Arturri stood in glamourous contrast to the barren landscape of the Orphanage before him. His white hair was disheveled from his journey and sleepless night. Under his arm, he carried a small briefcase with whatever he could grab from his ex-home. He wore a suit in silver, the colour of the Dar Yi family and his no longer. Over that he wore a black cape embroidered with silver stitching, and black leather gloves.
It took everything in his power not to turn around and storm away, back to the Dar Yi gates to say one more thing about the injustice of it all - but he resisted. His magic had already been stripped from him. It had felt like an emptying, and he was left lonelier than he ever knew he could be. Like a child abandoned. Perhaps this was what they called them Orphans for.
All that was left now was his integrity and pragmatism, and those were true values of the Dar Yi in him that he would not surrender. He would find a solution to this crisis, and he would not lower himself to do it.
The Orphans took care to avoid opulence or anything that suggested their own personhood, preferring instead to wear their black veils and obscured their features from others. How they could tell each other apart, Arturri would soon have to find out. He assumed they must have actual faces beneath, though he could only speculate.
He had no intention of being there for long, mind. All the same, he eyed the entrance to the Orphanage before him. The gates depicted two large crowned figures through its metalwork in blackened iron, and a third figure in the middle symbolising the citizen. It would have been a hike to get up this high, and behind him was a grand view of Entithea. The structure itself was tucked away under the wing of the grand Church of Royals. The spire of the Church reached all the way to the roof of their world. A grand prison he faced.
From behind the gates a figure approached from mist. Like a spectre of death themselves, they were shrouded in black dress and veil. They opened the gates, splitting the middle figure in two.
“Welcome,” It was a voice like a phantom, “You are welcome inside. Come sit and we’ll get you food. I’ll take your name, and show you a new home.”
The Orphans were religious figures, and so to be spoken to so directly was strange to him. It struck him how trusting they must be to give lodge to literally any old stranger. How foolish. But all the same, he was at their mercy for now. He kept his chin up and his eyes forward, obeying with a clenched jaw.
The gate closed behind him.
She directed him to the mess hall. The dinner he was given was nothing but some bread, an odd meat he’d never had before and some hard cheese in a wedge that he could almost use to slice the bread with. It took a lot of chewing and patience. He didn’t have the patience. The bread was the highlight however, actually being soft and fresh. It was probably all he would have tonight, and he would have to learn to deal with that for now.
She took a seat across from him, and although he couldn’t see beyond the veil, he felt her staring at him, and felt unnerved.
“So what is your name, newcomer? I'm Nadira.”
“Da-…. Arturri. Just Arturri now, I suppose.” He squinted at the veil to see if he could pierce it. “Any other questions?”
She let out a sigh, throwing him off. “The Dar Yi? You must have been fancy, huh?”
Her voice, earlier so otherworldly, he could now tell was just that of a girl. And she was curious. He straightened himself up, feeling the atmosphere become more casual and deciding to combat it. He refused to be comfortable here. “I was respected, yes… although less than I once thought.” The dark memory of the last few days clouded his mind.
It was his first time speaking to an Orphan. Usually they would have to listen to them for special Church services perhaps, and those higher in the Dar Yi would deal with Diplomats, but conversing just wasn’t done. The Orphans were like stagehands to the Families. Things got done, and you weren't meant to see them.
“We aren’t meant to really press why you’re here.” She stated it as an invitation.
He let out a small laugh, without any humour in it. He considered the risks in telling her why he had been disowned. It had only been yesterday, and had come as such a shock to his nerves, he wasn’t sure if he could even verbalise the horror.
“I am innocent.” He stated.
“Oh of what?” She leaned forward with her elbows on the table.
“Someone is dead. And they believe it was me, but it wasn’t.”
“A murder! In the Dar Yi. By crown, what a story!” That it was or wasn’t his murder didn’t seem to matter much.
He carried on, “Obviously they didn’t want it to become one. But I’d love to meet the matron. Explain my situation. I am sure she’s only heard one side of this story. She can put me back.”
“Oh, best of luck on that front. I’m not sure how much help you think you’ll have from her, it seems like a Family matter… But good luck all the same! Now you’re finished eating, we must give you the tour.” She clapped her hands together.
He rose awkwardly as she marched on like someone in tourism. It didn’t seem like she wished him luck at all. In fact, it distressed him to know that convicts were sent to the Orphans. He had always found those deep black veils unsettling, and even as a child learning that they could truly be thieves and cutthroats had given him the creeps.
