By Blood and Ashes

I open the door to my cabin while the ship is undergoing a storm. Keeping on my feet is challenging, to say the least; however, I'm managing well enough for my first time. Entering the room to sit down for a while—hearing the thundering noises and the cutting winds outside—I got lost in melancholic and nostalgic thoughts about my homeland, Stormveil.

Stormveil was dark and cruel but oddly welcoming. In my homeland, the storm is all we know from birth to death; at Stormveil, the storm is neverending. The flashlights from the thunders remind me of my childhood at Castle Stormhold, when my father, Duke Alexander Velcraven used to rule the province with an iron fist. Now, Stormveil is nothing but a desolate land where the rain falls restlessly because of the emperor and the rest of the great houses.

"Cowards, all of them" I mutter under my breath

The Velcraven's were never the richest nor the wisest in the empire, but we were the strongest in the military sense. Our very trade was winning wars in foreign lands for money, we could massacre the empire, yet we lost. Their schemes and plots took us by surprise, and before we could notice anything wrong, there was an army on our doorstep. I remember that night vividly, how could I forget? it was right after I completed my ascension.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dressed in a blood-red veil that shrouded my whole body, I pass through the giant double door of the ancestor's keep—a dark and ominous place barely illuminated by weak candles that cast shadows of my peers across the room. A red carpet leads toward the center of the keep, where my father lies shrouded in a blood-red veil alongside a black pedestal holding a bowl. All Velcravens are lined up here today, shrouded in cloaks, leaving only their blood-red eyes to be seen in the darkness of the great ancestors' keep. I can feel the envy of my brothers and sisters, had to deal with it for most of my childhood as a bloodborn. I came into this world by blood, because I killed my mother at birth—a sign of strength and domination in the Velcraven culture—It is written that a bloodborn will always be the rightful heir independently of the order of succession. As the fourth child, being a bloodborn gave me more trouble than privilege while growing up—my older brother who was supposed to be the heir tried to have me killed many times, more than I can count on two hands, yet here I stand.

Arriving at the pedestal, my father looks at me with blood-red eyes devoid of any other color, common to those who undergo the ancestor's rite.

"Reveal your face, my child," He said, his voice deep and cold.

I pull down my hood, revealing my figure and my hair quickly cascaded down my back after being freed. My father reached out for the bowl. The liquid inside smells horrible, quite like the corpse of a person who was tortured for months.

"Katherine Bloodborn Velcraven, today you shall become a true member of our house by joining your blood with that of our ancestors, as it is written in the scriptures. By Blood, She Shall Ascend" My father's announcement echoes across the keep.

"Our Legacy Flows Eternal" Everyone in the room repeats in unison.

The road was far from easy but I'm finally at the end. I endured torture, trained until my bones were broken, studied restlessly, tortured, and killed. I must admit, never had the same taste for cruelty as the rest of my family—I see its use, I just never came to enjoy it. When I was a little girl, I recall crying while torturing my first slave, Father got quite mad, so he freed the slave and trapped me with him. That fucker beat me up for a while before Father came back, tortured him just fine after that. The next day, the second slave was a little easier to torture, then the third, then the fourth, and so on—It became a habit, never enjoyed it but didn't care if I had to do it.

Now, it is time for me to say the words I trained in the mirror for years.

"I, Katherine Bloodborn Velcraven, Fourth child of Alexander Velcraven Duke of Stormveil and Warden of Castle Stormhold, hereby swear to live always according to our ancestor scriptures and honor their blood until my last breath. By Blood, I Shall Ascend"

"Our Legacy Flows Eternal" Everyone in the room repeats in unison.

I extend my hands and Father bestows the bowl upon me.

"Now, ascend child of murder," My father said with an uncommon enthusiasm in his tone.

The dark red liquid goes down my throat leaving the most horrible and disgusting taste one could ever feel. If death itself had a liquid, it would be this. Nevertheless, I drank it to the last drop and the effects came right after—dark red lines began to spread across my body, now mixing my blood with that of my ancestors, the blood red began to appear on my eyes, spreading like a fog, consuming all colors my eyes once had. Everything seemed to be going accordingly, however, my surroundings began to change. Suddenly all I could see was a black fog surrounding me.

"Where am I?" I asked myself confused

Soon, I begin to hear a laugh, a twisted laugh that seems to come from a woman. My head turns everywhere trying to find its source, yet all I can see is darkness. I immediately reach out for my sword, disappointing myself because I forgot I'm not carrying it with me now.

