Almost ten ages ago, as one of the founding sons of Shalannan, Roque (Rho-k) was a young lad who revered his father Armitrus (Arm-I-tuss). Armitrus was the Chair of the Shalannan Shipper’s Guild, and dutifully taught Roque how to read and write in numerous languages in order to facilitate his rise as a merchant both at home and across the seas. Roque’s mother had passed soon after his birth, and his father, who was often absent in the early years, had raised him almost completely. As Roque aged, Armitrus allowed him to accompany on many trips bother overseas and up The Great River to Verndane as he was grooming him to take over his shipping business.
Roque’s heart was cold, and no warmth from his father could thaw it. Armitrus knew this, felt it in his very being, but never wanted to look it true in the eye. As such, he took an interest in his son, and educated him as best he could, but turned a blind eye to the misadventures of his child.
When Roque was of 6 years, his father took a new wife, Amylien (AM-ily-yen), who only a year later gave Armitrus a daughter, Rosaerie (Rose-A-ree); whom Roque immediately viewed with hatred. He tormented his younger sibling, and was almost incessantly admonished by his new mother; something he was unaccompanied to and blamed this disdain on Rosaerie.
When Rosaerie was just five, Roque outwardly warmed to his sister and the torment seemed to cease. After months of playing congenially, he was able to convince Amylien on a fine May’s afternoon to allow him to take Rosaerie on an outing to The Chapel for the day, to play in the orchards surrounding, and tour The Chapel to speak with and gain wisdom from the clerics. She acquiesced, somewhat suspicious, but trusting that under the supervision of the consecrated and pious at The Chapel her daughter would be far from distress.
Roque did take Rosaerie to The Chapel, and they did visit the orchards as he had planned. It was clear and bright in the afternoon when the terrifying scream was heard. All who came running found Rosaerie’s limp body at the base of the blossoming apple tree from which she had fallen, and Roque kneeling over her. He claimed to all that he had seen her climbing the tree, but didn’t concern for her as he felt sure she wouldn’t climb high. He told anyone who would listen that she must have gone higher than he counted upon and fallen while he was looking away.
It was not only Amylien who noted no tears in Roque’s eyes as he told his tale and looked upon the lifeless body of his young sister. It was only two nights later that that she was able to confide in Armitrus her horrible suspicion. It was a fear she could not shake and a rumor she could not be deaf too; an acolyte of the order of The Chapel had confided in the most senior Chapel Elder that he, upon hearing the scream of Rosaerie, had looked out the window of the bell tower and seen Roque scrambling down from the very tree at the base of which Rosaerie’s broken body lay.
Armitrus was broken by suspicion, but could he doubt one of the venerated members of The Chapel? He went, under cover of darkness, to consult with the same Chapel Elder and interview the acolyte to hear his tale with his own ears, removing all rumors. With all sincerity and truth in his eyes and voice, the acolyte recounted his story as tears welled in his eyes. It was this truth that drove Armitrus back to his home, to rouse his son from slumber and confront him.
Roque, believing that his father would side with him over the intrusion into their family of Amylien and Rosaerie, told his father what had truly happened. He had taken Rosaerie to The Orchard, and then goaded her into climbing the tree with the least branches and the most difficult to see from any vantage. He had pushed her higher and higher into the tree, and once at the top had grabbed her and flung her to the ground far below. He had thought she would have neither time nor presence of mind to scream so he hadn’t counted on needing to vacate the tree as rapidly as he was warranted to do. As he descended the tree, he noted she was still breathing; so he knelt on her chest until she stopped.
Armitrus was horrified at what he heard, and terrified of what his son not only had done, but at the coldness and distance with which he recounted his own actions. He realized, shaking, that Roque was proud of what he had done, and Armitrus saw in his eyes that the taking of Rosaerie’s life had given him a confidence that was undeniable. Armitrus knew instantly that the same fate would befall Amylien,, perhaps others, unless he were to take definite action. There was only one thing that he could do to protect not only his new wife, but also the other citizens of Shalannan and his reputation in the city.
It was a tense two weeks later when Armitrus and Roque set out on their next trip to Verndane. After having arrived at Crythia, Armitrus found a trapper whom he paid to take his son into the forest deep and “forget him to the trees”. The trapper reluctantly agreed, swayed only by a considerable sum. At daybreak, Armitrus bid Roque a good day, telling him that the trapper would guide him through he forest so he could see first hand the trees, bushes, and animals that they would be trading in; as knowing from whence they come would allow Roque to better value them to the buyers. Armitrus needed to remain in Crythia to inventory the latest wares, a job that was truly as boring and distasteful as could be to a youth such as his son.
Roque was buoyed that his father was putting the faith in him to become more involved in his trade, and blindly went with the stranger disappearing southwards into the woods.
It was only a few hours later that the trapper returned, with a bloody cloak; the one Roque had been wearing the morning they left. He told Armitrus, with convincing moans and wailing, of how they had been set upon by an enormous bear, which had mauled Roque and only just allowed his escape showing his own wounds. Armitrus immediately raised a party of woodmen who he knew to be unfamiliar with the deep forest (under advice of the trapper), and hurried off into the thicket under the guise of finding his son. They returned at nightfall, having found nothing: no body, no bones, and no trail. Roque had vanished, as if into thin air.
Armitrus returned to Shalannan feeling both the despair of losing his only son, but also the lifted burden of the evil he had unknowingly spawned.
In truth, the trapper had taken Roque into the woods and knocked him over the head with a solid stone. Once unconscious, the trapper removed a bear’s claw from his sack and wounded himself, spilling his own blood onto Roque’s cloak, which he then removed from the body. An unconscious body covered in blood in the woods would certainly be dealt with ‘naturally’ he presumed.