Yet it seemed, even living among those kinds of people, Orphans didn’t fear for their lives. He bitterly wondered what kind of life they were living anyways. He didn’t intend to devote his to the Royals as they had.
His tour was brief, and he was finally given the garments of the Orphan to wear. She guided the new tenant to their rooms and waited outside for them in the centre of the semi-circle of doors on the landing.
The room was simple, as he'd expected. Just a box with a bed and an empty wooden dresser with a mirror above it. He was to dispose of his old outfit, but it was so fine, he couldn’t bring himself to, and so hid it in his drawers. Especially as he intended to wear it again.
He put the Orphan’s gear on, feeling that absence in his heart keenly. He hated that it was comfortable fabric for the robes. But the hood and veil was a strange experience. It was as if he was in a different room to the objects he looked at. Things seemed a little darker to look on but much less than he had expected.
Not one to keep people waiting, he came out.
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“How do you manage the veil?” He asked, feeling kind of like he was lost in blankets.
She snorted at his fumbling, which irritated him. He was in no mood to be made a fool.
“Well, you’ll get used to it," she said, "If you have to go to Dar Yi districts, you don’t want to attract the wrong sort of attention from people who knew you. It creates necessary distance. Anonymity. We don’t have to wear the facial veil inside the Orphanage, but outside, we recommend it."
“You’re still wearing yours!”
“Oh am I? Sorry, I forget.” She removed it. She really was just a girl. A young woman if you were being generous, but her mannerisms didn’t indicate any level of maturity. Her plain appearance wasn’t easy to place to a particular House, and it was the first time he had seen an Orphan without the veil. All the same, her laughing at him had created a level of animosity towards her.
He became curious in his annoyance. “What family were you?” As if her past might give her a box that he could put her in.
She faltered visibly, shoulders tensing up a little, “I don’t think I ever had one.”
“So you were born between Orphans?”
“No, I was brought here.”
Disappointing. He waved it off. It made a kind of sense to him that someone with nothing to form their backbone would become rude and callous. “Strange. That’s sad for you. You’ve truly never known the joy of Family.”
She was quiet for a second and turned a bit red, but Arturri hardly noticed. He had discovered what he wanted to know and became bored of her, already walking beyond to continue his personal mission. He refused to stay in this hole for long. “Where can I find the Matron?”
He was directed, reluctantly, up the tower to her office.
--
Later that day, Daress and Nadira met in the library.
Nadira was in a fury. “This guy comes in thinking he’s so superior. Can you believe the nerve?”
The Library really was Daress’ favourite place. Rolls of scrolls and tomes of parchment waited amongst the shelves. Each was carved from unique materials depending on the subject matter and age of its residents. “It was very rude,” Daress agreed, but in a quieter voice.
Daress felt like the place was endless, and her gaze wandered around it. It was an impressive feat of the cumulation of knowledge. The shelves went up vertically, up to some of the oldest parts of the city. Staircases spiraling the perimeter of the Library would go up more than 10 flights. At the base of the Library was constant construction to expand, as more people came in with books and new editions. It would take a lifetime to read everything, and it would be a lifetime well spent.
“He’s no better than me now, so he can suck it," Nadira was etching a rude symbol into the desk. A few readers from shelves nearby glanced over at the veiled figures curiously. Daress sighed.
Daress had picked this spot for working on the Diplomat applications with Nadira when she had finished with her task of induction of the Homeless. It was a floor nearest the Orphanage, not far from the top. They had taken a seat by the balcony to overlook the tops of the heads of visitors as they browsed below.
Getting Nadira to spend time in the library with her was rarely ever managed. But Daress tried not to let that get to her. Rather than think her friend didn't share interests with her, she worried that maybe she was just forcing them on her. That wouldn't be fair.
"Let’s take your mind off it. We have a lot of work to do with these applications," Daress suggested.
As a result of her time spent here she knew quite a few of the Sedralogue Family by eavesdropping, as their green cloaks often filled the space. It makes sense, as they were so interested in Wisdom to turn to the older tomes in the higher levels and learn what the ancestors learned. Still, as an Orphan, Daress kept her shroud over her face, and none spoke to her. She saw one of them pick up a book she liked, and resisted the urge to go and talk to them about it.
“You think there will be many Arturris if I’m a Diplomat?”
“Well, probably… I mean, I would expect some problems. There’s so many kinds of people.”