"Who is it? Who is there?" I shout angrily

Suddenly, a part of the black fog begins to fly over to me, and from it, a person appears. A woman with long red hair, tall, lean, and muscular shape—much like myself, not only in body but her face is almost identical to mine, an oval-shaped face with a slightly pointed chin. Her nose is small and straight—she is wearing armor fitting for a warlord, a dark armor probably bathed in dragon blood by the look of it.

"Your eyes..." I mutter in disbelief at the sight of her blood-red eyes.

"Now it is not the time to discuss things," She says, her voice calm and collected.

She grabs me by the neck, and before I can react her body turns into a black fog that enters through my nose, mouth, and eyes. I fell to my knees and a vision came to me—an army marching through Stormveil, holding the banners of all the great houses in the empire—I saw death, my father's head on a spike at the entrance of Castle Stormhold, and my brothers and sisters butchered like pigs under the undying storm. I saw the unbelievable, the doom of the House Velcraven in a battle that lasted for four nights. Our soldiers were overwhelmed by the lack of time to prepare and before anyone could notice, Castle Stormhold was turned into a ruin.

By the time I came back to my senses, I was in my bed. I desperately leave my room heading toward my father's chambers, to tell him about everything that happened.

"I see," He said while standing up from his chair, and proceeding to walk up to a shelf filled with books, he pulls a book opening a secret passage in the wall. "Follow me, Katherine"

Contrary to my expectations, he is calm. There isn't a hint of doubt or disbelief in his demeanor yet he is completely calm. I do as he says, following right behind him as he makes way into the dark hallway holding a torch. Soon, we arrive at a huge painting hanging on the wall. A painting presenting a man sitting on an armchair, he had red hair and blood-red eyes—I gasped after analyzing the painting further. Behind him, there is a woman, the exact woman that appeared to me earlier, she was standing tall at the man's side like a warden.

"Do you know the history behind Stormveil?" Father asked seeming thoughtful

The questions confused me, after all, I just told him that our house was about to face extinction at the hands of a great army. This is most definitely not the time to tell stories, still, I'm sure Father knows this too so if he is insisting on telling me then I shall hear it.

"I don't, at least not completely. All I know is that hundreds of years ago before the empire was born, a group that today is known as the founders of the Great Houses alongside the first emperor, Gillard The Wise, came to this land to conquer it from the Viziart's. Our founder, Parthiel Velcraven, was among the ones who came with the emperor" I explained

"Correct, but not the whole story. Before Stormveil became the land of eternal darkness and storm, it was ruled by the Viziarts, imbeciles who worship trees. At the time, Emperor Gillard divided the army and scattered it to each of what today are provinces, Stormveil was assigned to our founder of course. In this painting, the woman behind Parthiel is his twin sister, Parthiella. Parthiel might be recognized as the founder today, but without Parthiella, there would be no House Velcraven. She was a mighty and brutal general while Parthiel was a wise leader. When they eventfully won against the vermins, both Parthiel and Parthiella had a conflict about who would rule, then Parthiellla challenged Parthiel to a duel to the death which he accepted. The battle lasted weeks, and it is said to have been such a mighty battle that it changed the very composition of the province, the clash of their swords and magic was what formed the eternal storm above us" Father usually shows no emotion, but while telling this story I couldn't help but notice the pride in his tone.

Wow... how powerful one must be to create a neverending storm in a duel? Impressive. And it couldn't be more Velcraven-like, no other house would feel pride about a duel to death between brother and sister. If a duel is not to the death then what is the meaning of it? Our customs say that we don't use our swords unless we are about to kill someone or something. There is a famous saying here in the empire, 'The wise don't duel a Velcraven; the dead wish they hadn't'.

"It seems that the blood gave you a gift, foresight, rare, last one to possess this gift was Parthiella herself. Her blood must run thick on you, seeing how you are her spitting image" He says with his cold tone

"Father, what are we going to do?" I asked now with a hint of impatient in my tone

"Our fate is sealed. this is our ancestor's home, and right now, there are dirt vermins walking under the storm, but they shall learn. Today we carve the path to you, my child. The great houses shall not leave unscathed, we might lose but your army won't, after we reduce their numbers" Father says with a silent inraged tone, not at me, more like he is filled with anger by the thought of having people daring to invade his land.

I look at him with nothing but respect and pride for my house while shaking my head slowly up and down. "You have my word," I say

"You are going north to Kingwain, a foreign land known for its coldness and snow, seek Jarl Eslief of Kartherk, he owns a favor to our house. Now leave, pack your things, and wait for further orders"

I turn to leave while he continues to stand there, staring at the painting. Suddenly, he calls me and I turn around once again to face him.

