It was late afternoon in the cosmopolitan apartment in the fashionable district of the city of Jade. Therein stood Tidus, son of Danton, lord of House Bandrovic, scowling angrily at his white silk evening shirt. The ruffle on the collar displeased him very much now that he could take the time to examine it. He’d bought the thing back at home in Flaerlon, and had forgotten how…foppish it looked. Unacceptable. Only a few minutes before, he’d sent his servants out in an extremely ungentlemanly manner and was now standing alone, embarrassed and on the edge of panic for not having the proper shirt.
Not bothering to reassure himself that his servants had been sent to procure a cotton, ‘cres-collar’ shirt from the local tailor, Tidus sat heavily in his chair and stared out the window at the sun setting over the sea. Lady Adele Sigata had sent a bottle of the fine, spicy Southern wine and a further invitation to meet her that night in the estate’s lush gardens. He felt ill. Even assuming that she had either not noticed or chosen to ignore his behavior and loss of control, it had still happened and to see her again so soon made him feel like a child who’d wet his pants and been seen.
As if he’d even get a chance to discuss business with her! Doubtless some rag-tag pack of barbarians or scoundrels would sweep in to mar the scene with callous language or their offensive odor. Tidus sighed as he thought back to the events of the past afternoon. He’d gone to the coliseum on a whim, and had been treated with the chance to observe Lord Sigata speaking with that Dragon-man, gambler, whatever. He looked a rouge, and though his knowledge of court decorum and flowery language had won him Adele’s favor, Tidus had doubted it would get him very far with the lord. But then, he’d been wrong. Lord Sigata was impressed by the wolfish man who spoke circuitously of vague ‘business dealings’ and had invited him to a drink at his convenience.
It rankled him deeply and he felt his upper lip begin to curl into a sneer. Being alone, however, he indulged himself and let the emotion fill him. Here he was, Lord Bandrovic, upon whom the members of his house and even the financial fate of his entire region rested, the lap-dog spy-man puppet of an ex-courtesan! While he was running errands for the lady, his rivals were earning the trust and business of the lord. Feeling the need and flowing with it, Tidus leapt from his chair and kicked it across the room. Peasants and barbarians, all of them! Here he was, blessed with wealth, power, intelligence, status; everything any man could want, and still, it was to the mammoth, drooling-dullard, thick-necks that the women and men of influence flocked! As if they were the only ones who could use a sword, indeed!
His own rapier hung by his bed, and Tidus resisted the urge to draw it and damage something. Called the finest fencer in the valley, here he was small fish compared to the braying giants who swaggered about the city, brawling and taking whatever they wanted. Those fool nobles let them, too, he reflected.
Abruptly, he turned to look at himself in the mirror. Brushing the night-black hair away from his forehead, Tidus felt the power surge through him and stared in unabashed pride at the mark of the sun’s zenith on his own brow. Well, let the battle-monsters swing at each other and fall to blood over their prizes; he was a chosen son of the Unconquered Sun, that much he remembered, and anyone foolish enough to underestimate Tidus, son of Danton, lord of House Bandrovic was in for a nasty shock.
The righteous rage built in him until he could no longer stand it, and gave in to the sweet release of Essence. Now, there seemed a handsome, sharp, lord of power and sorcery fixing the world opposite the reflection with a powerful gaze. Behind him raged the Dark Storm that gave him his self-appointed moniker. His breath came hard and fast as his whispered deeply,
“I am Lord Tidus Bandrovic, the Unrelenting Storm!”
Mid-winter, the city of Flaerlon, House Bandrovic’s annual Merchant Ball, more than ten years past.
The young man, perhaps twenty years of age, sipped merrily from a glass of wine and walked over to the well-dressed boy standing by the desert table.
“Go ahead, Tiger, have some cake!” and he chuckled.
The boy, Tidus Bandrovic when he was fourteen, scowled nervously at his cousin. “I do not want any cake, thank you, Marchion.”
Marchion arched an eyebrow. “Not enjoying yourself?” and draped an arm carelessly over his young cousin’s shoulders.
“I am having a very pleasant time. However, I am doing so over here, alone. Why don’t you go find your betrothed and engage the widow Lady Yonas in sparkling conversation concerning that delightful little rat, er, dog of hers?”
“Heh heh, touché, Tiger, touché! I simply don’t understand how you can dedicate yourself to being so miserably serious all the time. Why, the snow’s falling fit to beat outside, but in here, it’s warm and smells of meat and wine...” he continued talking, but Tidus had ceased to hear him.
A young girl about his age with golden-red hair and wearing a shining purple dress had entered the dance hall with two slightly older girls. Her skin was fair and flawless, eyes glistening and sweet, and her figure was showing her to be soon a woman. Tidus felt his heart stop and swallowed against his dry throat.
“Eh?” his cousin asked, noticing the boy wasn’t listening.
“March, who is she? She’s beautiful?” Tidus whispered in awe.
“Who? In the purple?” Marchion asked, “why, that’s Tatiana Syiansan, daughter of Lord Gregor of House Syiansan.”
