Nihilus

Excerpts from the diary of Nihilus Stoneheart
63rd day of Summer, my 8th year birthday:

Mom gave me a diary to write in. Dad was furious, saying I cry enough as it is. Mom convinced him that I’ll make less of a ‘public display’ if I have somewhere to write my thoughts down. Dad grumbled but agreed, although he kept giving me disappointed looks. If only he stopped shouting so much. He never shouts at little brother, even though he still hasn’t learned to write and I did years ago.  1st day of Fall, my 9th year:

As is Stoneheart tradition, Dad took me out with him on a hunt in the forest on the first day of Fall. I didn’t want to hunt, but he said the oldest son must. He wanted me to shoot a deer. The deer hadn’t done anything to me. I threw the bow down and ran. Now I’m stuck in my room. He posted two guards in front of my door, to keep me in.  

13th day of Winter, my 10th year:

 Uncle Arcas showed me something really cool; he made an image of me appear in the middle of the room! I told him I wanted to learn that too. Dad heard that. He doesn’t like Uncle Arcas. He says “magic tricks are for people too weak to swing a warhammer.” Uncle Arcas was made court wizard by grandfather a long time ago, which puts him at the bottom of the list of all dad’s brothers. Uncle Arcas doesn’t care though; he’s always smiling.

5th day of Spring, my 11th year:

Dad is putting me through weapons training daily now. I’m supposed to learn from Darix, his finest retainer. Darix isn’t a mean person, but he’s really eager to impress my dad. Which means I’m bruised and cut every day. I fell into manure today too, but Uncle Arcas came to rescue me. He mumbled something and the manure just disappeared. He whispered to me that he’ll show me how when Dad isn’t looking or listening.

62nd day of Summer, my 11th year:

It was a very intense day. An important delegation from a neighboring clan came over for a cease-fire with possible trade agreements. My brother and I both got decked out in fancy clothing with the clan sigil. Unfortunately, tradition holds that the children of the clan patriarchs spar to show prowess and mutual respect in combat. He could’ve just let my brother Marius go and impress everyone, but he just keeps insisting on making me wave a longsword around. The son from the other clan, Hadir, quickly figured out that I couldn’t do much past basic parrying because I could barely swing the stupid sword. He got me on the ground, and I panicked. I used something Uncle Arcas showed me to blind Hadir with lights and flashes. He stumbled and I got a leg sweep in. I got up quickly, kicked Hadir’s weapon aside and pinned him down. My first victory! Dad should be so proud, right? Wrong. He was so furious he was bright red and spittle was blanketing the hall in a fine mist. He screamed “NO SON OF MINE WILL WIN A BATTLE AGAINST AN HONORABLE FOE THROUGH CHEAP PARLOR TRICKS!” He actually had me dragged out of the hall by the guards. They mumbled “sorry” to me whilst dragging me, but it didn’t sting any less for it. I don’t think I’ll be getting any birthday gifts tomorrow.

7th day of Winter, my 12th year:

Darix and mom teamed up to convince dad that it’s no use trying to make me wield heavier weapons. It took them the better part of the day, but eventually they convinced him to have the smiths forge me a lighter blade called a ‘rapier’. Dad was very silent after that, and became seriously drunk that night.

8th day of Spring, my 12th year:

Uncle Arcas had an amazing gift for me: my very own spellbook! He promised to do his best and try and help me fill it up. We had to be cautious though, as Dad would certainly disapprove. We found a good place to hide the book behind the forge’s smelter; you can get there from a mostly obscured pathway leading to a servants’ side entrance to the keep. Unfortunately, we found out later that at least one of the servants thought he could get on my father’s good side by telling on us. We vehemently denied the existence of any spellbook, and he failed to find our hiding spot. It didn’t stop him from striking Uncle Arcas to the ground in front of half the court though, all the while screaming something about “poisoning his son against his wishes”. I feel horrible for what happened to Uncle Arcas. He told me not to worry about it. I still do. Trying to abide by Dad’s wishes will get me hurt, trying to fulfill mine will get others hurt.

