“Remember, dear. You must be brief. The meeting must be only fifteen minutes.”
Archbaroness Eldonna Aumaxa circled her daughter, her face neutral. Eldonna was a tall, lithe woman with flowing bck hair and piercing bck eyes; if any aspect of Sosima’s hair or dress had been less than pristine, Eldonna would have known. Her silent acceptance was as good as praise.
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“Mama, didn’t Miss Osanna say she could hold the spell indefinitely?” Sosima weedled, “why only fifteen?”
“Her skill is a variable that is yet unknown.” Archbaroness Aumaxa reminded her eldest daughter, “I would spend a few more months vetting her if I could, but the rumors are already spreading of the Aumaxa girl hidden away from all the world. What happens if we allow rumors to go uncontested?”
“Our political enemies will surely strike at us during the scandal, as they would if my horns were revealed.” Sosima answered with a sigh. “I am sorry mother. I only wish I could meet with Melodia for longer.”
“I know, dear.” Eldonna stroked her daughter’s hair gently. “I sincerely wish you could simply pay social calls to your friends, but we must be tactical. I am still hoping we can find a housecat for you, but you know how expensive they are as kittens. I’m certainly not trusting one we didn’t raise ourselves. So, what are you to say?”
“I am grateful for the chance to see her in person, but my schooling will make it difficult to make appointments in the future.” Sosima answered, subdued, “I will imply that you are overly controlling and leave me with no time for establishing ties outside of letters. Her birthday coincides with the day that Lord Imbrex is coming to tutor me in the elementary binding arts, and so I will be unable to see her that day.”
Lady Osanna, ostensibly a new Governess for Sosima, quietly entered Sosima’s chambers shortly after. She was a tall woman, deathly pale, with the many piercings and bck silk common to Nidalese shadowcasters. Her cold grey eyes fell upon Sosima, and warmed ever so slightly.
“I will need you to trust me, child.” She said, looking down. “Until that trust is established, we will need to work in short bursts, and you must never step beyond my sight.”
Sosima’s one servant, an elderly butler, wheeled a tall silver mirror before the child. His grandson was brilliant enough to become an engineer or an arcanist, and by the grace of House Aumaxa would receive the education necessary to do so.
Thanks to the mirror, Sosima was able to watch in real time as her horns became a crown braid. Her maroon skin lightened to a smooth olive complexion. Her eyes, though still golden, dimmed to match her father’s color, instead of being luminous and inhuman.
There was nothing magical about the smile that spread across her face, but Eldonna took the moment and sealed it in her memory. It was a treasure that the archbaroness so rarely had the good fortune of seeing.
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“And it’s been active continuously for a full week?” Octavian Aumaxa asked fretfully. “No flickers, no difficulty at all?”
“Yes, Papa.” Sosima said, beaming. “They’re perfect.”
“Well we could hardly have Osanna shadowing you at your debut.” Octavian said, smiling. “You’re much too old for a governess. Sixteen already, and the very picture of your mother at that age.”
The earrings had been a commission years in the making. Finding a skilled artificer in Cheliax was easy enough, but each and every one of them were required to log their work with the Hellknight orders. If their function were a matter of public record, she could be revealed at any moment. They had briefly considered hiring a free gnomish servant and circuting a rumor that they were a disguised halfling, but such a scheme cked the virtue of simplicity. Better to simply commission the work from a jeweler in one of the former colonies and have them shipped across the sea.
“You should of course enjoy yourself, but do not forget you have goals to pursue.” He said. “We are sending you out into society so you can find a good match.”
“Like you and mother?” Sosima asked, smiling.
“By the gods, no.” Octavian guffawed. “Your mother was a terrible fool to fall for someone so lowly. I’m sure you can do much better than a navy man.”
“Don’t you love each other, though?” Sosima pressed. “You seem much happier together than Lord and Lady Aulorian, for example.”
“Ideally, yes, you’ll find a love match.” Octavian allowed. “But I expect you to check with all of the young men of an appropriate station first, young dy. Lyserius Thrune will be attending, you know. He’ll be looking for a proper wife, and a future Archbaroness is just the kind of woman who might be allowed to marry into the imperial family. Only a few years older than you, and quite the strapping fellow by all accounts.”