Beads of sweat rising at his hairline and pricking up all over his body, Tidus nodded. House Syiansan was a local merchant house, dwarfed in power and influence by House Bandrovic, but Lord Gregor was good friends with Lord Danton, Tidus’ father.
“O-ho!” laughed the young man when Tidus didn’t answer. “You sweet on her?”
“P-perhaps you’ve have too much wine,” Tidus offered, not taking his eyes off her.
Tatiana laughed at something one of the other girls had said and swept over to one of the tables that lined the dance hall walls. Every move seemed smooth, like silk in the dark on the most secret of nights, yet as innocent and lifting as a child at play in the meadow. As he watched her, he felt time slowing and the air becoming thick. This had begun to happen frequently when he paid attention to people, their actions, and nuances. It was like he was drunk and the room was spinning with some unfelt dance.
“Well then, why don’t you ask her for the next waltz?” and without waiting for a response, Marchion dragged Tidus by the hand towards Tatiana’s table.
“My dear cousin!” he protested tightly, panicked.
The girl looked up then, and seeing the two, a smile, like the sun, shone on her face. Her two friends giggled and hid their mouths in their hands. For a moment, Tidus was terrified and felt as a child who’d wet his pants and been seen by the little girls in the courtyard. It was almost as if he needed to look down to reassure himself that he was still wearing pants.
“M-miss Syiansan,” he began, halting in horror as his voice cracked nervously, “w-would you care for the next waltz?” and gave a hurried, courtly bow.
“To dance? How lovely!” Her voice, ah, bells dipped in honey.
Tidus and Tatiana spun around the floor with the waltz, and the music flowed like wine over them, the other dancers, guests, and all the dance hall in the Bandrovic mansion. He remembered her smell, jasmine, and that her skin was soft when she put her face against his. Forever, the boy Tidus whirled about the polished marble floor in a state of absolute and unadulterated bliss.
What was it about a woman that she could turn a man to a boy with the wave of her hand? Alone on one of the side-streets of Jade in early evening, Tidus narrowed his eyes and shoved his hand in his pockets.
He’d bathed and dressed and gone to call on Lady Adele Sigata only to be sent away by the servant, telling him that the lady of the house had gone out earlier with Mr. Grael, and did he wish to leave his name that he had called? Declining to do so, he flashed a polite smile to the servant and left. True, he had no right to be angry with her, after all, the invitation had not said that he should call that night, he’d merely assumed it meant to. Still, there was that feeling of rippling embarrassment, a man’s shame that only a woman can gift him with.
Tidus was in a foul mood, and fed it so that he imagined a dark cloud surrounded him and warned the rabble and barbarians to keep their distance. With an unexpected free night ahead of him, he was at a loss for entertainment or even a method to keep himself occupied. The rage in him desired a low-class whore who would fill him with pleasure while making him feel wonderfully dirty and rugged. However, the melancholy wanted drink until stupor, and the fool wanted to fight. The man who was Tidus sat atop the throne over all, insisting on using the evening to recruit potential business contacts or even keep his eyes out as he had been hired to do. The restless subjects of Tidus Bandrovic roared and overthrew the king, and so, he headed towards a brothel he’d been told of.
The two best things about a whore, Tidus reflected as he strolled down the street some hours later, was that one didn’t have to care about her, and she didn’t want to be cared about. All that mattered to her was the color of your jade and she would do whatever you wanted and never pass judgment. Now that he considered it, it was like a whore was a ‘safe’ woman who’d lost the power to strip away the careful protective veneer of a man. A lover, well, she had leverage over you, and in the end, you needed her, and she knew that. A whore knew that you only wanted her, and if you couldn’t have her, you’d have another like her. Simple, uncomplicated.
The thought struck him as his walked through the square, nearly forcing him to halt his steps: Adele was a courtesan, and a courtesan was a terrible, dangerous merger of a whore and lover. Powerful, yet at your command, needing you for her own purposes, but also knowing that you needed her and exploiting that. Yes! That was the reason he felt so...intimidated by her. Ah well, he sighed and continued walking, he’d do the job she wanted of him, perhaps benefit from it, and then continue on pursuing business relations with House Sigata as if nothing was wrong. Besides, it couldn’t be that there was a heart behind her, could it?
After the melancholy and fool each had his way, Tidus Bandrovic was lying face-up in a dirty alley in the pouring rain. The liquor was wearing off now, as was the usual with his heightened constitution, but the injuries still throbbed. He’d gotten smashingly, frighteningly drunk and gone to the coliseum and paid a gladiator to spar with him. True, the lord held his own, but in the end it had come to the two of them brawling unarmed in the soaking rain. How he’d reached the alley, Tidus did not know.
The warmth was the only clue to him that some of the water running down his face was tears. Shaking, he lifted a bruised and broken hand to his left cheek, letting his fingertips play over the scar on his numb face. The Unrelenting Storm cried out in misery and anguish, and the thunder of the storm over Jade roared with him.