Chapter 2: Sarthak Uchiha Origin story
The boy watched his father weep. The sky was dark that day, with no moons to brighten it. The stars were clouded by smoke from the great hearth. A cold day. A bad day, the boy decided. He could not find his mother. She had simply left. Without a word. Without a trace. The boy thought he understood what that meant. He thought he was smarter than he actually was. But soon, he realized he was just a boy. And now, he was a motherless boy.
So, he too, wept.
…
We made our way outside without much conversation. What conversation would we have? She doesn't know me, and I don't know her. What were you expecting?
For her to like me.
And why would she?
Why would anybody like you?
"Bael? Are you okay m'lord?" she asked. Her voice was sweet and comforting. It almost made me disregard my earlier thoughts.
"Yes. I'm fine. You know, I never asked, but what is your name?"
"Falliar m'lord."
I grimaced at that honorific as we exited the house and made our way to the outside patio. There, under white canvas and shimmering glow jewel lights, the dinner was held. The whole town was invited. Throngs of people gathered at long tables to eat courses and converse politicks. I scratched my head at the site, wondering where my place at the table would be now. Am I higher? Do I sit with Father and Sharil? Do I spite him and sit with Scio? Do I spite all of them and sit with Kallin?
Falliar made the choice for me. Before I knew it, we were taking our seats at the second head table, with Father. He gave me one appraising look before going back to his conversation with the Town Elder. Those two have been close lately.
In front of us, dinner lay. It was a simple but hearty meal, one that would appease both common folk and elites alike. Gracian Broth and Red Bread. It smelled spicy and it tasted like Mother's old cooking. That kept me in good spirits, despite all the disparaging looks that were sent my way on the table. Father was determined to ignore me. He was always like that, ever since birth. I looked the most like him, out of my siblings. That gave him shame. His deep yellow eyes, to others, inspired hate and cold intelligence. Mine just inspired aloof ignorance. His short black hair was clean cut and mine was long with little twisting locks. He wore blue. I wore red. He did whatever he could to differentiate himself from me. Distance himself from me.
"So…Who sent you Falliar?" I asked after biting into some bread.
"Sent me, m'lord?
"Yes. And, may I request that you stop calling me that? You may just call me by my name."
"Yes m' — I mean, yes Bael. To answer your concern, no one sent you— I am not here to trick you," she said, taking a moment to sip her soup. I scanned her at that moment, trying to discern whether she was lying to me or not. She looked composed. Regal. I decided that perhaps, I could relax. Perhaps this woman was a… friend. Or soon to be one. I didn't really care, at that point, if my relationships were built on superficial grounds (i.e my position of power). I just wanted some relationships. So, I told myself that she didn't lie.
"Okay then. So, why escort me?"
"You seemed interesting."
I raised an eyebrow. "How am I interesting?"
"You study history, right?"
"I do my best."
"Have you ever studied the Isho Age?"
I stopped mid bite of broth covered bread, setting it down and wiping my face.
"I have a fairly decent understanding of that one."
"Then, if I may ask the titular question, why did Ikran lose the Eternity War?" she asked. I chuckled and she gave me a small smile. She's knowledgeable. I observed, straightening my red overcoat a bit. That question was a joke amongst scholars, for it was something that each scholar seemed to have a different theory about and all their theories were wildly different.
"Theoretically, Ikran had every single advantage that he could ever ask for. The Immortal Legion at his command, the treatise with the Beasts of Carnum and direct control over The Pit."
"And yet he still lost to Horna."
"Ah. Now that's the question. Did he lose to Horna?"
"I beg your pardon, but I don't think I understand. It's common knowledge that Horna Ulain defeated Ikran," she said, perplexed. I gave her a smile and wagged my thumb.
"Contrary to popular belief, Ikran defeated himself."
She scoffed. "And who thought of that theory?"
"Well, historical records show a drop in Pit mining in the following weeks leading up to the final battle. It is also believed that a new variant of Ulghouls started pervading the mining sections around that time. Only a few people have made the connection, but it is believed that the low mining rates were caused by massacres."