He’s also one of few who might be able to protect her. If she marries a Thrune, no one will be able to touch her, hellspawn or no. Those earrings won’t protect her forever, just buy her time to establish herself.
“I will make it a point to introduce myself to him, Papa.” Sosima promised, smoothing her dress for the ten thousandth time, “Is it time to go yet? I simply cannot wait.”
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Damnation!
Sosima had been so excited to attend the ball unattended that she hadn’t noticed a fw in her disguise until someone pointed it out. Her hooves were bare, wrapped in an illusory pair of shoes. Visually, they were perfect. Unfortunately, the toes of her cloven foot clicked against the stone floor with every step. She’d briefly considered hovering about the edge of the dance floor, but to do so would be beneath her dignity as the eldest scion of house Aumaxa.
“I apologize.” She said ruefully, toying with her earring. “I was so excited for the event I’m afraid I came in tap shoes.”
As she spoke, she adjusted the illusion slightly, turning her illusory shoes into tap shoes. She gingerly showed them to the matronly woman who had asked, and fled. With any luck, no one else would notice. That was not to be, though who is to say if that was good fortune or bad?
Many girls crowded around Lyserius Thrune, and it was easy to see why. He had the bright green eyes common in the imperial family’s main branch, and an easy ugh which echoed across the dance floor as he spoke to his many admirers. He cut a dignified figure in his bck navy uniform, though his true self had never been to sea. Three of his selves served abroad, earning him the right to wear an officer’s coat years early.
Sosima had dignity; she refused to stand in a queue to speak to a man, even a Thrune. Instead, she drifted about near him, introducing herself to allies of her family and waiting for him to notice her. She was tall, limber, and already had an impressive bust for a sixteen year old. Any man would be eager to court her, as she’d been reminded throughout the night by men unworthy of her attention. More importantly, anyone who knew the houses of Kintargo should be able to recognize her as Eldonna’s daughter: there were simply too many simirities in their face and body to ignore. Her patience paid off, after a time.
“Miss Aumaxa, I presume?” Lyserius said, cutting in on her dance. “I’ve been pnning on speaking with you all night.”
“Oh? To what do I owe such an honor?” Sosima said, batting her eyeshes and entirely forgetting the boy she’d been dancing with, “I assure you, I’m thrilled at the opportunity to meet.”
“I hear you wore tap shoes,” Lyserius said with a smile, leaning in as the music demanded, “but I don’t think that’s the real issue. It seems you have an aura of illusion about you.”
“Oh Lyserius!” Sosima stuttered, scandalized. “Simply a few cosmetics, nothing to be concerned over.”
It was considered immensely gauche to detect magical auras in mixed company. Sosima’s condition was extreme, but hardly the only reason someone might want to cloak themselves. Many of the most beautiful faces of the court were true works of art, crafted by the hands of very mortal artists. Of course a member of the imperial family could detect magic freely; anything less left them open to assassination. Besides, who would tell them no?
“Surely.” Lyserius said with a smirk, “would you like to step out with me? I admit I’m intrigued, and I could have a bottle sent up to my room so we can chat. I understand if you have other people to meet with.”
Sosima, the naive girl, agreed eagerly. She wanted this man’s approval, his protection, maybe even his love.
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The wine had gone to Sosima’s head; she was tall for her age, but still fairly slender. She’d been giddy at the opportunity to be alone with a handsome and respectable young man, and could hardly notice the fog in her mind. Lyserius had asked about her studies, and about her illusion.
“You may wish to integrate a magic aura spell into your earrings.” He suggested. “I heard your tutors included a shadowcaster; I’m surprised she didn’t suggest it.”
“Too expensive,” Sosima sang, then giggled. “No one but you would even ask. Too rude.”
She leaned against him, luxuriating in a moment of intimacy. She’d had so very few.
“What can I say, I am a curious man.” Lyserius said, smiling down at the pretty girl. “Mysteries intrigue me, and I like to know secrets.”
