Death, And Therefore Rebirth

Theft, And Therefore Crime

  It was anarchy out there.
Thanks to my action, it was our time.

             Five months after Viteu retook Arene, Pymura Feren had died at the age of eighty-three, with little Juren by her side. Her passing was not a peaceful one: it was filled with the agony of her last illness and the pain she had felt for over two decades. Twenty-two years ago, Alan had told her about Irenes death and the truth about what happened to Valea.

          It was as though he had slapped Pymura in the face with the news. She had liked her son-in-law, and she interpreted the murder of two of her daughters (and lying about it) as a doubly vicious betrayal. At the age of sixty-one, the mild widows vision was clouded by red hatred for the first time. Such feelings had appalled Pymura, and she did not know what to do with them; like Viteu, she was not naturally vindictive. She decided to tell Juren the truth, as he would eventually be able to avenge his mother and aunt, and did so on her deathbed. Her final words were:

         You feel betrayed now, but do not confront him yet. Preserve your feelings, let them collect and stew. Then, when you are old and strong enough to take the throne, confront your father with the truth. Watch the colour drain from his face, and see the pain that will inevitably show in those eyes of his. Then, dont even hesitate. You will be representing not just yourself, but all of his victims, living and dead. Make him suffer, drive him mad. Take your time with his death, and make it as slow and torturous as it can be. Make him feel the pain of his victims, and have your hateful eyes be the last thing he sees.

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         That was in 1108. He was strong enough in 1129. At the age of seventeen (he matured almost three times slower than a purebred human,) Juren Maren II already had a reputation as a skilled swordsman. Decades of training, combined with the natural talent of his forefathers and the great Amera, made him a force to be truly reckoned with on the battlefield. With a combination of force and finesse, he dispatched the enemy and, alongside his sister Jurea (1078-1231), led Nureas army to victory after victory. The two jointly bore the mantle of High General, as their father no longer trusted himself with a sword.

         While quiet Juren respected life and had an aptitude for politics as well as for war, Jurea was a violent tactician who seemed to thrive on the deaths of her enemies. Because of the polarising differences between the two, as well as the profound love for Nurea that they shared, the arrangement worked out quite nicely, with Jurens sensitivity balancing out his sisters bellecism and vice versa. Indeed, Juren was quite sensitive, though he tried to conceal this fact in battle to a certain degree of success. Like his ancestor Ifer I, murder was second nature for him, but this was a thing he regretted. It was with a heavy heart that Juren went to his fathers bedroom in order to confront him.

         He did not barge into the room, light brown hair flying as Pymura might have pictured him doing; instead, he looked unsure of himself as he knocked on the door, sword in hand. It was a sword that Ifer had given Juren when he became a High General; as it was the one that hed used to kill Valea, Ifer wanted his son to have it melted. Juren, of course, did not understand why he wanted this, and he did not want to destroy a perfectly good sword, so he used it in battle. Ifer II was very surprised to see the look on his sons face as he opened the door. Why did he look guilty, almost regretful? He knew right from the start that there was something terribly wrong. His wife, Tèrette, sensed an unfriendly aura coming from her stepson, and moved to the back of the room, where she could watch the scene play out, hidden by the shadows.

          An inquisitive woman, her curiosity was aroused. Shed noticed that Ifer was a melancholy man who wept often and had nightmares--this undoubtedly stemmed from guilt about what happened to his old wife--and an affectionate but distant father. He all but neglected her and their sons, preferring Valeas children. Did he even know her name? She doubted it; he often called her Terea instead of Tèretia, as the Nuræans pronounced it. Kind but distant, and very messed up, was Tèrettes opinion of him.  He had given up the military life, instead choosing to engross himself in Nureas other affairs. What was Juren up to? She loved him and his sisters, and knew him better than Ifer did. Still, she could not get inside the boys head. Was he asking Ifer to be more of a father to him and his siblings, as she had done many a time? No, the look on his face shot that theory dead in midair. This was much more serious. Tèrette silently prayed to Vitar, her irheru, for no bloodshed, no death.