Chapter Text
Nine years after the Archdemon war, the noble house of Ranka had two daughters, the eldest was Cermia at fourteen years, and the youngest was Carrot at seven. By the laws of primogeniture, Cermia was heir to the Ranka family fortunes, its castles and estates, and its army. Her early childhood revealed her to be a once-in-a-generation prodigy, quickly picking up the arcane arts and the sword with ease. Meanwhile, Carrot showed a mediocre understanding of the former, which was fine; she was a second child.
In the cold feudal calculus of noble politics, it was natural that the Ranka House hedged their bets on their star child, granting them the gifts befitting of an heir, while the spare merely received but a sliver. Tutors, blades, books and more had drowned Cermia in a deluge of busywork which would have broken any child. Nevertheless, the heir to the Ranka house rose to the challenge, finishing her studies early, only to be gracefully rewarded with more work.
There is a proverb whispered among the Ezeran elites that claim, "For every child born to nobility, Diche flips a coin, determining their destiny: greatness or madness." To the noble Ranka parents, Cermia appeared a surefire bet; within her resided the essence of queens. Little did they suspect, though, of the beast that lurked in her heart, with the potential to lay the entire house to ruin.
Nightfall descended upon Tirel, the sprawling capital city of Ezera illuminated by a constellation of torches, a celestial display beneath the cosmos. Beyond the colossal palace at its heart and the ramshackle slums near the fringes lay a wall, and beyond this barrier, a hill. At the hill's zenith stood a resplendent castle, its spire reaching skyward and its gate imbued with arcane power. The banners of House Ranka adorned the fortress, boasting a regal lion exhaling tongues of flame. This formidable castle had sheltered the Rankas through the storm of the Archdemon war while countless other houses succumbed to ruin. The stronghold proved adept at repelling unwanted visitors, yet for the children within, it was nothing short of a prison.
Carrot Ranka beheld the fruits of her labour, a book's worth of notes laid before her, the air thick with the dusty smell of parchment. Candlelight illuminated her study; what once was a tower of wax had melted into a mere white puddle alight with a dim flame. It reminded her how far she had yet to go, pathetically needing the light of a candle. Coming from a family naturally attuned to the primordial forces of creation, not being able to make her own fire was deeply embarrassing. Her parents would comfort her occasionally, labelling her a late bloomer, but they could never hide their disappointment, and neither did Carrot. Seven years old was much too late. She sighed and leaned back on her wooden seat, her eyes tired from a day of cramming. The girl toyed with the idea of her being adopted, for how could the same seed spring up different trees?
She looked out the glass window of her room; her mind wandered into the city, to the stars, wondering of other worlds. Hers was boring, inhabited only by play dates and her sister's shadow. She dreamt of a great escape in her sleep, mastering fire and using it to propel her heavenward. Schematics popped into her mind, like a chair attached to a million fireworks or a giant cannon that shot her out. But these were the schematics of a dull child like her; the ones in her books were much more complicated. Escape, it seemed, was far less simple than she had hoped.
She heard a thump and a rustle in the garden below her window, followed by a muffled curse in her sister's voice. Carrot immediately opened her window, her short stubby arms barely reaching the latch. She looked down, her eyes slowly adapting to the dark. Another rustle, there! One of the shrubs had just swayed.
"Cermia!?" she called out loudly. The rustling intensified, and her older sister's head emerged from the bushes. Cermia pressed a finger to her lips, signalling for Carrot to be quiet. A hint of panic was evident on her face, a sight unfamiliar to Carrot. In the rare moments she had managed to glimpse her perpetually occupied sister, Carrot had only known Cermia's unyielding facade—the guiding star Carrot was destined to follow. But witnessing panic added a new, unsettling dimension to her mundane world. "What are you doing there?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Shut up!" Cermia hissed, "you want mom to kill me?" Carrot's eyes widened; why would mom want to kill her? Why would anyone?
"Why?"
"I'm not supposed to be here," Cermia loudly whispered, "look, just forget this ever happened and go to sleep."
"Why are you down there?"
"It's none of your business."
Something stirred in Carrot's heart; she was too curious to let this go. That was when she realised that, for the first time, she had something over Cermia. Perfect, infallible Cermia was under her mercy. A smile graced Carrot's cherubic face, almost jumping with restrained energy, "if you don't tell me, I'm going to tell mom!"