"Remember, once you step foot out of this castle, you will be Katherine Bloodborn Velcraven, Duchess of Stormveil and Warden of Castle Stormhold, act accordingly"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now I'm here, in this shaking ship bored to no end.

I reach out to my leather backpack resting on the side of my bed, pulling out a hairbrush. Illuminated by the feeble light of a single candle standing miraculously still on the bedside table, I proceed to brush my long threads of dark hair while the pleasant storm plays in the background alongside the shouts of the crew upstairs fighting against it.

"Why are you staring at me like this?" I ask annoyed to Parthiella, who is standing still across the room like a forsaken spirit.

"You look almost exactly like me," She says with a little giggle before giving me the most twisted smile I have ever seen. "And it fuck irritates me, I wish I could beat you up," She says with a serious-casual tone like it is something completely normal to say.

Even in death, having my god-like ancestor telling me that she wants to beat me up gives me chills down my spine. For some reason, this bitch keeps following me and no one seems to see her, plus she won't tell me what the fuck she wants. It's maddening.

"Seems like you get it, cunt. No, the bitch won't tell you what the fuck she wants" She says sarcastically.

And she can hear my thoughts too. Sigh... guess it is just another thing to get used to, like not hearing constant lightning outside.

"You don't seem all that sad about the death of everyone you ever knew," She says with a mocking tone.

"Why would I? They died in battle, spilling the blood of our enemies" I say casually, ignoring her attempt to arouse my anger.

She gives a disdainful sniff before her body morphs into a black fog, disappearing right before my eyes. Alone at last, or so I thought but a knock on the door came. I permitted the entrance to my quarters and right away a bold man entered the room, wearing hags and a chain belt around his neck with iron chains that connected both his wrists to it. A slave, sent to death.

The slave closes the door behind him and swiftly kneels with his head low, not daring to look at me.

"I came to serve as your meal for tonight, Lady Katherine," He said, his voice devoid of any emotion whatsoever, as expected of a slave who is about to die.

I stop brushing my hair putting aside my hairbrush before standing up. "I see," I say, my voice low and emotionless. I approach him, my dark red cloak slightly touching the floor as slowly descend my hand upon his head, but before I can touch him—she suddenly appears by my side, close enough to whisper in my ear, "Try to see across his blood while draining it" She says, disappearing right after. Fuck, it took all my willpower to not flinch and punch what would be the air. Sigh... Nevertheless, didn't quite understand what 'see across his blood means' but it won't hurt to try.

Proceeding, my hand falls upon his head, and immediately after dark red lines begin to spread from my neck going at a fast pace toward my arm and soon reaching my hand. The slave begins to growl in pain as the same dark red lines begin to extend from my hand to his whole body, moving his blood to me—the feeling is exhilarating, the taste even better than the feeling—I try to concentrate on Parthiella words, 'see across his blood' and suddenly, I had a vision.

I saw this slave before he was a slave. He used to live at the Ivoryreach, the Great House of the Wiswoon's province back in the empire. His name is Jerold, he had a wife and a son—he never had much, yerned his keep by working the fields, and eventfully got addicted to thread, a drug extracted from a rare spider usually used in brothels. Couldn't pay his debts so Jerold got sold off to this crew.

I take my hand off the man's head and he falls lifeless on the ground. I see, this will be quite useful to acquire information quickly. Guess I won't need to torture anyone anymore, at least for a while, until I put my hands on the wardens of the great houses.

I resume my hair-brushing session, sitting on my bed beside the feeble candle. Soon, another man knocks on my door, now to take away the corpse laid on my quarters. Always trying to avoid gazing at me—people are superstitions about the Velcravens, while these superstitions tend to serve as barriers that protect us, in my situation it will be harmful to me—no one can wage war alone, and it won't help if most people think that meeting the eyes of a Velcraven will make them explode. I will deal with it eventfully, there is not much I can do while in the middle of The Open Tide after all.

...

"Here, the rest of the payment alongside the fee for the slaves" I throw a satchel filled with imperial gold coins to the captain.

The captain was flabbergasted to reserve such an amount and quickly opened it to check as I walked away, descending at the dorks of the waterfront city of Boreal Bay. With nothing but my sword on my back, a knife on my boot, a few changes of clothes, and a hooded dark red cloak—mostly to cover my face and protect my body from the cold weather—no gold, gave it all to the captain of that ship, turned out that slaves are quite expensive and I had to kill two every day to keep myself fed. 

I will have to earn my keep for a while before heading toward Kartherk, the way will be harsh and I lack any supplies whatsoever. According to that captain, there is an Iron Mark hall in this city, so earning some pocket gold is just a matter of chopping off a few bandit heads.

