Though I had often thought those days, in my naive biased, that those years would be the torturous climax of my life. But Through these maturing hours at war, i often now look back at those days in a remainiscence of my oxymoronical innocence.
I was born into the society of the Virtute, the valor, and was raised, trained, maybe even indoctrinated to obey the Codec Occulotus. To never act, passively or openly, in a way that disturbs balance.
I lost my vision when i was 15. They stripped me from the path of Bellator, the warrior, to be trained in the the path of Perfucator, the assassin. They told me that vision would be my greatest deception. Maestro Irving, my teacher, said that vision tricks your mind with emotion that is un needed. Though no in an aged retrospective thought, it is so I do not remember a face that is no more, and cannot carry the guilt for its end. My vision lost was replaced with a second. A more mystical one that is better explained another day.
Our society was bent on the theory that the world must stay perfectley balanced. Not in war, but in spirit, an unseen force that must stay level, and can only remain its posture if a more seen force had been tipped.
But when you are 17, you care less for these words better suited to a philospher. Instead we focused on our studies and training. Every bruise on our bodies, a mistake that would never be repeated. Every cut healed to a scar so we may be reminded of a failure. And of all the other boys who's skin showed the dark patch of bludgeon, and that thin stinging red line from a blade, mine was the most dramatic in that flaw.
Aside from the tear like scars on our eyes that all Perfucators had apon their eyes, my chest looked like a butcher's failed cut of meat. Lashings on my back from whip training, small stab wounds from the 3 months of dagger training. Scrapes on my elbows from mountain climbs, blisters on my feet from hiking, burns on my hands from bomb making.
You can understand why it was to my own surprise that High Magister Daedelus gave me a privelage that no other boy in my class had bestowed. The pilgrimage, to travel across this massive continent to our temple in the high mountains.
The excitement was unbearable, and I of course in my overzealous mindset, set off the next day.
You may ask who I am...
I am Octullus Astartes.
And like any man who's heart does beat, i carry a regret. That i have never said goodbye to my only friends.
