Sebastian Vael

Sebastian ignored the few calls of his name that echoed off the cold stone that fabricated the elaborate chantry. He had debated just telling his father to piss off. He’s the one who put me here, and NOW he wants to see me? He can just wait, like he’s making me do………bastard.

His train of thought was interrupted by a firm, deep voice that bellowed throughout the halls. “SEBASTIAN!” Magnus Vael was growing impatient of his insolence and was feeling all the more reassured of his decision to put his wayward child in the chantry.

Sebastian begrudgingly pulled himself out of his desk chair and marched over to his father with heavy steps. “What?” Sebastian was beyond irritated at this point, refusing to look him in the eye. “You will not take that tone of voice with me, Sebastian!” His father’s timbre was more of a warning than anything else. Sebastian remained quiet, festering in his resentment while his father continued. “You know why we put you here, Sebastian, and yet we are still getting reports from our scouts seeing you frequent the taverns and whore houses. This is unacceptable. I have spoken with the Grand Cleric, and we are in agreement your lack of commitment to the chantry is…disappointing.”

There it was. That word: disappointing. Like his whole existence felt. His parents had the heir and the spare, and he was left in the cold. Useless, meaningless. He would never be prince. Although he knew this was his fate, he refused to accept it without a fight. Whores, booze, whatever he could do to bring shame to his family. What did it matter? He wasn’t going to be prince; his name was all but a reminder of the power he would never know, to be dangled in front of his face for the rest of his days. If he was going to be denied what his brother was handed so freely, reputation was hollow to him.

“You will confirm your faith in the Maker. I have no doubt you have knowledge of the importance surrounding the Sacred Ashes. The Grand Cleric and I—“ Magnus attempted to quell his sudden, furious cough with little success. His raspy wheeze was concerning enough for Sebastian to take notice. His father’s condition was getting worse, and coupled with his age, he saw Magnus abdicating the throne to his brother, Corbinian, in the near future. Sebastian’s eyes finally met his father’s grey, steeled ones.

Magnus continued, his tone still remaining firm. “The Grand Cleric and I think it would be best for you to show your faith through searching for the ashes. Only through seeking in His name are you able to find peace within yourself.” Sebastian’s hands clenched in anger, his knuckles growing white from the strain. How DARE he send me off on some foolish holy treasure hunt?!

“Whatever impossible dream you’re trying to live vicariously through me won’t add any more years to your reign, old man!” Harsh words, almost too harsh. Sebastian ignored the slight pang of guilt that sprouted from his outburst. Magnus retaliated, temper rising from his son’s disrespectful remark. “Do you not think I am aware of this, Sebastian?!” He stepped closer, eyes boring into his child with an unmistakable reproach that only a father could impose. “You may not have to like it, but you WILL assume this task, for when my time ends and you are still the failure you’ve allowed yourself to be, the only one who will be left with that realization is you. And may the Maker help you when you have to live in your own regret for the rest of your unfilled life.” Magnus paused, letting his words sink in to that thick headed skull that belonged to his shameless son. He then turned on his heel sharply, leaving Sebastian to reflect on his newly assigned duty.

Sebastian’s lip curled, incensed and bitter. However, he could not deny there was truth in his father’s abrasive words. With a quickened pace, Sebastian retreated to his room and began packing.