TIMESTAMP: 14th Sun's Zenith, 122
NOTES: -
NOTES: -
► Show Spoiler
- - -
- - -
- - -
Woven between their classes about the Inquisition itself, they attended one which went over the general structure, laws, and governance of the Gelerian Imperium as a whole. The information was a mix of dry and interesting, bouncing between topics of intrigue, laws, and outright propaganda. It was abundantly clear even without it being directly stated that heretics here would not be tolerated in even the most subtle of ways.
For Hector, he understood why it was like this. The vampyre found the Emperor's yoke on his people to be relatable. How can one ensure that their nation is running as one pleases unless one is strict with one's rules, exacting and precise with one's control? That didn't mean he thought this was a net good, or an ideal way to run a country, but he definitely saw how easy it was for domineering types to fall into a leadership style like this. If he were to ever find himself in a position of equitable power, it would be a trap he'd struggle not to find himself ensnared in as well.
For a person who loves control, the Emperor's throne would be a dream come true– the most comfortable fit one could find on the continent. Despite the Imperium’s size, the Emperor kept most of the final decision making in his hands. Even if he had officials of his court delegating that which he did not have the time or interest in dealing with, he could intervene at nearly any point at his whim. This extended from all interprovincial infrastructure to the noble houses, international affairs, military endeavors, trade and on and on.
All of that is even before one reaches the concept of the Imperial Mandate– a set of rules that were hand made by the Emperor and could be changed at his whimsy. They're so flexible, even, that if a new Emperor were to be crowned, they could then demolish the entirety of that which the old one had set up and write these laws anew. What the Mandate supported, so too would the resources of the Imperium. It would also dictate which gods were acceptable and many other doctrines surrounding what is acceptable for citizens to believe and how they may conduct themselves. Should one find oneself in violation of this capricious rules, the consequences were swift and often dire.
The provinces themselves are apparently ruled by a Duchy each, but they, too, were subject to the Imperial Mandate, giving the Emperor ultimate control in this regard as well. They may be told they can rule as they please, but the second they violate the Mandate? The Emperor can toss them into the fire just as easily as anyone else. It solely is up to him how much he cares to involve himself.
Below the Duchy sat provincial parliaments, apparently, though Hector saw no point in them outside of the upper house being puppets of the Emperor's will and the lower house existing to placate the common man. They, alongside the Duchy, "rule" each province. However, they only exist because the Emperor wills it to be. Again, if he willed it, the entirety of this system could be annulled and rebuilt from the ground up; the Emperor would only need to give his word for such a thing to happen.
It was all very elaborate and had many aspects which mimicked more democratic styles of governance. Ultimately, such things were either for show or used to do most of the work for the Emperor so he could keep his attention elsewhere. It really was an impressive design, one had to admit. The balance struck between being suffocatingly authoritarian and granting the illusion of choice and freedom was surprisingly well maintained.
The trouble was that Hector found some of the Emperor's sanctions and rules to be utter lunacy, but he knew damn well such words could never be uttered. Maybe to Vergil…but that would still be a risk. What if somebody overheard? Even in the relative sanctuary of their apartment, they had no way of verifying if somebody might overhear a conversation through the walls. One might say, even if this were so, why would a neighbor care? Well…the attitude beaten into the citizens was that such things should be reported. Not only that, but it was something akin to a civic duty more so than anything else.
This class in particular was taught in a similar room to the others that ran in tandem, small, windowless, buried within the depths of the Cathedral. It was claustrophobic in more ways than one. For the first week, Hector and Vergil made little to no attempts whatsoever to speak with their fellow classmates. The elder of the two appeared simply uninterested. Hector had the social skills of a feral cat– he was panicky and often bristled when forced to interact with strangers. That is…in most cases. In others, somehow, the shackles of his anxiety became light and he could be bold.
But what was the difference? It was hard to say. Some people were just easier to approach. Some were objectively more interesting, visually, than others. Others? Well, following in his cat-like behavior, he simply enjoyed knocking things over to watch the aftermath, to stir a reaction and so on.
