Wayward

[Ambigue]

I will begin my chronicle with a short introduction.

I am named Artemisia, beloved of Siamorphe, and an honorary Knight of the Silent March. I have the great honor of being the eldest daughter of Her Ladyship Moira Belaqua, Margravine of The Silent March. I also hold the dubious honor of being the last child of The False Knight Rey Angelus Bibliophilius, of many places, but originally of Wharftown.

There is more to me than my family history, of course, but it is family history that has brought me to the strange, deathless isle of Arelith in the first place. History and hope.

For those unfamiliar with the nuances of nobility (and, really, you should learn), my position among my kin is very much a precarious one. Though I am my mother's eldest child, I was fathered by an unworthy man who's honor and alleged nobility were shown to be dubious at best. Her second marriage was, and remains, much happier, and has produced several worthy children. I cannot inherit the title of Margravine, but my age and favored status with the goddess Siamorphe could produce an unwelcome complication were I to remain in the March. Count Florian, my mother's second husband, has been not been unkind to me, and for that I am grateful, but we all know how messy succession can get. I would need to find my own way in the court of another Lord.

My mother, in her wisdom, researched my father's alleged origins and found there to be some truth in his stories. House Bibliophilius did hold a position of power over a port town on a distant island called Arelith. Perhaps, among them, she had hoped, I could find a position of honor suitable to the daughter of a Margravine. With her blessing, an escort of two loyal Knights, and generous amount of Coin, I made my way to Cordor to make contact with my distant kin.

What I would find on my arrival would shake me terribly.

Now, before I continue on with my own story, I feel it cogent to discuss the matter of my father.

In truth, I know little about the man. For the first five years of my life, he appeared as a strong, young knight. He was little involved in my upbringing, spending most of his time patrolling the distant reaches of the March at my mother's behest. During his short and intense visits to Belaquine Hall, he would regale me with stories of his knightly father Aristotlus. They made a great impression on me and I soon declared I would be a great knight as well.

One day, I was brought to meet an aged old man who was lying in my mother's bed. She stood over, as heavy and furious as a thundercloud. I was told that this man was my father. I did not believe him at first, but after some conversation with him, I came to understand that something truly terrible had happened. My mother would not speak to him, remaining silent and angry. His story, as best as I can remember, goes thusly:

Rey was a being of uncertain paternity who was adopted by the hero Aristotlus Bibliophilius and his wife. He was accepted among the family without much question and got along admirably enough with his adoptive brother and sister. He was a strange thing, never staying in the same form from day to day. At first he would turn into a great black cat or a bear, but as time went on, he would take more and more exotic forms. He grew into an arrogant, selfish young man. He served on the guard of Cordor, took a lover he valued greatly, and tried to build a relatively normal life for himself. But things soured on him.

His lover vanished, banished by Vetinari, he thought. Grief at her loss and fury over the passing of his father eventually drove him away from the island. He did not say what happened to him over the many, many decades since. He intimated that he mostly pursued lovers of various sorts, sometimes as a human, elf, hin, or some monstrous thing. Sometimes as a man or as a woman. His formlessness was a source of great power for him, but he eventually found that his twisted life offered no comfort.

Seeking to regain some measure of self-respect, he tried to become worthy of the heroic father he had adored once, long ago. Of course, even this noble goal was pursued with the same selfish dishonesty he had displayed throughout the rest of his life.