Cermia's eyes narrowed in disdain, "I'm going to meet up with some friends, happy?"
Carrot was feeling a high. Is this what other people would call a power trip? Nevertheless, messing with her sister like this was fun, "take me with you!"
Her older sister scrunched her features, confused, "what, no!"
"Then I'm telling mom!" she said, a mischievous look on her face. She chanted the words again and again like a spell. One imbued with powerful magic.
Her older sister sighed, defeated, "fine, come down." Carrot looked back to the door in her room and wondered how she'd sneak past her parents. Cermia seemed to have noticed, "are you stupid?! Just jump down."
Redness flushed her cheeks; it was an insult that touched too close, "I'm not stupid!"
"Then jump down," Her older sister hissed, "I'll catch you."
The two had a back and forth, with Carrot repeatedly asking, "are you sure?" until Cermia lost her patience and barked at her little sister to jump. Carrot shakily stood at the window, fear paralysing her body. Her room was on the second floor, which might as well be a mile drop to someone as tiny as her. But the sight of Cermia's waiting arms reassured her, and she jumped. The wind screamed at her as she fell until--
--thump. Cermia had caught her, but Carrot's weight was too much to bear, and she stumbled to the ground with an "oof!" Followed by an apology from the younger sister.
"So, where are we going?" Carrot asked excitedly once the pair had recovered.
" I was gonna meet up with some friends out in the plaza till you came along," Plaza, Carrot repeated the word in her head Plaza... It was a surreal word to her. A word she had only seen in her books, the one about managing towns, but she's never seen one in person. They inhabited the same space in her mind as fictional tales of space adventurers. Most plazas were hidden by towering buildings whenever she looked out of her parent's carriage or the window. Presumably, it was where non-nobles gathered, but that didn't seem right to her. Why gather when you could spend your time working the noble's land instead, paying taxes and...The thought ended there, what did commoners do again?
Cermia crouched down to meet Carrot's eyes, hands on her shoulder. Cermia lectured her like a strict parent, "listen, keep quiet, stay by my side and don't do anything stupid. If you feel scared, you scream. Got it?" Carrot nodded and started to walk with Cermia.
It must've been a very peculiar sight, two sisters in the dead of night sneaking through a garden. Carrot reckoned the guards would be so confused when they caught them, if they caught them. For why would a noble ever want to escape their own castle? Because home was boring.
Cermia approached a section of the wall that was less pristine than the rest. There were grooves and edges on the wall that one could fit their hand into. Nine years on, Tirel still bore the scars of war--no, rather, they were wounds still left untreated. Cermia looked back to Carrot, "great, now get on my back." The younger Ranka looked on blankly, confused, "can you climb a wall?" Carrot shook her head, "then mount up." The younger sister did as she was told, arms wrapped around Cermia like a baby monkey, "hold on tight, yeah?" Carrot nodded, her grip tightened around Cermia.
"I won't let go," Carrot said with resolve. Cermia started to climb. Two hands slipped neatly into a sword-shaped hole. She was struggling to lift herself with Carrot's added weight; Cermia had underestimated how heavy her sister was. But it was too late to give up now; she'd look like a chump. So against her better judgement, she kept going, as all fourteen-year-olds wont to do. So she rose. Her arms, sore from a day of training, strained themselves to the limit. Carrot started to shake herself, it was less scary when they were climbing at the base, but once they got off the ground, which shrunk at every climb, it paralysed her. Cermia noticed it too. She started speaking to keep Carrot focused, all the while hiding her laboured breath.
"You got some nerve blackmailing me. You know that?" Cermia said, bitterness dripping from her every word.
"I'm not nervous!" Carrot spoke, immediately defensive. "You're nervous!"
"No, I mean--fuck man, whatever," Carrot gasped at the curse, "oh, don't be such a baby."
"I'm not a baby," the girl pouted. Cermia spared a second to look at her sister, chuckling at her sister's expression. It was then Cermia wondered if they ever had a moment like this, to have something resembling a real conversation with one another.
The timing of Carrot's birth, right when the Archdemon war ended, left little time for familial bonding. By then, Cermia had been busy training and preparing for a war that ended sooner than everyone thought. But her relentless practice didn't cease but intensified. By the time Carrot was two, Cermia had been inducted into the Bladed-Arts society, winning tourney after tourney. When Carrot turned five, Cermia suffered a torrent of magical tutors. And to top it all off, she was also being groomed by her father to manage the family estates, the finances and all accompanying responsibilities. The rare moments she had to herself were spent escaping the castle and having her covert adventures in Tirel City. By then, little time remained, if at all, to spend with her sibling.
