Once upon a time, a long time ago, there had been no Lord Ambrose Vi Gurdia.
There had only been little Ambrose Gardi.
Ambrose Gardi, son of the useless, penniless, weak Baron Gardi.
Once upon a time little Ambrose had loved his father, adored him.
Little Ambrose loved the sweet, gentle way his father always had with every single person he talked to - or the way he was never quick to anger - always choosing to be good humored in the face any adversity.
But, over time, as he grew - Ambrose had come to understand, that his gentle, scatter-brained father had once commanded a sizable family fortune in the Imperial capital. He learned that Baron Gardi had eventually lost the entirety of that fortune - becoming embroiled in schemes of the great houses - being outmaneuvered by others - until the family fortune was reduced to a pauper's hoard - and exiled to the distant border town of Kalaghutta.
Gradually, as he understood, little Ambrose Gardi came to hate his father.
He came to hate his gentle understanding - which was so easily taken advantage. He came to despise his father's charitable nature - which so often saw him made a fool.
His own future uncertain, Ambrose started to take his pleasures in the simple things in life - bullying the weak - assaulting the defenseless. By the time little Ambrose became a man, he was a thug of exceeding reputation - vicious and venal in equal order.
He was destined, like his father, to a pauper's grave - but he was determined to have fun getting there.
Ambrose shook his head thinking back on what he was like back then. He'd been pathetic..
But that was when he met the Master. The man who would change the trajectory of his life - so dramatically - that even as a child he could never imagine.
When he'd first met the Master - he hadn't thought much of him. He'd seemed like a weak old man in the wrong part of town. Weakness was one quality Ambrose had come to loathe. He'd attempted, with his little gang of toughs to teach the old man a lesson.. but it was Ambrose who ended up learning a lesson instead.
A lesson - on the difference between seeming weak and being truly powerful.
That.. had been an unpleasant day.
That had been a very unpleasant day.
Ambrose still felt an unconscious shudder when his his thoughts drifted to that day. How his master had taught him then was like a white hot memory he couldn't bare to let his mind dwell on. All these years after, he still woke sobbing from dreams that he was back there in that alleyway..
But Master hadn't ended him then. Master had seen seen value in Ambrose. Master had looked at vicious little Ambrose Gardi and he'd seen a tool he could put to use.
He'd shown Ambrose then - the size of the world. The world beyond the gutters and streets - outside the walls of Kalaghutta - outside the bounds of the Imperium. The scale of it.
His Master had given Ambrose a seed - a taste of the power he could one day have - if he could prove a worthy tool to master - if he could be of use.
With just that little taste - that fraction of his Master's powers -Ambrose had climbed his way out of the gutter.
He'd gone from street tough to the one figure every criminal and scum on the streets of Kalaghutta answered to. He'd gone farther, acquiring a noble house in his own name, going from an underground power to a real player in the game of the great houses.
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Soon enough, he would come to control all of this little imperium - so he could lay it at the feet of his Master.
...
When he'd first felt the twinge at the edge of his mind he'd felt alarm and fear.
He knew his drones were being attacked.
He had reason to fear. He had a very troublesome adversary in his dungeon.
It had been a mission from his master - to intercept a powerful mage.. One who's powers Ambrose didn't fully understand.
Ambrose's Master was not prone to explaining himself. He simply granted his students the opportunity to prove themselves - or fail trying. As such, Ambrose didn't actually know the limits of what this creature could do.
Thus far Ambrose had succeeded in winning his approval by never questioning his commands and with his own penchant for subterfuge, betrayal and carefully applied violence. Those methods hadn't failed him yet.
Ambrose had been a little nervous.. He'd gained advantage over the mage with cunning - not strength.
His network of informants had let him know when a certain person with a certain name had entered the city. He'd known the inn and the room. The owners of every inn in the city paid tithe to him. It was a simple enough matter to have the food sent to the room drugged.
Then there little left to do but have his men walk in, capture everyone and throw them in his dungeon.
Ambrose didn't want to face that mage in a head on battle.. He had a healthy respect for anyone his Master would deem an adversary.
Quickly, he commanded his staff to vacate the manor. He didn't want to waste any drones that could not be useful in a fight. Better to save their wretched lives to use at a later time.
With swift, silent mental commands he summoned his elites - his prize possessions - two school trained blades.
He sent the first down into the dungeon stairwell. The second he posted at the door.
Then he commanded his other men to stand by
When the door opened and two bedraggled figures entered - Ambrose felt nothing but relief!
"You?"
It wasn't the mage after all.. the ones who had broken out of his dungeon - had been the Akela runt, and the watchman - that he'd been having interrogated. Just two feckless things without a speck of ishka or magic about them.
He almost grinned in relief.
"I take it then, that ass Larik didn't fare well?", He asked.
Ambrose engaged them in chatter while he sent his mind through the manor, performing an inventory of his drones.
That watchman was quite a warrior, it seemed. He'd managed to kill two of Ambrose's school trained blades, beside half a dozen of his lesser drones. It was rare to hear of a school trained blade bested by a mere mortal. Despite himself, Ambrose found himself impressed.
Then he sighed to himself in regret. Those drones would would be hard to replace. School trained blades were hard enough to come by, let alone capture and enthrall.
What a waste..
Ha. As his mind wandered he realized something. The Akela runt he'd broken quite some time ago. The little shit had impressive mental defenses.. but a little dose of the drug he was so fond of broke him easily enough. He was already Ambrose's creature.
Weak.. too weak..
Ambrose sent his mind into the boy and invoked a command that could not be refused.
Immediately, the little drone grabbed for the watchman, distracting him - giving Ambrose just enough time to act.
He hadn't yet broken the watchman - that took time.
But if he could get close enough, with Master's powers infused in him, it was an easy enough matter to push his simple mortal mind into senseless dreaming.
As the Akela runt grappled with the watchman, Ambrose vaulted over the desk and jabbed a finger into the watchman's forehead - and banished his mind.
...
Ambrose sat back on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms in satisfaction.
He was enjoying himself today...
He gently withdrew his command from the Akela boy, and let him collapse in a corner of the room.
Then Ambrose turned to face the watchman.
The man stood where he'd been, frozen, eyes open. His hands had fallen to his sides. The watchman's mind must be somewhere else now - deep inside his own consciousness.
He sent a silent command, and a dozen of his soldiers streamed into the room.
"Take him away", Ambrose gestured. The drones came forward to lead the watchman away.
The watchman was reduced to a living doll now, till Ambrose decided to free the pathetic creature.
Ambrose smiled.
He'd enjoy breaking this one slowly. He'd be sure to take his time.
Suddenly, Ambrose's smile froze on his face.
The watchman, still standing where he'd been, was turning his head and smiling.