♅ 3rd of Ash, Year 121, A.o.S ♅
Company: Grandfather & Father| Thoughts: What an Honor| Mood: Conflicted
Company: Grandfather & Father| Thoughts: What an Honor| Mood: Conflicted
♅ Dreyfus was within the halls of the Montilyet estate today as one of the staff came to him with an urgent summons, as it seemed his grandfather wished to see him, immediately. He was quite uncertain as to what was so important it needed this level of urgency, but whatever it was Dreyfus was sure to find out. Upon making his way to his grandfather's study, he was met by a man, large in stature, abnormally so in fact.
His skin was a rich brown, like mahogany wood, clear of any imperfection one could see. His eyes bore into Dreyfus as he passed him and entered the room. There he was met by his father and grandfather, both men entangled in what looked like a heated debate. To Dreyfus' surprise the subject of all of their yelling.....was him.
"How fucking dare you father!?" his father spat at the grey fox of an old man, Dreyovani looking up from his book to eye Dreymund with a look that most certainly drop a man dead in an instant. He remained silent, seeing his son had more to get off his chest. "We had a deal, we had fucking a deal. You promised me we would pass the mantle on to Dreysus, you promised me that Dreyfus would be spared this fate!"
There was a silence that hung in the air like a condemned criminal before it was broken by Dreyovani closing the book he was reading. Standing from behind his desk, Dreyovani folded his arms over his chest. "I'll allow this outburst to slide, simply because your emotions are at an all-time high over the subject, but do not forget who you are speaking to. Besides as much as I love Dreysus, we both know he is not suited for this mantle, even his parents have attested to that."
Dreymund scoffed, pacing the desk, before coming back to his starting point, a slammed fist hitting the hardwood of the desk. "That's because Dreykon knows what awaits anyone who wheres the mantle, nothing but ruin and death, and I won't have it for Dreyfus." Dreymund was adamant with his words, his glare cutting deep, but Dreyovani was unphased by it.
"Look around you Dreymund, every portrait that adorns these walls is a Monteliyet that has carried this mantle, that have given their lives for the greater good of Zaichaer. This is his destiny son." he went to continue but Dreymund cut him off. "No its a death sentence!" both men stared each other down as neither seemed to budge on their stances.
Dreyovani's eyes shifted to Dreyfus then back to Dreymund. "Dont you think you should let him decide that?" he posed, gesturing to where Dreyfus was standing, as he was the subject of their heated conversation. Dreymund never looked, his stare locked on his father as he stepped forward to stab his finger into the chest of his father. He realized that as steward as he was, he would lose a battle of stubbornness against his father, that much he knew.
"Then allow me to make this very clear to you. If anything happens to Dreyfus, because you put him on this path, and I do mean anything. I will personally sever your head and mount it on the gates to estate, do you understand." he threatened, his father only smirking which infuriated him even further. In a show of that anger and frustration, he tossed the 100lb desk against the wall, shattering it and the contents scattering against the floor.
He turned around and stormed out of the room, and as he passed for the first time in a long time, Dreyfus saw tears falling from his father's eyes, and realizing that Dreyfus was somewhat worried. Taking a moment to allow all he had witnessed to sink in he sighed. It was quite a lot to process for certain. In the silence, the sound of something heavy moving broke it.
"Come, we have a lot of work to do." he commanded, motioning for his grandson to follow him. In all his years he had no idea there was a passage behind that bookshelf. There was a winding staircase that led beneath the home. He began to notice relief sculptures etched into the stone walls as they descended, and his grandfather broke their descending silence with an explanation.
"It has been a long-standing tradition since the Monteliyets first came into existence that the head of the house takes up the mantle of the Schwarze Seele, or as it's roughly translated in the old land tongue, The Black Soul." he began, pointing at the reliefs on the walls as they continued to go down the stair.
"We have held this tradition for quite some time that the head of the house takes on this mantle. acting as the demon that lurks in the shadow of Zaichaer's light. We bathe in the blood of the enemies of the state and do what most would call unethical. Some would call us murderers, assassins, but the truth is far from that. We are more than that. Some would equate us to being the boogeyman, but in reality, we are the ones they call in to kill the boogeyman. We are fear made manifest, dread that shills the blood."
Dreyfus could only listen as his grandfather spoke his rhetoric the two finally coming to the end of that never-ending staircase. His eyes widened a bit, quirked almost, as he was brought into what he could only assume to be a crypt. "Where are we?" he inquired, seeing the confines that lined the walls, each one tucked away in their own little space in the wall. His grandfather chuckled, pointing to the sarcophaguses around them. "This is the family crypt, where many of our family have been buried."
There at the end of the hall of the spacious room stood Dreykon, which surprised Dreyfus. He could see the glint of metal in his hands, and his eyes moved to both men as they stood in front of a large altar. Taking the object from his hands, Dreyovani turned and faced Dreyfus. "This is where your life as a Black Soul begins. There is an ode, a chant, if you will that will bind you to this mantle, and once spoken there is no going back. As I recite this chant, you will drink the wolf's blood, as it is a tradition and is suppose to imbue you with the attributes of the wolf. Know that with this chant you will be forever bound to the shadows forever, bound to bloodying your hands for the good of Zaichaer, do you understand?"
Dreyfus took a moment to let all of what he was being told sink in. Knowing his grandfather he didn't have a choice in the matter, if he wasn't going to budge against Dreymund, he surely wasn't going to budge against him. It was a well-known fact that when Dreyovani ask something of you it was not a request, simply a formality of making you think you had one. With a simple nod of his head, Dreykon gestured for him to kneel, and Dreyfus did so.
Dreykon approached Dreyfus with a bowl of red liquid, not knowing what it was, but having an inkling that it was blood. Dreyovani tap both of Dreyfus' shoulders with the tip of the blade as he spoke. "Dark Beast, Dark Beast, send forth your envoy to spread despair, for the sins of the land must be devoured, and the wicked cleansed from the clean." with those words spoken, Dreyovani took the sheath of the blade from Dreykon as Dreyfus drank from the bowl.
It was horrid, the taste of it, but he did it anyway. He needed a moment, fighting back the need to vomit as it was not something he was used to doing, and he knew his body would make him regret it later. Standing Dreyfus was embraced by both men, and the sword was placed in his hands. "This is Beocassir, a family treasure, a blade that has been wielded by every Dark Soul of the Monteliyets, and now it belongs to you. Lots of lives have been taken by this blade, lots of blood both innocent and guilty have been spilled. This blade comes with a legacy as well as a burden of all the souls and blood that have stained it, so wield it with pride."
It held some strange feeling to him, but he accepted it with pride, as much pride as he held as an heir for the family. It was just another obligation he was given by his family. So tell me nephew, what will this new Dark beast be called? his uncle asked, a curious glint in his eyes as he began to walk past Dreyfus. The young wolf took some time to think about it, as it would speak to the type of Dark Soul he would become.
It had to be something that could easily strike fear into the hearts of those who would be at the end of the blade. He then ran a hand through his hair as he looked at Dreykon. "Dread, I will become the Dread Beast. Those who are unfortunate to know that the Dread Beast comes for them will spend their last moments with fear, and know, that there is no escape."
With a smile, Dreykon only chuckled as he walked away leaving Dreyfus to soak in his new mantle. How interesting, well I hope you are ready, your training starts very soon. he mused ascending the spiraling stairwell. Dreyovani was soon behind him, leaving Dreyfus alone. As he looked around he could see the names of previous Dark Souls before him, and catching his eye was a sarcophagus with his name on it. ♅
"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"