He stroked her cheek with his fingers so very gently, and leaned down to kiss her on her painted lips. She froze for a moment, panicked.
What do I do? What does he want? What if he wants more? Do I want more?
He continued kissing her, and in a moment of drunken impulse Sosima decided she did want more. She kissed him with all the sloppy, artless enthusiasm a sheltered virgin could muster. He wrapped his arms around her, ran his fingers up her spine, and pulled her into his p. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his warmth, the faintly oily aftertaste his saliva left on her lips. He ran his hand through her hair, and she felt him smile.
“Aha.” He said smugly.
Sosima’s blood froze in her veins. His hand wrapped around her horn, stroking down the length to feel its invisible shape. Her thoughts, disordered and sluggish, finally reminded her of the dangers of intimacy. The shield of respectability her parents had ordered her to erect. What was she to do now?
“So, you’re a tiefling.” He said, conversationally, as if it weren’t the next worst thing to being a halfling. “Interesting; I wonder how it happened. Neither of your parents are diabolists, are they? May I see? I promise not to tell.”
Naive hope blossomed in Sosima’s heart. She shyly touched her earring and allowed the illusion to fade. Her skin darkened to maroon, and the braid Lyserius appeared to be holding in his hand resolved into an obsidian horn. She held her breath, but the future duke didn’t recoil.
“Excellent.” He said, smiling. “Some tieflings are really quite hideous. You have all the beauty of an Erinyes. Would you like to continue?
Sosima nodded, not trusting herself to speak coherently. For the first time, she felt like she was pretty. That she was not a hideous freak that needed to be hidden, but a shadow of the dark angels of Asmodeus. If this man could find her beautiful, it must be so.
They did many things that night, most of which were foolish, reckless, and wonderful. Lyserius was as good as his word, far more discreet about her true face than about their dalliance in general. It caused something of a stir at court, especially when she refused to go so far with any other suitor. Many believed the Aumaxa girl was carrying a torch for the dashing Thrune boy; they were right, though he didn’t take her to bed again but once a season or so.
Over the next few years, Lyserius Thrune taught Sosima something very important. A dashing prince may find beauty in a tiefling. He may even call her his dark angel in private. That didn’t change anything, not really. A prince might fuck a hellspawn, might enjoy exclusive access to her, but marry her? Never.
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Sosima held her arms out delicately, allowing her servants to finish cing up her corset. Her dress was perfect; of course the opera house would provide her with a costume if she got the role, but she was certain that coming in properly dressed would help them to see her in the proper light.
After years of dance csses, vocal training, and acting, Sosima was ready to take the first step upon the path towards Egorian opera. The Mironeth opera house, the only prominent one left in Westcrown, was somewhat pokey compared to the ones her mother maintained, but if she debuted in Kintargo she could never hope to escape the stink of nepotism. Instead, mother had pulled a few strings to get her this audition and shipped her across the length of the empire for her birthday.
They had calcuted that this was the most prominent venue where Sosima could reasonably secure a leading role based on talent alone, allowing for her debut to have maximal effect. Even better, the audition was for The Bck Seraph, the tale of the greatest Erinyes in all of hell. Sosima wanted that role more than she could possibly express with mere words.
While Sosima waited for her turn, she cast her imperious gaze around, seeing the other girls who had crawled out of the woodwork. The only one she recognized was Isawyn Ici, with whom Sosima had shared a few csses at the Egorian academy of Bardic Arts.
Isawyn and Sosima had never been friends, of course. House Ici was so minor as to be irrelevant; it was genuinely better to befriend a commoner than a noble from a disgraced family from Westcrown. Of course, she was quite good, both as a performer and an arcanist. Such a waste of effort; everyone knew binding is the best path for one’s magic elective. Arcana is only useful if one intended to pursue a career in industry, and if one intended to do that one would not be at a bardic college.
Despite her oddness, Isowyn was the only girl present who might take the role from Sosima, even wearing that tragically ratty dress. Sosima gave her a cool nod of acknowledgement, and Isowyn had the audacity to gre back.