21st day of Summer, my 12th year:

Darix has, over the past few months, continually remarked that I’m significantly better with the rapier than I ever was with the clan’s traditional weapons. It matters not to Father though. I’ve stopped calling him “Dad”, as he’s trying to raise a different child than I am. I wish I was born the child he wanted, so I wouldn’t have to be a perpetual embarrassment to the clan. Darix is not giving up on me, however; I’m not sure if it’s prideful stubbornness on his behalf, or if he’s trying to prepare me as best he can when I inevitably come to blows with someone, but despite my distaste for combat it’s nice to be mentored in a way that doesn’t invoke the wrath of Father. Darix has handed me a shield, so I can “actually use the rapier instead of only narrowly blocking strike after strike with it.” In all these years it seems they still don’t want to come to terms with the fact that I don’t want to strike people if I can avoid it.

73rd day of Summer, my 13th year:

Our neighboring clan came over for alliance negotiations, followed by a grand feast. As usual, dueling between the nobles’ sons was part of the tradition. Father was full of bluster after successfully forging an alliance, and pitted Marius against all three of the other clan leader’s sons. I can’t say I’m happy that Father only seems to value Marius, but I cannot deny my brother shone brightly as the superb duelist he is. I, of course, was completely ignored. Not that I wanted to fight anyway. I just wish Father could’ve finally let that go, now that he had his champion in Marius. Unfortunately, his drunken state compelled him to remark to me that “having our guests watch weapons come down on your shield for fifteen minutes is not an honorable display”, in front of the whole ensemble of guests. You’d think being able to fend off blows for fifteen straight minutes was a good thing. Is it his mission to make every day a reminder that I am a failure to my clan?

17th day of Fall, my 13th year:

 Under Uncle Arcas’ careful guidance, and far away from the keep, I managed to freeze a deer in full sprint for a solid minute. Uncle was so proud! I wish I could show this to Mom, as I know she would be proud too. If father sees her praising me for my studies of magic, however, she’ll bear the full force of his wrath…

82nd day of Summer, my 14th year:

 One of my other uncles, Artheres, who had a small keep of his own, met his end yesterday while confronting a Bugbear raiding party in his tunnels. His servants preserved the body and are going to bring it here, so Uncle Artheres can be buried in the crypt with the rest of the honorable clan members. As with every other situation that is steeped in clan tradition, I’m doing it wrong. As the eldest son, I’m supposed to wear my grandfather’s old ceremonial plate mail armor with the clan sigil to the funeral. But after donning it today I could hardly stand at all, let alone maintain posture, salute with weapons raised, or perform any of the other traditional burial rites. There was a time where Father would simply be furious and try to make me wear the armor by sheer force of will alone, but his weary eyes only showed embarrassment, and betrayed that he is giving up on me altogether. Mom did all she could to salvage the situation, telling Father that the blacksmiths would have enough time to make me a lighter, but still regal piece of armor, like a breastplate, and make sure it would have the sigil on it, provided they worked night and day. He did not offer any resistance to her suggestions, which somehow stung more than getting yelled and spat at.

5th day of Fall, my 14th year:

Today was the day of the burial. About a week ago Father decided that someone had to wear grandfather’s armor either way, so the honor went to Marius. He also got to carry grandfather’s tower shield, as I was unable to hold it straight and maintain posture for extended periods of time, even with the custom-made breast plate. Father had the smiths fashion a buckler with the clan sigil painted on it for me. It was nothing glorious compared to all the ornate kite and tower shields displayed at the funeral, but it was still better than not being able to represent the clan at all. I was heavily embarrassed shortly after, as Father had Marius do rites usually reserved for the eldest son. I could not walk away without dishonoring Uncle Artheres, and was forced to watch the whole thing. There was no doubt anyone’s mind anymore that Father now regarded me as the second son.

22nd day of Winter, my 14th year:

 A peasant boy laughed at me when I dropped my rapier in a sparring session with a nobleman’s 10-year old son. Father commanded me to beat some respect into the boy. I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t the boy’s fault that Father’s continual practice of publicly shaming me has set a precedent I will probably never escape within the halls of this mountain. I simply walked away, head held low. Father was incensed, and had the boy flogged and me locked up in my room again. I’m not allowed to attend Mom’s birthday banquet.

