Role

Chapter 11

"In service there is honor." So said the inscription on the Chrenzhvo family crest.
For over four hundred years, generations of Chrenzhvos lived and worked as the
trusted servants of the Archmage of the Tower of Sorcery, attending to her needs both
personal and professional. The first born of each generation was raised to know his or
her duty, stretching back to Chrenzhvo, the first of her ancestors, who journied thera
and was so captivated by the wonders of the High Tower that he pledged himself and his progeny
to its service. Not slaves, but willing servants, aides for all things, all matters.
There was little aptitude for magic in their line, as the fruitless attempts of generation
after generation of offspring tried and failed to learn what all the others around them
took for granted. But even so, there was a satisfaction and a dignity in faithful and
devoted service to such great and powerful beings.

Or so they thought. One day, Susubienko's father, the current servant of the Archmage,
fell and struck his head while organizing a closet in the Archmage's study. He remained there,
unconcious, for several hours. When he woke it was to the quiet talk of voices right outside.
It was the Archmage with his four lieutenants and the librarian, talking. As he was about to
announce his presence and excuse himself - and seek a balm for his throbbing head - he heard
his own name spoken. Curious, and feeling a bit guilty, he stood motionless and listened:
"Krystoff's daughter is coming of age, she will have to undergo the process soon," said the
Archmage. "I can do it this time, I enjoy it and it has been a while." The master necromancer.
"Very well." The Archmage. "Do you think she has the talent?" The master shifter. "Likely.
So far all of the women and perhaps half the men have had it" responded the Archmage. "Though
none has had anything that appeared too powerful, so it's no loss to us." The master invoker
chimed in "Even I am amazed how long we have managed to keep them in the dark, usually such
things find a way out. I would be devastated if they did though, that family has an almost
magical knack for getting gel stains out of my robes and putting the creases in just right."
Group laughter. "Yes, well, tomorrow, take the girl and burn away her burgeoning talent. We
will then have another of their short lifetime's worth of slave service. Maybe this one will
even look more human, without those ugly beaks. It is always so difficult to look past them
when I take them to bed, even if they are face down. Ah well, we shall see."
With that the master mages left, on to their business. Krystoff could barely stand. He
shook with anger, the massive, centuries long betrayal more than he could comprehend, let
alone accept. Thoughts raced through his mind, one after the other, elusive, ideas of violence,
acts of revenge, sadness, history, all a whirl of color and rage. One thought surged up stronger