbarians get through the wall, they will be the first to have their wives sullied and sent back to the dirt from whence they came. Onward! You apes, winter will not wait for your weak comprehension!" And as soon as the command was given, they were off.

Back in London, Cupio, now weeks removed from his mother's passing, has begun doing all the things you would expect from a little orphaned street urchin: pickpocketing, scuffling with the other boys, and the like. But one thing that set him apart was his sociopathic mindset of survival. He figured that if he had not died yet, his will simply would not allow him to. After all, he was with his mother while she had the plague, and it did not affect him at all. In truth, he was simply born with the blessing—or the curse—of immunity to the horrid sickness. This allowed him to go into the old mass graves and pluck the shiny accessories of the decayed wealthy men and women who had died in the streets over the years. Cupio knew that what he was doing was abnormal but simply justified it by reciting a phrase taught to him by his late mother: "Mortem aequatore," which states that death is the only true equalizer.

One cloudy London night, as Cupio went to one of the body piles, he saw a mesmerizing jade necklace; its deep green reflection of the moonlight was impossible to miss. This particular body was right at the top. Usually, he would have to do a bit of digging to find anything good, so this was quite the stroke of luck. He walked over, literally stepping on heads to reach the middle of the pile, and as he reached down to grab the shiny little stone, the clouds in the sky dissipated to reveal his mother's face. It was only now, as he stood on a pile of bodies in the light of the moon, ready to steal from the corpse of his late mother, that he wept. His heart was broken, seeing what life had become for him in such a short amount of time. His mother's face was a little glimpse of the past when he was not so deeply alone—when not only did he have someone, but someone had him. His cry was loud; it almost sounded like a wild animal. This piqued the interest of a hunter nearby, who came swiftly to see if he had found a new creature with such an unfamiliar sound. When he saw Cupio in the distance, he was mortified. "Demon! Demon! Spawn of the devil, why have you come to our city?" he shouted. Cupio, so paralyzed with despair, gave no answer and continued to cry. "No matter; I am divinely able; I will deal with you myself," he muttered, drawing his bow and aiming for Cupio's heart. Just before he released the arrow, he heard, "HEY, STAND DOWN, MAN!" Due to the interruption, his arrow flew wide left, missing Cupio's head and going straight into the leg of one of the knights' horses, knocking the well-armored man to the ground. The darkness made it difficult to decipher what he had just hit, but when he heard the sound of a healthy horse and armor hitting the ground, he knew he had made a grave mistake. The two knights got off their respective horses and faced the hunter. As they approached, the ominous black dragon crest made it known to the weary hunter that these knights were from House Teyrn.