78th day of Summer, my 15th year:

 Father has been singing Marius’ praises for several months now, unabated. He brings Marius to all court affairs, and takes his counsel on many things. For all intents and purposes he treats Marius as his first son, which goes very strongly against clan traditions. Marius revels in it, of course, but I can’t really be mad at him for surpassing me; he does have all the qualities Father looks for in a son. Somehow nobody seems to call Father out on skirting the ancient rules of our clan, or perhaps they just never do so when I’m around. Darix has been reassigned to full-time training of Marius. When he broke the news to me, he gave me the oddest look. I couldn’t tell if it was relief for being able to put his talents as a trainer to better use, or pity because he too was forced to drive home how far I’ve fallen. The upside of now being the mostly ignored son is that I finally have time to practice the arcane arts with Uncle Arcas uninterrupted. 11th day of Winter, my 15th year: Father parades Marius around like a trophy all the time now. He has Marius walk around in grandfather’s armor almost daily. It still stings, but the wound is not as fresh anymore. I know I can never make Father truly happy. I just hope that, in time, I can prove to the rest of the clan that I’m not completely worthless. I must find my own way to make the clan proud.

2nd day of Spring, my 15th year:

 Father delivered another insult to me today: he hung my banner to the left side of his, and Marius’ banner to the right. Ever since I was born, mine hung on the right, overlooking the Great Hall together with him. No more the case, it seems.

4th day of Fall, my 16th year:

Uncle Arcas taught me what ritual spellcasting is. I’m very excited to finally become good at something, even if it doesn’t do the clan’s honor justice. We’ve moved up from practicing in secret to practicing in my uncle’s quarters. The only way Father has shown any sign of caring is by no longer talking to Uncle Arcas.

42nd day of Winter, my 16th year:

Mom came into my chambers in the middle of the night to tell me how she overheard dad consulting with his inner circle on how to bypass seniority law, disown me and make Marius the rightful heir. She begged me to do something to appease Father, because their solution seems to point to me being exiled and unable to return home. He might go as far as to erase my name from the family genealogy based on false accusations; anything to get Marius to carry on his legacy. What did I ever do so wrong to Father? I didn’t have any say in how I was created...

14th day of Spring, my 16th year:

 For the last few months I’ve been running from the prospect of begging my Father for a scrap of recognition. Mom has been reminding me over and over again, tears streaming down her cheeks when nobody else was looking. I could no longer postpone this. I begged Father to let me prove my worth to the clan. He was silent for a long time, seemingly upset. Then he told me about how he heard of the world of Hardholme, and how I could prove my worth by establishing the noble Stoneheart name there. He said not to worry about the lottery, he’d make sure I’d get in. I was to consider it “the best 17th birthday gift a disappointment like myself could’ve wished for.” He was smiling when I walked out, but somehow I don’t feel like it was because he was happy for my commitment.

53rd day of Spring, my 16th year:

 My escort was ready. I’m sure if Marius would be going somewhere it’d be five times as big. Father put his hand on my shoulder and said “We will come see what you have made of our clan name in the new world someday, and I expect to see you standing there proudly, in clan armor, peasants defaulting to our glory. Don’t disappoint me again.” Mom was crying. She gifted me some fresh parchment, quality ink and feather pens. Marius just stood there stoically next to Father, like we weren’t even related. Darix brought me my buckler with the painted sigil, restored to pristine condition, and a sharpened rapier. While on the road, I noticed Uncle Arcas managed to slip a small package between my belongings, accompanied by a letter: Wear this necklace on your person wherever you’re going. It served me greatly for many years in my pursuit of the arcane arts. You’ll need it more than I do now. It has been my great honor teaching you. Your father might not treat you like kin, but you are a son to me. …My escort made faces at me while I was bawling bitter tears.

42nd day of Summer, my 16th year:

I’ve reached the Center for Science and Magic, only three weeks before my 17th birthday. To my dismay, the word around town is nobody ever comes back from the journey to Hardholme. Did Father know? Was this his plan all along? Instead of exiling me, having me become lost on a ‘glorious adventure?’ Or does he actually want to have a foothold in Hardholme, but doesn’t want to sacrifice his precious Marius? I can’t turn around to ask, I’d be exiled on the spot for cowardice. There’s no way but forward now...