"So what? The mining rates drop down a bit. He still had the immortal legion and the treatise with Carnum," she argued. I shook my head.
"Carnum depended on those jewel stores for the mutual defense treatise. Since Ikran's rates dropped, Carnum didn't send him any munitions during the final battle. As for his immortal legion, they were starved and far too tired to put up a good fight against Horna. So, they lost."
"Hmm. I don't think I agree, but it's not a bad theory."
"I'm still working out some of the finer details—"
"Ah, brother, what a wonderful surprise!" A voice called. I stiffened, stifling my conversation and turning to see my second sister walking over. She was the most social out of my siblings. Always dressed up. Always at some event.
Always vile.
"Aya. What are you doing here?'
"Is that any way to greet your sister?" she asked, plopping down on the seat next to Falliar. My sister wore a white skirt with a loud, pink dress shirt. Her green eyes bore into Falliar, who seemed frazzled after seeing her. "She's a pretty one," Aya remarked.
"What do you want Aya?"
"Something interesting to gawk at. This girl will do," she said, suddenly grabbing and cupping Falliar's cheek with one hand. I winced but didn't do anything, just watching as my sister squished Falliar's face inwards. Eventually, Falliar just slapped her hand away. My sister withdrew, leaning back on her chain and resting her feet upon the table.
"Aya, sometimes I wonder, what in Malaketh's name is wrong with you?" I asked, clutching my hand in a white-knuckled grasp. She shrugged.
"A great many things. However, oh Pure One…"
"Falliar."
"Purest Falliar. Why do you degrade yourself by sitting with this vermin? You should meet my older brother. I'm sure he'd be a much better match for you."
I clicked my tongue, annoyed at the remark, but knowing that whatever happened next, I had no control. My brother, Axel, was firstborn. A natural born leader. Handsome, blue-eyed, blonde-blonde hair, strong body, natural charisma, the whole Malaketh-gifted package. The perfect son. I rarely saw him. He was usually off doing something important. However, I figured that night of all nights, he'd be there.
And now he'll take her too.
It was something that my nightmares had guessed. I figured, if I ever found love, or some girl who was actually interested in me, then my father or Axel would somehow find a way to steal her. It was a weird, petty little nightmare that cursed me. Yet, it's happening now. Of all times. I gazed down, preparing for the inevitable.
"I'm sure your brother is a very kind man. However, right now, I'm fine with Bael's company."
Well, would you look at that?
I glanced up in astonishment, but I did well to keep my features blank. Aya did not. She went through a whole range of emotions. Perplexity. Anger. Fury. Then, eerie calm. She slashed us with her smile, kicking off the table and sliding her chair backward. Without another word, she left.
"As you were saying, Bael? I am still curious about this theory of yours," she said, turning to me with a little blush in her cheeks. I relaxed and leaned back, smiling.
Tonight is a good night indeed.
…
After conversing with Falliar for a while, which didn't really feel all that long in retrospect, my Father abruptly stood and wrapped his knuckles against his co-Patriach brace. A ring of sonic sound echoed throughout the village—not overly loud but definitely loud enough to stifle all conversation. I paused my explanation of the end of Isho, focusing on Father. He didn't bat an eye in my direction, instead looking towards the crowd, scanning them.
"I thank all of you for gathering here tonight. The past few days have been hard, but by Malaketh's grace, we have survived and moved past the death of our dearly departed Patriarch. This is thanks to the efforts of my brother, Scio, who did well to secure our holds on border territory against bandits."
A cheer sounded from Scio's men for their leader, who smiled warily at Father. I narrowed my eyes, curious as to what was occurring between Father and Scio. Father was offering peace. Scio was begrudgingly accepting. Odd. I thought the two of them would rip each other's hearts out, in spite of Grandfather's stipulation to their rule. Maybe they are taking his advice. Maybe they realize that their alliance would strengthen the Family.
I didn't quite know how I felt about that. The two of them working together meant good prospects for the Family, at my expense.