Perhaps she had been expecting to be the only girl present with any talent? Sosima surely had, and it would take months before she could secure another opportunity like this.
When her name was called, Sosima glided out onto the stage. She smiled, curtsied, and greeted each member of the panel of judges by name, thanking them each in turn. Mother had secured her a list of names, to help make a good first impression.
“I will be auditioning for the role of Eiseth, Lord Mironeth.” She said simply. “I have familiarized myself with all of her songs, of course. How should I begin?”
“The Descent, if you please.” Lord Mironeth, a portly man who she had met a few times, prompted. “I will signal you when it is time to stop.”
A single bard began the song on his violin, calling forth a phantom orchestra of indifferent skill for accompaniment, and Sosima joined him. She allowed herself to fall into the role, and the smile slipped from her mouth. As Eiseth released her tirade against her incompetent Empyrean overlord, Sosima loosened the lid upon her own rage. It was wrong to question, but so too was it wrong to obey the weak, the foolish. Those who feared their betters and forced them to hide behind masks. It flowed into her voice, reaching its peak in the moment where Eiseth struck, ripping the heart from an arrogant celestial’s chest.
She heard the judges gasp, but was caught up in the moment. She danced her steps as best she could, her hooves clicking upon the stage as she did. She cried out her vindication, her rage, her vengeance in an echo of the bck seraph’s rage, and the song was over. Sosima reguted her breathing carefully, out of breath but with no intention of showing it.
The panel of judges appuded, standing in ovation. Sosima was mildly dizzy, having thrown everything into the performance. She reminded herself that she would need to maintain a sustainable performance; she intended to do this nightly for many months.
“Good show! Good show!” Lord Mironeth said with a smile, “Tell me, however did you manage such a perfect illusion? It will need some minor changes, but it is an excellent start for how to present Eiseth after she rejects the heavens.”
Sosima froze. Illusion?
“My word.” The bard said, looking up. “There is no illusion I can see. Just a pair of enchanted earrings, but those are inactive.”
Sosima reactivated her earrings with but a thought, regaining her mask of humanity. It was too te; the opera was not an approved career for tieflings. The smiles that had been all around Sosima faded, repced with realization, anger, pity… every smile except one. Isawyn could not contain her malicious glee; a spiteful cantrip to strip Sosima of her makeup had proven to be so much more.
That smile would have perhaps been repced with horror, had she realized the long arm of Archbaroness Eldonna. Isowyn had ruined two careers that day, two lives. Sosima took some comfort in that, on the darker days.
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“I’m sorry, Sosima.” Octavian said, weeks ter. “Your mother couldn’t come.”
“She’s ashamed of me.” Sosima said hollowly. “I’ve ruined our family’s reputation.”
“No.” Octavian insisted. “She needs to manage the situation, that’s all. One can’t simply act as if nothing changed. Speaking of which, we need to decide where you’ll be going.”
“Going?” Sosima asked, aghast. “Are you disowning me?”
“How dare you!” Octavian snapped. “You are my daughter. I would go into exile alongside you before throwing you to the wolves. Never accuse me of such cowardly behavior again.”
He squeezed Sosima’s hand fiercely.
“Even in your heart, never think of yourself as something to be thrown away.” He ordered her, holding her gaze. “Promise me.”
“I promise, Papa.” She whispered, breaking eye contact.
Sosima could not bear to look at her father while she lied to him. She knew the harm she’d inflicted upon this family far too well to pretend she deserved such support. Sosima had thought her reservoir of tears depleted, but more arrived. She wiped them; it was unbefitting of a dy to cry in front of others.
“Good.” Octavian said with a nod. “We will need to find you another path to walk. Your mother and I have considered what to do if this ever happened.”
“I don’t want to go to the church of Asmodeus.” Sosima said, a pit forming in her stomach. “Perhaps Abadar? Or Irori?”
The church of Asmodeus id cim to all hellspawn born in Cheliax. The majority of the Lord of the Nine’s clergy were made up of tieflings raised among the church. By all rights, Sosima should have been handed over in her infancy. Noble tieflings retained their names, thanks to special exceptions worked into the legal code. Sosima had never felt the faintest affinity for the red god, however. His servants, sometimes, but not Asmodeus.