If he found a person uninteresting or couldn't see them benefiting him…well, Hector really didn't know how to act, nor did he want to figure it out, and as such, he found interactions of that variety to be an exercise in tedium. Utterly grating in their nature, he avoided situations of that nature as much as he could. That, and honestly, a lot of the other students came across not as uninteresting, but utterly insufferable.
Some of them were so zealous in their ardor for the Imperium and its beloved Emperor that frankly, it made Hector feel ill when they spoke on the subjects. Which was…quite often, in fact, given the content of their current classes. It was clear they'd been raised here and dreamt of pursuing the ranks of the Inquisition for at least the vast majority of their lives. It was mostly these that Hector hoped to avoid; playing the part to keep tensions low was one of the least fun acting roles he'd ever had to play.
Those that were the most grating were those who clearly knew all of this information but were made to attend each class anyways as part of the education structure. It was designed to accommodate anyone, even recruited foreigners like Hector and Vergil. However, this was much to the ire of those who'd been here for their whole lives, especially so if they were from families of power as it was very apparent this information had been suffused into their very beings for their whole lives. Their impatience was palpable and their disdain for those who weren't like them radiated off of them in heavy, disgusted waves. Clearly, many of them thought that those who weren't alike to them did not deserve a position as an Inquisitor under any circumstance and thus, the mere existence of a class like this was an insult to them. Why, they would moan, should somebody who'd reached adulthood so ignorant of the Imperium's laws and customs ever be allowed any modicum of power? They'd never serve as well as somebody raised here, some would argue.
To this, the Bishop would simply silence them with the idea that this was the Emperor's will, after all. If he approved of this structure, who were they to question it? They'd shut up right quick when this was expressed as it was apparent that their endless zeal was conflicting with their beloved idol and such a thing most obviously tore them up inside. Hector found their distress at the dissonance to be funny, laughing on the inside at the faces they would make.
Not everyone was like this, though. There were some who appeared to be extraordinary mages as their primary reason for joining, and among them, most of their reasons were different. Of these, some were licensed mages that had simply been living as citizens but that were so remarkable, the Inquisition sought them out for the purpose of recruitment. For others, it was clear that they wanted a longer leash to flex their aether; power was what they sought through this endeavor. This group had more varied opinions on religion and politics, Hector could tell from their tones and how they spoke, though they danced to the Emperor's rhythm all the same. It was obligatory, after all.
Two students who'd initially sat elsewhere eventually rotated over to where the pair of silent vampyres sat. It was known that the two of them performed remarkably well, especially for not being native, as some had overheard these sentiments being expressed and then the information flowed like water. Zaichaeri refugee mages joining the Inquisition was a hot topic of gossip, after all.
Of those two that joined them, they were both women. One was stoic, stone faced, ambiguous in age and just as silent as the two foreign men. She was an obvious witchborn– the way her runes wove so beautifully over her skin gave that much away. The delicate filigree looked lovely when it caught light, but she appeared to prefer to keep her skin covered. What little they knew of her story was that she was an excellent caster. A brilliant Elementalist primarily, she also held Semblance and Kinetics runes. She came from an upbringing that wasn't near sparkling enough for the more pretentious members of the class, and as such, she chose to sit here as she found them both irritating and distracting.
As for the other, she was a young human woman who'd walked in alongside those who radiated wealth and power. Funnily enough, though, she appeared to find her peers just as annoying as anyone who didn't walk among them. She, too, moved to sit in silence beside the pair of strangers. Apparently, she did not like them because she considered them to be somewhat poor magically, at least, to her remarkably high standards, and that most were there because of their families. As for her, her prowess as an Animist and Mesmer were spoken about in awed whispers, rumors of a girl with an undeniable gift, but also of one who was both diligent and hard working. She was disgusted by the weaker mages and appeared to be friends with the elven woman, likely because they were similarly skilled and shared a work ethic.
Most of this information was overheard in short clips of conversations the two women had with one another. Neither pair engaged with each other, really, but there was an air of mutual respect. From the women, there was also curiosity. Nobody actually knew what runes Hector or Vergil possessed and when asked, both of them declined to answer with empty voices and blank expressions. Whether it was appropriate or not to share with other Acolytes didn't really matter to them, rather, they didn't want to deal with yet more gossip admitting to being vampyres would most certainly invite.