"I would also like to congratulate my son, Axel, for his recent victory in Inaria." This time, rather than only the men of Scio's force, the entirety of the crowd whooped and cheered for my perfect older brother. He stood up and gave Father a smile, before Father beckoned him over and whispered something to him. He nodded, taking a seat next to Father.
"I know some concerns have been voiced regarding the co-Patriachy. But, Grandfather, while sometimes a bit… unmindful of his harsh words—"
A laugh chorused throughout the crowd. It wasn't meant to be a joke, rather a polite jibe at Grandfather. However, everyone really hated Grandfather's attitude, and were far too glad to joke about him posthumously. In fact, the only reason he remained leader for so long was because of the fear he elicited and his tactfulness when dealing with other Families. Father gave them a polite smile, allowing the tangent laughter to continue before holding up a hand to quiet them down.
"As I was saying, Grandfather's harshness proved to have some truth confounded within, as this co-Patriachy between Scio and I will surely bring everlasting prosperity for our Family."
"Everlasting indeed!" Scio echoed. Again, the crowd clapped and cheered. They seemed prone to that, like a sickly virus inciting a coughing fit every few seconds. I viewed them with harsh criticizing eyes, wondering why oh why did they celebrated Grandfather's demise so fervently. I knew the reason in the back of my mind, yet I refused to believe that Grandfather was a ripe old bastard. I continued to look up to him as this effervescent, cunning, critical leader who continued to bring this Family to higher heights. Not some sick old dog that needed to be euthanized.
"Now, feast my friends. Feast and let us all gorge ourselves on the promise of greater times. A new age will be upon us soon. A better age. An age in which our Family rules—" Father preached, before being halted by Axel with a firm hand on the shoulder. He whispered something in his ear and I carefully studied Father's puzzled expression. Must be wondering why the rest of us aren't as ready to conquer and dominate as he is. Must be wondering why we're not all at his feet, licking his shoes, ready to worship him and do whatever he desires.
Eventually, Father sat down and Axel stood in his place.
"As my Father was so passionately expressing, feast my Family. For tomorrow, we thrive!" he yelled, raising his glass of wanterwine into the air as the crowd toasted along with him. It was at that moment I wondered something pivotal: why didn't Grandfather nominate Axel for Patriarch. Axel displayed exceptional vocational ability, battle courage, and leadership qualities that made him perfect for the position. Grandfather even talked to me about Axel in length, praising him for his accomplishments. So why me? Did he see something in me that he didn't see in Axel?
Unlikely. He probably just liked me more.
But would Grandfather be that biased, as to pick someone he likes over someone who is more capable of leadership?
What if his favoritism and the qualities necessary for leadership are one in the same?
Am I capable of any of this?
No.
That gave me some solace surprisingly. I knew who I was. Just a scholar. Nothing more. Nothing less. I would never amount to anything in my life. But, at least, with Falliar actually taking interest in me, I might live with some happiness.
At least I can have love. Is that so wrong? For someone like me? No. I deserve something— somebody, right?
Yes.
With that, I smiled through the rest of the night, with some giddy feeling plaguing my chest.
…
"You want to marry?" my stepmother asked while her servants fanned her.
"I've been talking to her for weeks now, Cecilia. She's a kind, intelligent woman with good connections," I responded, still taking a knee before her. I wouldn't call her my mother, not because I didn't want to, but because she simply asked me to call her by her name. Throughout my life, Cecilia and I had a… neutral relationship. She focused on helping Father, largely ignoring her children, besides dearest Axel. Though, the few times I had conversed with her, she treated me as an amiable acquaintance.
"Then marry. Why come to me?" she asked. In truth, I was wondering the same thing. Why am I going to her? What did I need to ask? She lay on an ornate couch in the main living room, servants all around her producing food and air for her to gorge upon. She wasn't fat. She actually had a very strict routine for herself. For what purpose, I had no clue. She seemed wise. In truth, up until that point, I only thought of her as a glorified advisor to my Father. I know he didn't really love her. Not like he loved mother. She knew that too. Yet, she still stuck around.
