Self-Knowledge

Self-Knowledge 

by Simon W.  

"Let it fall to the Delfestrae to weigh pros and cons of what we know to be right"

The words of the First of House Kaelin echoed in Ithil’lyn’s head. They were finally home from the August gathering, away from the dust and chaos of Port Frey. Here in a little clearing in the forest they had made themselves a haven where no politics, Effendal or Port Frey, could touch them unless they allowed it.

Racks for drying herbs, a shed for curing wood, an entire workbench for tanning and curing leather, and a pile of stones made the space look exactly like what it was – a place where work was done. The only splash of color about the place was a small rosebush that Ithil’lyn had transplanted last autumn when they had found the clearing and decided to claim it. The red stood in stark contrast to the greens and browns they were surrounded by.

“I suppose I’m meant to feel ashamed,” Ithil’lyn said quietly to themselves. “My deepest apologies to the Perillinen but I’m not. The next time I do something without weighing the pros and cons will be… the second time.”

Ithil’lyn walked past all their various workspaces to a new set up. It was a stone and some wooden practice blades. They started going through a series of motions, warming up. They didn’t know if they had ever known how to wield weapons for anything other than hunting in their first life but when they had been convinced that the entirety of Port Frey wanted to kill Cecil, they decided that it was time to learn. The basics seemed to come almost naturally which made them think that someone had taught them this before. Blast this foggy memory!

Ithil’lyn practiced until sundown and then went to clean up in the small stream that burbled through the back of the clearing. While there they pondered all that had happened at the gathering although really there were only two things that stood out with perfect clarity. There was the trial and there was the name.

The trial had been… stress and drama and probably had aged Ithil’lyn by at least a hundred years. They were not entirely certain what the rest of Port Frey thought of the outcome. But it had suited them just fine. They were not interested in either executing or banishing fellow Effendal and feeling like either option had been on the table had been extremely uncomfortable. The sense of needing to circle around and defend one another was very strong. Strong enough that Ithil’lyn knew it had been instilled in childhood even if they had no specific memory of the lessons that imparted that knowledge.

The name would take getting used to. No, the name would be familiar in a few weeks. Vesryn’s absence would hurt for years. Ithil’lyn didn’t know why he felt the need to explore the death realms, but curiosity was certainly something they understood. Ithil’lyn just wished that he could have satisfied his curiosity in some way that was less… permanent. Still, he’d given them a gift and they were not going to return it.

Standing in the pale light of the half-moon, Ithil’lyn looked out to the forest. “Gods of the Old Ways, hear me. I have been renamed with the Ferryman Poppet’s power at the request of my friend, Vesryn, who now travels the death realms. I am Ithil’lyn, the Eviscerating Bloodstorm, of House Delfestrae”

They walked back to their work area from the stream. Tomorrow at dawn there would be more tasks to do. But for now they would sleep knowing that the Gods knew their name and that they knew exactly who they were for the first time in a long time.