For Hector, he understood why it was like this. The vampyre found the Emperor's yoke on his people to be relatable. How can one ensure that their nation is running as one pleases unless one is strict with one's rules, exacting and precise with one's control? That didn't mean he thought this was a net good, or an ideal way to run a country, but he definitely saw how easy it was for domineering types to fall into a leadership style like this. If he were to ever find himself in a position of equitable power, it would be a trap he'd struggle not to find himself ensnared in as well.
For a person who loves control, the Emperor's throne would be a dream come true– the most comfortable fit one could find on the continent. Despite the Imperium’s size, the Emperor kept most of the final decision making in his hands. Even if he had officials of his court delegating that which he did not have the time or interest in dealing with, he could intervene at nearly any point at his whim. This extended from all interprovincial infrastructure to the noble houses, international affairs, military endeavors, trade and on and on.
All of that is even before one reaches the concept of the Imperial Mandate– a set of rules that were hand made by the Emperor and could be changed at his whimsy. They're so flexible, even, that if a new Emperor were to be crowned, they could then demolish the entirety of that which the old one had set up and write these laws anew. What the Mandate supported, so too would the resources of the Imperium. It would also dictate which gods were acceptable and many other doctrines surrounding what is acceptable for citizens to believe and how they may conduct themselves. Should one find oneself in violation of this capricious rules, the consequences were swift and often dire.
The provinces themselves are apparently ruled by a Duchy each, but they, too, were subject to the Imperial Mandate, giving the Emperor ultimate control in this regard as well. They may be told they can rule as they please, but the second they violate the Mandate? The Emperor can toss them into the fire just as easily as anyone else. It solely is up to him how much he cares to involve himself.
Below the Duchy sat provincial parliaments, apparently, though Hector saw no point in them outside of the upper house being puppets of the Emperor's will and the lower house existing to placate the common man. They, alongside the Duchy, "rule" each province. However, they only exist because the Emperor wills it to be. Again, if he willed it, the entirety of this system could be annulled and rebuilt from the ground up; the Emperor would only need to give his word for such a thing to happen.
It was all very elaborate and had many aspects which mimicked more democratic styles of governance. Ultimately, such things were either for show or used to do most of the work for the Emperor so he could keep his attention elsewhere. It really was an impressive design, one had to admit. The balance struck between being suffocatingly authoritarian and granting the illusion of choice and freedom was surprisingly well maintained.
The trouble was that Hector found some of the Emperor's sanctions and rules to be utter lunacy, but he knew damn well such words could never be uttered. Maybe to Vergil…but that would still be a risk. What if somebody overheard? Even in the relative sanctuary of their apartment, they had no way of verifying if somebody might overhear a conversation through the walls. One might say, even if this were so, why would a neighbor care? Well…the attitude beaten into the citizens was that such things should be reported. Not only that, but it was something akin to a civic duty more so than anything else.
This class in particular was taught in a similar room to the others that ran in tandem, small, windowless, buried within the depths of the Cathedral. It was claustrophobic in more ways than one. For the first week, Hector and Vergil made little to no attempts whatsoever to speak with their fellow classmates. The elder of the two appeared simply uninterested. Hector had the social skills of a feral cat– he was panicky and often bristled when forced to interact with strangers. That is…in most cases. In others, somehow, the shackles of his anxiety became light and he could be bold.
But what was the difference? It was hard to say. Some people were just easier to approach. Some were objectively more interesting, visually, than others. Others? Well, following in his cat-like behavior, he simply enjoyed knocking things over to watch the aftermath, to stir a reaction and so on.
If he found a person uninteresting or couldn't see them benefiting him…well, Hector really didn't know how to act, nor did he want to figure it out, and as such, he found interactions of that variety to be an exercise in tedium. Utterly grating in their nature, he avoided situations of that nature as much as he could. That, and honestly, a lot of the other students came across not as uninteresting, but utterly insufferable.