"Because… I wanted your advice on how to go about asking. I've only known her for a few weeks, and she's been very kind to me. But, I don't know whether she likes me or not."
"Child. It is alright. Just tell me what she has done with you so far."
So, I explained my days with her. How we talked about history and art and the things I liked. How she described her interest in cataloging and her appreciation of the Isho period scribers. Every time we met, she had always read and understood one of the novels I recommended to her or talked about at length, providing me with intellectual discourse regarding multiple subjects. Beautiful. Smart.
"Okay okay, I understand, child. I think the fact that she is willing to go to such lengths as to read the lengthy volumes you talk about with such focus, must mean that she likes you. Am I wrong?"
I hesitated. "No I don't think so."
"Then why are you so worried? Are you scared?"
"It's just—"
"Just what, my child?"
"It feels as though I haven't done anything to earn it. Earn this. All of this."
She cracked her eyes open and gestured for the servants to leave the room. They did as she asked with haste. Then, she swung her legs off the couch and sighed.
"Child, we are not exactly talking about her only, right?"
I gulped. "No, not exactly."
"You are wondering why Grandfather's blessing for Patriarch fell on your shoulders. You are also wondering what qualities you are missing for him not to give you the Patriarch."
Actually, I'm only wondering about the former. I can guess what qualities I lack.
"Sure."
"Sure?"
"Yes," I sighed. She patted the cushion next to her and I sat down. She had a square jaw, with a crooked nose and near-black eyes. Her short cropped blonde-hair, combined with the overall brutish look over her face, didn't cut the prettiest picture. But, it didn't have to. Father didn't marry her for her looks. Nor did anyone appreciate her for them. People tended to like Cecilia because she always had a knack for saying the right things. Eerily so.
"You may not think yourself to be all that much. Trust me, I know how it feels, being a fourth born with nobody to care for you."
And yet you still ignored me throughout my childhood.
"I bet you're wondering then, 'This hypocrite. Why is she telling me this when she herself ignored me throughout my childhood,'" she said, with a knowing smirk. I cursed not so silently and she laughed, slapping my back with a jovial smile.
"Why?" I asked. Her smile faltered for a moment, but it went right back to its full width.
"I want you to be strong. Like me. I was ignored. Nobody cared for what I did. I had no voice. I was also a bit…"
"Fat?"
"I was going to say I'm overweight, but I'm glad you recognize your flaws."
I grimaced.
She continued. "Regardless, my situation was similar. As was my mother's. She in fact had this very same conversation with me. I think it's a family tradition at this point."
"And may I inquire as to what the point may be to this conversation?"
"Hush now, child. I'm getting to that. So, when I was as young as you, I decided that I wanted to win."
I blinked. Puzzled.
"To win? That's it?"
"Well, I feel as though you're downplaying that sentiment. It's a very hard task."
"Yes but, win at what?"
"Everything."
She let that sit with me for a while, as if waiting for my dramatic reaction. When I didn't give one, she looked unfazed and simply continued on.
"So, I did. I got strong. I became smart. And, out of all of my sisters, all of whom had such promising prospects, I managed to marry The Reckoner and help control one of the most powerful families on this side of the world. I won, in the end."
I sat there, not exactly stunned for words, but more so contemplating her somewhat petty sentiments. She prodded me with her finger while the yellow fire in the corner of the living room crackled.
"So, what? I have to just decide randomly that I'm going to win?"
"No, my child. You're not going to decide to win. You will win. Only then will you truly feel like you earned what you've been given. Only then will you be complacent as Falliar's husband."
I scratched my head, confused. This is just bottomless ambition. What does it have to do with anything? Yet, for some reason, I felt the tiniest, most imperceptible connection to this sentiment.
"What… what is it I have to do to win?"
She clasped her hand on my shoulder and smiled. "A good first step would be to ask for Falliar's hand in marriage."
So, that's exactly what I did.
I offered Falliar a boon that night, asking for matrimony.
She accepted with a joyous squeal.
I loved my stepmother more than anything in the world that night.
And they managed to ruin all of it.
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