The sun shines in the sky while the gentle summer snow falls upon Boreal Bay as I walk the filled main street seeking the Iron Mark between shouts of merchants trying to sell their products and people loudly speaking. Everything seems to be so white, and it gives a beautiful contrast because most of the city is made of blackish stones. The city seems to be thriving, as expected of a waterfront city they get a lot of motion.

The hall was easy enough to find, a large building with a sign bearing the Iron Mark. The hard part will be entering—northerners tend to don't see well when women try to perform in combat, it is a cultural thing for them. Another huge difference compared to the empire is that here in the North you are not allowed to have slaves of any kind, not even war slaves for some reason I just can't comprehend. Nevertheless, if there is trouble I will have to deal with it to the best of my abilities.

I step inside with my head low, passing through the wooden double door ornamented with the Iron Mark sigil—a round medallion engraved with a clenched hand holding scales, the medallion border features stamped chevrons alongside their motto engraved on it, "Marks Paid, Marks Made."—The hall was simple enough, a few tables, cozy fire on the middle, a staircase leading to a mezzanine floor above the counter.

I can feel their gazes on me while passing through to approach the counter. A part of it is because I'm a woman carrying a sword, but truly most of it is because they can automatically perceive that I'm a foreigner by my attire. In any case, I reached the counter without facing any major trouble and the worker was quick to answer me.

"How can I help?" He says warmly with a smile on his face.

"I would like to acquire a permit to collect bounties," I say, my voice low and serious.

With each word the doubt in his eyes increases.

"... I see," He says hesitantly and proceeds, "Are you familiar with the procedure?"

"Only the part that matters, kill, take the head, come back, and claim bounty" I answer 

My nonchalant answer takes him by surprise— the traditional northern women don't usually speak about this kind of subject so openly, so I see how it might throw people off balance—It is so oddly different from Stormveil, there it doesn't matter what gender you are born, or what gender you choose to fuck with it, all that matters is how good you are at killing.

Before the worker could answer, a seemingly very offended man who was sitting close by the fire shouted, "Go back to your land, foreigner, we can smell your stinky highborn cunt from miles away" I simply close my eyes and sigh heavily as the man who shouted comes my way with a smirk. "What are you? some kind of man-woman from across the open tide?" He says jokingly while stopping in front of me, making most of the hall laugh. "Excuse me, my lord, I would like to acquire a permit," he says joking about my educated speech, once again waking the laugh of many across the hall—I guess somehow for them knowing how to speak properly is a reason to be joked at. Didn't read about this in the books about the North.

I completely ignore the man, turning around with my head low shrouded by my hood to face the worker behind the counter, who hears an expression of concern.

"Could I ask you what would happen if I beat this man up, right here and right now?" I ask, the worker confused and worried hesitates to answer but my calm tone leaks with sheer confidence, and he knows it. The obnoxious man begins to laugh uncontrollably, "The highborn lady wants to throw hands with a true son of the North"

I hear the worker answer in between laughs and mockery, "Well, seeing how he is clearly taunting you, as long as you don't break anything that belongs to the Iron Mark and don't kill each other," Music to my ears.

I turn around once more, facing the laughing man. He is hearing fur armor, good against blunt attacks but it won't matter against me. He puts his guard up and tries to throw a punch at my face while shouting some random insult. I secure my hood with my left hand, making sure to leave my eyes out of sight while stepping to the side swiftly dodging his punch while counter-attacking with a right punch on his guts—I had to hold on a bit of my force and yet he still fell to the ground barely able to breathe, guess I overestimated his strength—the room fell silent, I could only hear the flame creaks and the airless man struggling on the ground.

I put my foot on his right hand, trapping it as he squirms. When I was about to go further, some woman screamed desperately across the room while she ran toward me. Judging by her appearance and the axe on her belt, she can handle herself in combat, quite rare around here.

"Don't do it, you have proven yourself. Gunnar has a wife and a daughter to feed, if you take away his right hand then-"

*Crack*

The man's screams echo across the hall and a good part of the street as I shatter his right hand bones with my foot. The woman in front of me simply stares with disgust and anger while clenching her fists, and I say to her, my voice barely above a whisper with an emotionless tone, "He is a true son of the North, he will manage it"

I left the hall with my permit alongside my bounty. Anyone could feel their frustration while watching me leave, probably felt like a blow to their northern pride—the worker was quite pleased though, and he is well-spoken, must be a foreigner himself.

Unfolding the bounty paper, I see a rough painting of my target alongside the words 'Last seen camping at the Gray Lake, east from Boreal Bay' If I remember correctly, the Gray Lake is very close, less than a day but it says last seen, he most probably won't be there for long.