The Great Oddity

During a particularly harsh winter, year 50 of the 10th Era, Baron Tytus Paraxus and Baroness Yoroxa Paraxus, had perished from the Winter Illness. I was only 17 years old, and I was betrothed to Lady Helena Ionia of County Saltaria, who would marry me shortly after my parents’ death. The nobility had seen the marriage as the result of a conspiracy to gain power from the death of my parents.

Despite their claims, I became Lord Baron Rytus Paraxus under the King’s Decree, and I soon fell in love with my Baroness. We shared many days holding each other in comfort, as she had also lost her parents during the same Winter Illness. She was holding our child, Issac, in her womb, until her last breath when we turned 19. My son also perished. The Great Scourge had happened not too long ago, which killed mothers during birth, but at least the children survived. However, the nobles looked at me with contempt, as if the Goddess of Fertility had cursed my family, especially since Helena was named after the goddess herself, Helyena. Due to this, nobles avoided any attempt of betrothals with my house. For years, I had been left alone to rule my Barony with a hungry heart and a broken soul.

To combat my loneliness, I had spent many long days and nights training my sword work with some of the captains and sergeants in my father’s beloved personal army. At age 21, I was able to defeat Captain Phylx Casus in a duel. Though, if it were a true fight with steel swords rather than wood, I would have met my end sooner than anticipated.

Captain Phylx Casus, blatantly named after the God of Honor, Phylxus, served my father for 10 years as a foot soldier before his passing. During the Perseus War, he was rumored to spearhead the rescue operation that freed my father and his elite guards from their imprisonment. When my father offered him a title, he turned it down due to his low-born status and the negative impression it would give to other lords towards my father. Instead, Phylx accepted a position as the Left Hand in the elite guard.

When my father died, I promoted Phylx to Captain, and I had his elite guard perform patrol duties rather than shadow my every step. After all, they were much better at protecting my own people than I was. Of course, he was apprehensive of the higher ranking and lower workload, but he ultimately accepted the position and he acknowledged my reasoning.

I learned advanced mathematics, engineering, and medicine soon after mastering the sword with the books my mother left behind in her large library. Within those texts, I had also learned the history of the Imperium, since most of our knowledge and customs were heavily reliant on Imperium culture. As much as I read about the Imperium, though, there was much about the Imperium that was shrouded in deep mystery. Even so, I believed that I was perhaps the among the only lords to actively pursue this knowledge, knowing the sorry state of education in our kingdom.

Around age 23 or 24, I was asked to marry the Countess of Thodecus, Lady Yoroxia, named after Yoroxa, the Goddess of the Heart, because her husband had passed away from old age. She was 54 from what I heard. I was not interested, not just because of her age, but I had heard about her obsession with the 11 gods and how every single god had control over every aspect of her life. I detested superstition, and most people would say the same this day and age.

One day, many lives in this realm had suddenly changed. The sky had turned red after a brisk autumn day, along with the moon at night. Crows were flying into buildings, pigs were piling onto each other to death, and dogs were all cowering from nothing. Monsters that lived in the caves and forests had grown stronger, requiring most scouting parties to train much harder to combat them. All of these odd happenings lasted only a day, which the day was aptly called “The Great Oddity”.

The oddest thing had occurred, though: messenger birds had delivered their letters to the wrong recipient, for better or for worse. Oddly, some birds would still stay at their destination to wait for a response. Suddenly, people were concerned about the God of the Sky, Sycus, and his power over this realm. I was one who received such a letter, addressed to a “Marcus Tabot”, a tavern keeper in an unknown town.

“My Dear Marcus Tabot,

Months have passed and I eagerly await for your magical words, the words that will light a fire within this cold world I call my home. My love for you has grown with such anticipation. My soul has wasted away every night without your presence in our bed. As much as I want you home, I know that you are working much too hard at the tavern to support us…

Please write back to me soon, I need your words to heal my pain of being away from you…

Your Love”

I was stricken by the overtly passionate love letter. I could not help but feel both pity for this poor woman without her love accompanying her, and anger for trusting a man who left his woman alone to work as a tavern keeper in a distant city.

I read the letter a few more times out of compulsion. I could not stop feeling wanted, loved, and desired. After losing so much of my life, and wanting to feel love again, I felt that this was my opportunity. I decided to become Marcus Tabot, the tavern keeper.

“My Dearest,

Please forgive my absence in our shared anticipation for each other’s words of warm affection. My time at the tavern has increased and has distracted me from the true purpose of my work: to provide the warmest house in the winter for you, to provide livestock so we can fill our stomachs all year long, and to provide gold to our coffers without the fear of living in poverty. However, I was touched by your letter, and I will continue to give you my words of eternal affection as soon as I can.

My heart sings songs about you and about the time we can meet again. I imagine all the things we would do… The loving embrace by the warm fireplace, the passionate kisses that exalts us into divinity, the life that we would foster in your stomach soon after… I dream of feeling your touch again. No angel from the Goddess of Fertility can ever match your velvet hands and your silk hair.

Please write back soon, your words are my beacons of hope in these winter nights.

Love,

Marcus”

I did not know what to say about myself at this point. My heart pounded like a war drum, my blood rushed through my body like a raging river, and my head ached as if someone drove a blade between my eyes. I wanted this love so much, but it was someone else’s love. As a respected noble of my people, this should not reach the light of day, for I would die of embarrassment and dishonor before plunging my sword into my heart.

I was not a lord that would take women in as a concubine, and leave them out in the streets after they birthed an heir. I was not a lord that would steal my commonfolk’s hard-earned gold under the guise of taxation, as most of the lords of this land would do. I was not a lord that would wage war with the king because I desired more land than I deserved. I was not that lord.

So was this acceptable? Was I willing to justify impersonation to find love? I was simply lying to a fine maiden who misses her dear love. But the man decided to be away from her. He decided to leave her alone at home. I was doing the right thing. I was fulfilling her desires, and she was filling the dark chasm in my lonely heart. She may not know it, but at least she would be happy, right?

A few days after sending the letter, another letter was delivered by the same bird. I was awestruck. My hands trembled opening the letter. My hope was too much to bear, because she might have known that her love was an imposter after my letter. The sinking feeling was grasping my legs and pulling me down to Underearth. I opened the letter.

“My Dearest Love, Marcus,

I am beyond elated to read your letter and feel the love in the words you have given me. My heart cannot take much more anticipation. I want to read more and feel more from you. I know that we both want to be together again, but I know that we cannot. Please, my love, stay at your tavern for as long as you can. I will find you after my mother is well. I will protect you with my life.

I also noticed that your handwriting looks beautiful compared to months ago. I am proud to see your efforts as the tavern keeper are shining, even through something as simple as writing letters. I want you to tell me about your experience there so far. I want to see through your eyes for a little while. I want to know how you feel and think in your life out there.

Please, write to me as soon as you can.

Your love”

I succeeded in fooling her? I only realized that my handwriting was a dead give-away to my noble status. She was a brilliant, insightful, caring woman. She should have been able to notice, but she did not. Or did she choose not to?

As I read the letter again and again, my heart was swelling with some kind of warmth. It was part happiness and part relief. I was fully entranced. As I was educated under the noble doctrines, I was taught as a man of power to provide and protect over my “subjects of low-birth” and the “weak” women that serve me in body and in court. However, I had never believed in such a distasteful lack of respect. Reading a letter from a woman who wanted to protect me… She had entranced me to my core.

I tossed and turned at night, knowing that my own stories were too tragic to write in these letters to complete her request. I had to change my scenery. I had been brooding in my keep for so long. I decided that it was time to visit the tavern.