Nadira grumbled but they returned to the task at hand for a while. The application was to answer a number of philosophical arguments and understand the nuances of hypothetical situations. Their ability to both soothe both sides while making a decision for the good of all was imperative to the successful and well-remembered Diplomat. Before the Diplomatic role taken by the Orphanage, Daress couldn’t imagine the chaos that the Entithea must have experienced.
Nadira put her shrouded head on the desk, “This is so boring, Daress, what have you done to me,” she lamented.
Daress just smiled and giggled at her friend’s dramatics, “It’s not that bad. I think there’s a lot of interesting scenarios between the Families and all.”
“Too many scenarios,” Nadira droned.
There was an inner thought that Daress had but rarely expressed, and it surfaced then. “What if there weren’t Families at all, and people were just whoever they wanted to be?”
Nadira shook her head, “People are already who they want to be, nothing about being in a Family means you can’t be yourself.”
Daress smiled, finding Nadira’s certainty a reassurance. “You’re probably right.”
“It’s the Orphans who can’t be themselves. We can’t be anyone at all!”
“Oh Nadira,” she chided, “I think you are evidence to the contrary. But out of curiosity, what would you be if you could choose a family for yourself?”
Nadira thought for a bit, always fond of this game. She looked out at the six banners around the library to signify the tomes related to each Family.
Bheorse, Kopkin, Sedralogue, Sot, Eazu and Dar Yi.
Red, gold, green, purple, blue, and silver... It was enough to make Daress' head swim.
“I still think I’d be a Sot! They just seem like so much fun, there’s so much freedom there.”
“I think they would suit you,” Daress agreed, glancing over to the purple banner that the Sot’s represented. “Frank and Courageous.”
Nadira grinned, “What about you? I mean, writing off your old Family of course.”
Daress wasn’t upset by the reminder. It had been a few years since the incident with her own family. She had been raised up a Kopkin surrounded by gold. But in calling her a liar she had violated their motto, and in being ‘caught’ for a crime she had not been prudent.
The Kopkins were not worth her time. So instead she looked out at the Library around her. “I don’t think I’d pick a different family. I’d stay an Orphan. This is where I want to be. I don’t mind being invisible, not like you do. I enjoy the peace. And we get to keep everyone happy. We help those who need it.”
The stranger who had taken out the book she had read put it back, losing interest, and moved away. It made Daress feel sad.
“What a cop-out answer!” Nadira laughed, and Daress laughed too.
Had she been honest? Maybe that part of her Kopkin nature had never left her. Or maybe it was a lie. A nice lie, but a lonely one. She wasn't sure what she really felt. She didn't ever let her mind rest on the topic for long.
After an hour of filling in the paper and discussing the various diplomatic thought experiments, Nadira decided to go home to sleep. She didn’t seem nearly as interested as Daress, who was happy to let her go and get some rest. “I’ll just stay for a little longer. I have a few books I was reading, and I’m not tired yet,” Daress explained.
Once Daress was left alone, she gathered her papers and went to the bookshelves where she had been reading about various flowers and botany that had existed on the surface. She had just finished that one, so she moved along the shelves to another.
This shelf had a darker tone, and some dusty books along it. She picked up one that seemed like it hadn’t been read in a long time and brushed it down out of respect.
'Banishments'. How curious, she thought, what use would that be to anyone? She supposed any questions she had would have been answered by the book, so she took it to her seat and opened it up to the foreword.
‘There may come a time,” the author wrote, “Where a spirit kept within these caves may become malignant, and in that case it is imperative that we manage the situation very carefully, for a spirit like that can become excessively dangerous if left unmitigated. In this book, I will describe the signs of a malignant spirit, and the ways it which they may be captured from their host and destroyed. For if we intend to trap the souls of all in our caves for our purposes, there are bound to be evils occasionally trapped with them, and like a surgeon it is our duty as the leaders of our new communities to cut out such tumours that would cannibalise our way of life.”
Daress got shivers at the passage.
She had never heard of such a thing, and the thought disturbed her. That this book hasn’t been used in ages at least gave her some peace of mind. If it hadn’t been needed then things must be less dangerous than the author suggested. Curious of the history, she checked again for the author’s name, but it wasn’t present. It seemed to have been written anonymously.
And what interesting phrasing, ‘to trap the souls’, sounded so negative! It painted things in a very different light for her, and the world seemed even darker than before.
She didn’t wish to put it back though. Not yet. Daress would keep it with her for some time.