“No, it would be a waste.” Octavian shook his head. “If we’d wanted that, we would have sent you when you were young. If you went now, you'd hardly have any connections. You'd likely end up scrubbing floors unless you could manage divine magic. Unacceptable, even if we were only considering your position tactically.”
“What, then?” Sosima asked, cocking her head.
“We could arrange to put you into position in one of the old colonies.” Octavian offered. “Korvosa or Magnimar, perhaps? Somewhere outside of the dominion of Thrune, where tieflings are… well, less overtly restricted.”
“We don’t have holdings in Korvosa or Magnimar.” Sosima pointed out. “They restrict the interests of the nobility. No one in the line of succession of any major house may-“
Sosima’s eyes widened.
“Yes. We would need to legally disown you.” Octavian admitted. “It would be a polite fiction, but on paper you would no longer be of this family. We would use you to allow us to operate with impunity.”
“You’d pour money into letting me pretend I was helping.” Sosima said, shaking her head. “Mother would have set something up already if it were worth the trouble. I won’t give up my name for that.”
“There is also the navy.” Octavian said. “It’s not the life I would have chosen for you, but it is honorable. After twenty years of service you will be allowed to retire, and will have some capital of your own to draw upon. Connections, allies, legitimacy. Things we can not simply give you, as much as we would like to. Tiefling veterans are even made full citizens, if they complete forty years.”
“That settles it, then.” Sosima said, straightening. “I will join the navy.”
“Are you sure?” Octavian asked, “it isn’t an easy service. You will need to succeed by your own merits. I will need to pull every string I have just to get you in, and I don’t have many contacts among active captains anymore.”
“Then I shall do just that.” Sosima said with a sniff. “I do have a few friends I might be able to draw upon. I might never be a baroness, but mother told me how to py politics well enough.”
If Lyserius had the honor of a half starved street cat, he would help her. He owed her that much.
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Lyserius had come through, in his own way. Of course, if one can judge a man by his friends, the opposite can also be said. Sosima should not have been surprised by the shiftless lechers he was able to put her in contact with. They were not so bad as to force themselves upon her, but they were all very aware that they were doing her a favor. Sosima was nothing special as an officer, with a misaligned education and no experience at sea.
Being a morale officer seemed logical; party pnning, catering, music, directing servants: these were things she knew something of. Not much, mind, but something. Enough that she could fulfil the role, if only just. Certainly not enough to rise, to be distinguished. Sosima didn’t want this job, but she wanted to be mediocre even less.
She threw herself into learning, but she was passed around from ship to ship every five or six months. At first she thought the men were only bitter about her refusal to sleep with them. Her first female captain disabused her of that notion. The men saw her as game to be hunted, and tolerated her missteps. The women didn’t see her as anything special, unless they saw her as a threat by virtue of her beauty.
Sosima did improve; her pride would allow nothing less, but it was over the course of many years. Simple competent performance did nothing for her career, however. She had been a morale officer for years already when she finally relented. The captain was decent looking, if nearly twice her age.
She started with teasing, pying the part of a receptive but proper young girl, though she was nearly thirty. It was a part that her unaging face allowed her to py well enough. They wanted a hunt. A diversion. Lyserius had taught her far too well how little a man valued what was freely given. Sosima enjoyed sex, but being pursued was far better than that. Financially and tactically beneficial as well; a man trying to impress a woman was free with gifts and favors. She did begin sleeping with the captains, but she tried to make a production of it. Sex was always important, always a boon she gave because she was overcome with passion. Always “just this one time.”
Her career improved greatly after that. Men kept her on their ships for longer, and she learned how to operate. She brushed up on binding, and learned how to wield a bde properly. She faced the enemies of the empire at sea, and by the tenth year doing so she lost her fear of it. She pursued posts further abroad, which paid better. She started to dream.
She needed to change tactics, then. The proper fighting captains tended to be lonely, passionate men, and they wanted a companion far more than the men gone from shore for only a few months at a time. She cultivated retionships with her marks, telling her story, sharing her dreams. Sometimes her affection was not entirely feigned, and sometimes the men would offer their support freely. The captain of the Infernus was not such a man.