In truth, part of that distance was driven by a pang of envy gnawing at Cermia's heart. Carrot's life had seemed to be one of leisure. She was born during peacetime and spent her childhood reading about whatever interested her. Meanwhile, Cermia's childhood was a never-ending grind to perfection, toiling through blood, sweat and tears.
Despite all the busy work, her little sister still managed to be a constant fixture in her life. But their paths had only crossed during breakfast, dinner, and some social events. There was never enough time to forge any kind of bond.
But now seemed a good time to have a moment with her finally. On the wall, climbing away from home.
"So why'd you wanna come with me anyway? You don't really come out of the house often." Cermia asked. Her leg had found a small circular indent on the wall, and she carefully rested her weight on it.
"I was bored," Carrot answered, head resting on her big sister's shoulder.
Cermia chuckled, "you and me both. Tired of reading?"
"Mhm," Carrot nodded.
"How's training?" that struck a nerve; Cermia felt Carrot's face practically burrowing into her in shame, her arms tightening around Cermia like a vice. "Bad, huh?" the younger Ranka nodded.
"Couldn't make my fire. I tried super hard too." Tears had not welled up in Carrot's eyes, though it took a wet sheen.
"It's alright," Cermia comforted, "you're probably a--"
"-- a late bloomer?" Carrot interrupted, " Dad says that a lot, mom too, but sometimes. I don't believe them," there was silence, followed by a sigh. "Maybe marriage is all I'm good for."
"Don't say that," Cermia barked harshly, maybe too harshly, as she noticed Carrot had recoiled from her voice. "Look, how about I help you make your own fire? Would that make you happy?"
Carrot jolted in surprise, eyes as big as dinner plates, "but wouldn't you be busy?"
"I'll make time. How's next week from now sound?" It'd be a good excuse to duck from training that day, and teaching fire didn't seem all that hard. Cermia was able to pick up the basics when she was four, so it must be easy to learn. A good hour of teaching and Carrot will show enough results to justify the time spent, and a tutor-less Cermia could spend the rest of the day in sweet bliss.
Carrot was quivering with excitement, threatening to bring Cermia off-balance, "yes!" she yelled thrice.
"Hey, watch it!" Cermia admonished, her eyes darting to the edge of the wall above her, "we're nearly there; we wouldn't want to fall off now, do we?" The younger Ranka immediately stopped and apologised. Still, she was a bundle of energy waiting to explode, and Cermia braced herself for the imminent explosion once they reached the top.
One arm in hole, another leg in a crevasse. Hoist and heave. Over and over. Carrot's weight had begun taking its toll, her strength dwindling. The edge was tantalisingly close. Cermia could reach into it, all she needed was to---
Her foot slipped as she stretched for the edge, and her fingers gripped the wall deathly tight. Carrot shrieked in her shoulder, white as a ghost. A searing pain pulsed through her arms, the soreness had escalated into a more sinister sensation, but the threat of death forced Cermia to ignore it. With one hefty pull, as her body screamed in protest, her neurons alight with a cacophony of torment, she rose to the top with Carrot in tow.
The two flopped on the cobblestone floor, Carrot still holding on to her sister. She was breathing hard, even though Cermia did all the work, her stomach rapidly rising and descending with every gasp.
"You alright?" Cermia asked. Carrot nodded, "good. Get off." The younger Ranka untangled herself from her older sibling. She rose slowly, with her short legs trying to find balance. Their close brush of death and gripped her heart with fear, until it was washed away with relief, then excitement.
"So next week, you're going to train me?!" Carrot inquired, the mere prospect of attaining even a sliver of greatness filled her mind with wild fantasies. Cermia stared at Carrot, perplexed by her sister's rapid emotional rebound. The elder Ranka gave a slow, cautious nod, "So, what's the plan? When do we start? I'll get up extra early, I swear! Should I bring a sword or would a staff work? Oh, and what about my lucky charms—"
Cermia raised a hand, practically pleading for silence, "Don't you want to take in the view first?" Diche's tits let me catch my breath in silence!
