Role

Chapter 6

"She requires you to carve her into this world."

Vlalkon sat in the Black Sect's hall and thought on his discussion within
the Gallery of the Muses.

His hall, now.

Perhaps the most outwardly visible change in his situation to the world at
large. No doubt many thought it was the most important, and would continue
to do so even if they had been privvy to his conversation with Gaspare
Gnazzo.

They would be wrong, of course. They would not understand. His situation in
regards to the Empire had just become vastly more fortuitous, as well as
vastly more dangerous. Vlalkon had little to no interest in the politics of
the palace, but he was now armed with some of the finest tools he could
have hoped for in pursuing his goals. Many had cluttered the path before
him, both those from within and without the sect. There would be far fewer,
now.

Carve her into this world.

He had gained a far greater thing this day. There was little room for hope
in fatalism. He knew his eventual fate. He knew the pact he had struck.

Yet that stark revelation; she was not truely gone, for he remembered her.
Remembered her laugh, her joy at the small things. Her dismay when his
crueler nature would be most apparent. Every memory a dagger between the
ribs and a fire to the soul, as vivid and stark as if it had been hours and
not years.

Carve her into this world.

He would be gone one day. The world would seek to forget him. He would
ensure that the memory of him is one they would rather consign to the past.

But he would not let them forget her. She would live on passed his end. He
would carve her memory so deeply into the world that no matter how hard
they would try she would live on for generations.

It was the most he could do.

The least she was owed.

And more than the world deserved.