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Caleb Widogast was not real. At least, that was the mantra Bren told himself over and over in his head. Those five words repeated like a promise. It was a role he had created for himself to play. He was not the former Scourger looking to stone for some vast fiery sins that could not be spoken aloud. He was a Volstrucker, always doing what was necessary. Always doing what was necessary to survive. Always following orders.
His most recent orders had almost felt beneath him when they were first issued. Walk the Empire under the guise of one of its poorest; watch and report on weaknesses or hints of rebellion - anything that could lead to grasps for power, particularly so in the times of war. Clearly Master Ikithon had his own lust and longing for more power. Just as his how his three highest ranking students had a longing to steal that power away from him. But for now, Bren would play this part. He would become Caleb Widogast.
And it was Caleb Widogast that would come to be loved in ways Bren never would be. It was Caleb that Nott the Brave grew protective of. It was Caleb that was one of the founding members of the Mighty Nein. It was Caleb that watched their backs in battle. But it was Bren that fixated on the monk, watching her for all of her weaknesses and any ways she could be exploited to lessen the hold of the Cobalt Soul. It was Bren who held nothing but distrust for the purple Tiefling with constant lies on his tongue and an ever changing past. It was Bren that came up with plans to kill each and every one of them.
But there came points where the line between Bren and Caleb grew too blurry. When he began to doubt his role amongst the group. The rage he felt watching the glaive sink through Mollymauk’s chest. The channelling of that rage into the fireball he sent through Lorenzo’s. This… care and worry and grief that Bren knew himself incapable of. Why should he care if Molly died? Why should he care if he couldn’t quite stop thinking about the concept of trying to be good everywhere he went? Trying to leave every place better than when he found it? As if Bren would ever be given the chance at such redemption; the chance to show true mercy.
Then… Then Bren found himself on Darktow and wondering which deity he’d pissed off to lead his life down such an unexpected path. He’d gone from a ‘royal assassin’ of sorts with a far prettier name to a fucking pirate . Not only that but their ship was called the Balleater . Bren could already imagine the sound of Astrid’s voice cackling with laughter when the news inevitably reached her. That, at least, caused the barest hint of a smile to creep onto his lips. Though, it didn’t lessen the blow of feeling like a true fall from grace.
Surely things could only look up and look up they certainly did. Entering the Dynasty was beyond going against orders - even more so when ‘Caleb’ handed over the Beacon to the Bright Queen. The retribution he’d face for that would be thunderous but to gain the Bright Queen’s favour… That opened many doors that should have been forever closed. It offered opportunities none of his profession would have otherwise and Bren would not waste it. He would milk this token of solidarity for all it was worth; use it just as used the Nein’s friendship. Because he was still using them. Caleb cared about them but Bren did not. Bren could not. To care for them would be to put them in danger and he… he didn’t truly know why such a thought gave him such unease.
But it was within the Dynasty that Bren met someone truly unexpected.
Shadowhand Essek Thelyss.
In the loosest sense, Bren had some idea of the dealings the drow held with the Cerberus Assembly - those that would gain both the Shadowhand and Bren a death sentence within the Dynasty should they be made public. But Essek did not seem to realise who Caleb truly was and Bren was not about to risk everything for the smallest possibility of an unnecessary ally. From what he knew, the Shadowhand was practical; rely on a colder nature and self-interest far more than the needs of others. In that way, perhaps he and Bren were alike. Perhaps… Perhaps that was what made Bren’s heart skip a beat whenever he was near. Perhaps that was what had the truth dancing on the tip of ‘Caleb‘s’ tongue.
What Bren hadn’t planned on was the Mighty Nein getting attached to Essek. They worked their way into what little heart someone like the Shadowhand could hold and were so firmly set on staying there. And that left Bren in a complicated position. Of course, Caleb benefited from this closeness. Essek helped teach him the ways of Dunamancy, occasionally even helping the Scrouger develop his own spells - not that the drow had any idea who he was truly helping. And being near Essek… being near Essek soothed the aching that had gone so deeply through Caleb’s heart that it had dripped onto Bren’s.
But people like him didn’t care for petty relationships. They had time to manipulate but they did not have time to cling to impossibilities.
Like caring for the Mighty Nein.
Like growing to love Essek Thelyss.
Yet both impossibilities seemed to transfix themselves into wants that made Bren’s skin itch far more than the residuum in his arms ever had.
Both feelings worsened by Lucien’s return from the grave; of staring at the face of a man that had been Caleb’s (never Bren’s) friend and meeting them eyes of an enemy. Yet it brought the Nein closer together; it gave them an impossible reliance on each other. Mollymauk had been one of them, after all. He would not want the world to fall to such corruption. For whatever reason, Essek found himself a member of the Nein and the lines between Bren and Caleb blurred once more.
Because Bren had no reason to help the Mighty Nein.
Because Caleb had every reason to help the Mighty Nein.
Caleb had every reason to do the impossible to help ready the others to confront the Sonmovem. Caleb had every reason to fight as one of them. Caleb had every reason to want to raise Mollymauk Tealeaf from the grave. Caleb had every right to feel relief as Caduceus’s devotion to his goddess granted the Nein their ninth member once more.
Bren had none.
Then came the decision to return to the Blooming Grove once more; to rest and recuperate from their own scars and wounds left behind by Lucien. It would give Bren the perfect chance to leave; to drop the guise of Caleb Widogast and return to Rexxentrum as Bren Aldric Ermendrud with a silent prayer to never see any of the Nein again; to never see their reaction to his betrayal. Deep down, the Nein had done to Bren what they had done to Essek; found an ally that should have been an impossibility.
But, as with all things, fate rarely remained on his side.
The Blooming Grove burned as Master Ikithon, with Wulf and Astrid flanking each of his sides, made his presence known. He held none of the hesitation Caleb Bren did at revealing the true nature of his place amongst them. In fact, he seemed to almost enjoy the concept of tearing Caleb Widogast apart; announcing that someone so integral to their group had been a fabrication - never even remotely real in the first place. Part of Bren wanted to protest; to justify himself but he knew he could not return to the Nein and to turn on the Assembly now would mean nothing but his own death.
Without a single word to his former friends - to the one person his heart ached for beyond all else - Bren took his place besides Astrid and Eadwulf, shedding off the disguise that had been Caleb Widogast.
It was as he watched the faces of the Nein fall as he turned against them that a realisation hit him. As fire licked his finger tips and he took his place opposed his former travelling companions, a great realisation hit Bren.
Bren Aldric Ermendrud was not Caleb Widogast but by the Gods, did he want to be. And it was as he truly registered those words that hellfire broke out around him with one true unwavering target in mind.