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“Oh yes, that’s a good girl.” Captain Labeo said, leering at Sosima. “Take it off.”
“Of course, my Captain.” Sosima said, batting her eyeshes, “I only thought it might please you.”
“Bah, it’s just covering up the important bits.” Labeo chuckled. “Fun to watch you take it off, though.”
Sosima effortlessly suppressed her irritation. The silk lingerie, purchased in Bloodcove, was quite nice. It was meant to be worn under form fitting, masculine clothing, and was designed to shape the body without stays. It gave her a very fttering profile in her uniform, and Gideon simply did not care. In retrospect, she should have known better.
Gideon Labeo was not a gentleman in any sense of the word. He was uncouth, lowborn, brutal, and tactless. Ironically, that said quite a lot about how absolutely incredible he was at his job, to captain a blockade runner through the length of the Shackles multiple times a year. The madman stopped to take a prize as often as not; he even had several counterfeit fgs and letters of Marque. He would take a Shackles ship, cp the prisoners in chains, and sail it back to friendly waters to sell ship and crew alike to the Aspis Consortium. It made him quite a pretty penny, and by extension enriched Sosima as well. After three such round trips, enduring his company, Sosima wasn’t sure if it was worth it.
“Of course my lord, how may I take care of you today?” She spoke gently, injecting as much desire as she could fake into her words. “I only wish to be of service.”
“Crawl over here, devil.” He said, crudely gesturing at his crotch. “Start with that noble mouth today.”
He took hold of her left horn as she unbuttoned him and took him in her mouth. She moaned slightly, embarrassed as always that it wasn’t entirely a lie. She hated him, but he accidentally pushed several of her buttons, especially once he realized the folly of mentioning her real name. She found herself slipping into the role, which made it more bearable. She was a bound erinyes concubine, forced into this role by a powerful man. Hate was natural, but so was pride.
The dark angels were no succubi, even if they were sometimes called forth to ske lust. That was more a power py, a show of strength to prove a man, or woman, capable of subduing one safely. They were powerful warriors, one and all. Entire orders of monks studied for their entire lives in the hope of becoming Erinyes, and to see one reduced to this would of course excite a man like Labeo. She was special, desirable, irrepceable, better than anything he could get on his own merits… and she would tear him apart if she could.
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My dear Lord and Lady Aumaxa,
Rejoice, for I have excellent news. I will be returning to the proud shores of the Infernal Empire by early Neth, and hope to see you if time might be spared. If the Infernus makes good time, I may already be there when you receive this letter. Of course, there is always the chance of deys when sailing through pirate territory. I will be in Westcrown for a few months, awaiting a new post upon the Stygian.
I chose the ship carefully when I requested a transfer, so do not worry that I am to serve under another lowborn captain. Captain Endymion is quite the rising star, even drawing the eye of Lyserius Thrune. If I am able to serve under a proper fighting captain, I may earn enough prize money to purchase an estate in one of the colonies.
In addition, Endymion is said to be a gentleman by temperament if not by birth, and quite happily married. I would relish reporting to a man unlikely to make unsolicited advances upon my person. Make no mistakes, I have come to an understanding with Captain Labeo. I simply hope to meet a man that would understand I am a respectable woman without any prompting.
Though this was not the path we once hoped for, I hope that you are still proud. My condition, for all it robbed us of my first dream, grants me time to build a new path. Indeed, should my investments prove successful I might be able to perform again. I may need to build the stage with my own blood and sweat, but there are worse ways to spend one’s fortune than founding a new opera house. Would you believe less than half of the ports I’ve been to in Garund have a single theater worthy of the name? Truly shameful.
Give Minelda and Umberto my love, and ask Cadmus if I might have a chance to see them during my leave. Being an aunt is at its most enjoyable with children, and I worry I may have already missed them at their most delightful.
Love and Honor,
Morale Officer Sosima Aumaxa
The Infernus
This letter never reached house Aumaxa.
