There was so much that he regretted and so much that he wished he could take back. To have back with him his honor, his wealth….his name. That hurt more than anything else, that he lost his name his identity. What made him, him and not just some nameless drone among the countless hordes that frequented the cities.
Vitus. The name itself pulled forth such a sour taste in his mouth that he often felt he had to choke back the bile in order to just be able to breathe. Such was his disgust and self-loathing, which he often could not even muster the energy to do much else but drink. Though it was the cause of his current situation he still could not stop himself. Could not stop the satisfaction the got when the liquid would burn on the way down his throat, the sensation of warmth as it spread through all of his body, nor the way his mind would cloud over and it would all be better. Why would he stop that? Stop the one thing in the world that granted him a measure of peace and quiet. Stopping the voices and the looks of accusation that he could still remember vividly from his past; the drink was all that helped these days.
”You know you are destined for greatness, don’t you son?” they stood before a mirror together, he and his father. A young boy off to his first day at Schola Bellicus, a proud father who felt the need to primp and prime his son to ensure he looked his absolute best. He had lost count of the amount of times; “lint” was plucked from his otherwise spotless attire. “It was foretold in the stars, on the night you were born. That you would do great things and would carry our family’s name out into the stars for future generations to come,” there was always such a measure of confidence and hope in his voice that Maximus found himself hesitant to express his own concerns.
Years later and he was in the academy. Progressing amazingly well, but that did not seem to be enough for his father.
“Why did you not score a perfect on the exam?”
Already from his tone, Maximus dreaded the coming conversation and merely stood at attention while his father ranted and raved at him. The papers that held his scores were torn and thrown into his face before he stormed off and left Maximus to stand there in the silence that followed.
Another gap in time and he has graduated, made a name for himself and is on the fast track for greatness, but it never seems to be enough for his father. There was always more that he could do, greater that he could be. No matter how hard he tried or did, it was never enough and the more that became apparent the more he drank. The more he drank the more risks he took, the more risks he took the further from grace he fell until finally.
The booted footfalls of his father echoed in the empty courtroom, the familiar gait alerting him to the man’s presence without the need to raise his head from its current position. Already he could feel the hate and anger as it boiled within the man he called father, the man he idolized and feared all in the same breath. When at last he stood before him, Maximus still kept his gaze cast down to the marbled floor at his feet.
“Listen boy and listen well, for this will be last that you ever hear from me again,” he creak of leather was heard as his father twisted the leather gloves he knew he held between his hands. “I have paid your fine, I have used my word and honor to spare you a life time in jail, but you will be punished for your actions,” a pause and the leather creaked again. “Know this, you are no longer my son and shall no longer hold a title worth note. You are stricken from the family records, from the records in the city and shall hence forth be known only as Vitus. You are a criminal and a dishonored man, this is what you will be until such a time as you die or can manage to somehow regain your honor. Though I highly doubt that given how far you fell from the realm of mediocrity. But, who knows, you might end up lucky and then I will be able to speak with you again. Do you understand all of this?”
All Vitus did was nod.
“Good.” And that was it that was the end of that. His father walked out and he never saw him again.
Vitus was branded for his crimes a brilliant scarlet mark there on his eye for all to see the shame and disgrace, left to make his way in the world as an undesirable, half a man, broken and all but forgotten.
“Vitus!” the curt voice of his task master broke through his stupor. “Get your lazy ass up! Time to get back to work!”
A grunt left his lips as he staggered to his feet, the old and barley functional helmet was picked up and placed on his head before he entered the coal mines. Such menial and degrading jobs were all that he could get these days. People did not trust him enough to give him anything truly worth mentioning, but he was strong and could push a cart, so that was all that mattered to them. He worked for basically nothing and perhaps a single meal a day. Just enough to get by, just enough to make it in a world for one who had fallen so far from grace.
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