That was enough to freeze Carrot, who turned her eyes to the city proper. Golden lights lit up the dark horizon, flickering like the very stars themselves. For an instant, she could feel the city's breath on her cheek, a cold welcome to a new world.
The metropolis before her was a sprawl, an eclectic seizure of a city, with its patchwork of districts still recovering from the crucible of war. Tirel's breath began to sing into Carrot's ear—the sound of carriage coaches and construction, the shouts of annoyed residents and the hymn of a choir, of the slurred singing of drunks and harsh barks of the city guard. Carrot listened carefully to the city's song, a symphony of contradictions. Opulence and destitution marred its melancholic tune, one that could be heard in its labyrinthine alleys and sweeping boulevards. Whether grand or destitute, each monument of stone and mortar with which housed Tirel's diverse inhabitants stood as a testament to their small and fleeting victories, for these structures were erected on bloodied soil, layered upon the remains of bygone worlds six times over, like towering tombstones to the past. The grace of the Saintly Queen Diene spared the city from succumbing to the fate of a seventh cycle of annihilation.
Carrot could trace the serpentine roads with her beady eyes, the capillaries of a living, breathing organism pulsating with the frenetic energy of a thousand dreams and a million heartaches. These were the connective tissue which united Tirel's diverse inhabitants under Ezera's banner.
Close to her home, where aristocracy held sway, a procession of opulent mansions paraded their splendour, each adorned with verdant gardens and imposing gates. Yet, none could rival the magnificence of the Ranka family castle, the sanctuary Carrot called home. The Ranka name was one steeped in antiquity, deeply woven into the fabric of Ezera's history, a name which once held royal weight, one heavier than Diene's. The nobles who owned these mansions were merely the nouveau riche . Compared to the upstart Mounes and Lemarcs, the Rankas, on the other hand, were old money.
And under the shadow of the glimmering aristocracy was Tirel's underbelly, housing the collection of rubble the commoners called a home. It was a festering wound of a district, which sang of the city's hidden pain. Recovery came slowly to this district, and it would be decades until the scars were buried with time. It was where dreams went to die, where Diche's children eked out a sad existence. Carrot could pick out shadowy figures who darted between the dark, peddling forbidden wares and whispered secrets. "Never go there," her mom had once told her, "for even the most virtuous souls could be seduced by the allure of power and vice in these squalid streets," she lectured. "Survival and desperation made for powerful temptresses."
But the sight which most captivated Carrot's eye was the gargantuan Tirel Castle. The imposing structure was a familiar sight, but now framed alongside the city proper, it had changed her sentiment. It was revolting, a grotesque fusion of divine architecture and royal hubris. She recalled in her readings that Tirel Castle was once a church, but the structure before her had been transmuted by the hands of ambitious men into a monument of power. Its ancient walls a witness to a hundred betrayals, each stone carrying the weight of centuries of whispered secrets.
Tirel Castle was perched atop a man-made mesa, towering over the city like a silent, watchful sentinel, an omnipresent deity. The plateau itself was a marvel of stone, its foundations riddled with holes from which massive aqueducts jutted out like the tentacles of a slumbering beast. It brought life-giving waters to the metropolis, but it served as a stark reminder of the city's reliance on the rulers of Tirel Castle.
Surrounding the mesa's base was a wall separating the boundary between inner and outer Tirel. There was a mass of shadows atop that wall, an army of patrol guards whose presence presented a warning to any onlookers - Here lies the domain of the holy, the chosen, and the powerful—trespass at your peril.
"Beautiful, ain't it?" Cermia's words broke Carrot's stupor. She stood over her like a smiling queen. She had recovered just enough to disguise how tired she was, "let's get down."
"Where are we going?" Carrot inquired. Cermia gestured at the squalid, ill-begotten district.
"Got some friends over there waiting for me." She answered.
"How do we get down?"
A flash of conflict blanketed Cermia's eyes, carrying Carrot for one climb was hard enough, but doing so repeatedly going down and then again going back home... I should've just left her there, fuck! I should've cut my losses and given up for today instead of climbing up here, arghh!!!
Wait, it's not too late. I can leave her in one of the watch towers and frame it as some childish exploration on her part. But shit, she's gonna rat me out to mom if that happens. Goddess... I have to go all in here, don't I?
A nervous smile cut into Cermia's face, "here, get on my back."