Some of them were so zealous in their ardor for the Imperium and its beloved Emperor that frankly, it made Hector feel ill when they spoke on the subjects. Which was…quite often, in fact, given the content of their current classes. It was clear they'd been raised here and dreamt of pursuing the ranks of the Inquisition for at least the vast majority of their lives. It was mostly these that Hector hoped to avoid; playing the part to keep tensions low was one of the least fun acting roles he'd ever had to play.
Those that were the most grating were those who clearly knew all of this information but were made to attend each class anyways as part of the education structure. It was designed to accommodate anyone, even recruited foreigners like Hector and Vergil. However, this was much to the ire of those who'd been here for their whole lives, especially so if they were from families of power as it was very apparent this information had been suffused into their very beings for their whole lives. Their impatience was palpable and their disdain for those who weren't like them radiated off of them in heavy, disgusted waves. Clearly, many of them thought that those who weren't alike to them did not deserve a position as an Inquisitor under any circumstance and thus, the mere existence of a class like this was an insult to them. Why, they would moan, should somebody who'd reached adulthood so ignorant of the Imperium's laws and customs ever be allowed any modicum of power? They'd never serve as well as somebody raised here, some would argue.
To this, the Bishop would simply silence them with the idea that this was the Emperor's will, after all. If he approved of this structure, who were they to question it? They'd shut up right quick when this was expressed as it was apparent that their endless zeal was conflicting with their beloved idol and such a thing most obviously tore them up inside. Hector found their distress at the dissonance to be funny, laughing on the inside at the faces they would make.
Not everyone was like this, though. There were some who appeared to be extraordinary mages as their primary reason for joining, and among them, most of their reasons were different. Of these, some were licensed mages that had simply been living as citizens but that were so remarkable, the Inquisition sought them out for the purpose of recruitment. For others, it was clear that they wanted a longer leash to flex their aether; power was what they sought through this endeavor. This group had more varied opinions on religion and politics, Hector could tell from their tones and how they spoke, though they danced to the Emperor's rhythm all the same. It was obligatory, after all.
Two students who'd initially sat elsewhere eventually rotated over to where the pair of silent vampyres sat. It was known that the two of them performed remarkably well, especially for not being native, as some had overheard these sentiments being expressed and then the information flowed like water. Zaichaeri refugee mages joining the Inquisition was a hot topic of gossip, after all.
Of those two that joined them, they were both women. One was stoic, stone faced, ambiguous in age and just as silent as the two foreign men. She was an obvious witchborn– the way her runes wove so beautifully over her skin gave that much away. The delicate filigree looked lovely when it caught light, but she appeared to prefer to keep her skin covered. What little they knew of her story was that she was an excellent caster. A brilliant Elementalist primarily, she also held Semblance and Kinetics runes. She came from an upbringing that wasn't near sparkling enough for the more pretentious members of the class, and as such, she chose to sit here as she found them both irritating and distracting.
As for the other, she was a young human woman who'd walked in alongside those who radiated wealth and power. Funnily enough, though, she appeared to find her peers just as annoying as anyone who didn't walk among them. She, too, moved to sit in silence beside the pair of strangers. Apparently, she did not like them because she considered them to be somewhat poor magically, at least, to her remarkably high standards, and that most were there because of their families. As for her, her prowess as an Animist and Mesmer were spoken about in awed whispers, rumors of a girl with an undeniable gift, but also of one who was both diligent and hard working. She was disgusted by the weaker mages and appeared to be friends with the elven woman, likely because they were similarly skilled and shared a work ethic.
Most of this information was overheard in short clips of conversations the two women had with one another. Neither pair engaged with each other, really, but there was an air of mutual respect. From the women, there was also curiosity. Nobody actually knew what runes Hector or Vergil possessed and when asked, both of them declined to answer with empty voices and blank expressions. Whether it was appropriate or not to share with other Acolytes didn't really matter to them, rather, they didn't want to deal with yet more gossip admitting to being vampyres would most certainly invite.
- - -
Aidolon Speech
'Thoughts'
"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"