Once we could not leave and now we cannot leave. Once there was a threat that was Other, and now we are Other. Once, outside the tall walls of gold, there was an enemy we could not best. Those who came in the time before the masks dealt with strange powers. They vowed their children’s souls and their children’s children’s souls in exchange for protection against this threat, and bounty and plenty for those inside the walls. They were glad to end the threat without loss of their own lives; and if their children did not have souls, they thought this meant death. And dead things cannot have children.
Their children did not die, though their parents wished they had. They were born feral and remained feral. Mindless creatures who knew no law and knew no peace savaged those inside the city who had made their bargain. In its time, feral begat feral. An epidemic was at hand.
Though none had entered or left the golden cities since the bargain was struck, a stranger came into one of the honeycomb cities. He wore a hood and mask. The mask was black and silver; it made his face a half-moon grin. He offered the art of masks to those who had struck the bargain. Masks that could keep folk sane, though it could not restore their senses if they were lost. Masks that could give their children their souls. The folk clamored for this secret. When they learned it, they gagged in the streets and in their homes.
For many, wearing a living, wriggling creature with suckers and thorns all on it on one’s face was worse than feral insanity or death. Others were yet pregnant or had young children. When told that any child over the age of ten would suffer the madness, many of these folk made their bargain with the half-moon man. They became the first forebearers by whose skill we retain sanity today.
The skill of masking is rare but invaluable. Few can harvest the materials; blindness helps, but not every blind person has the abstract ability to create the masks. Those who can do this sit at the head of our cities’ houses. These allegiances are in the blood and soul; they pay no mind to city-state boundaries. Every member of a house pays respect to the house’s forebearer. One’s mask was made by this person, and if one has children, their masks will be made by this person, or their apprentice when they take the role.
If one offends a forebearer, that forebearer may refuse to mask one’s children. One may choose not to have children, or one might apply to another house for aid. However, a child masked by another house no longer belongs to its parents’ house, and such infidelity is not often tolerated. A forebearer may even send word to have one’s own mask destroyed. If one is not taken in by another house, one will go feral. There is no second chance, second mask, from a single house.
If a forebearer dies without an apprentice of the house, then that is the end of that house. The masked members of that house live out their natural spans, of course, but any unmasked children go feral, as do any children masked members bear. They might appeal to other houses to take in their children. In such an event, the typical custom is to marry into other houses; then one’s children can more easily be masked by the forebearer of one’s new house. There have been occasions of rogue forebearers creating their own houses by forcibly interfering with the masking process. Most of the time we of the First Estate exterminate the false house, but at least one large house owes its origins to a forebearer with foul intentions.
Everyone wears a mask. It is the way of things, but those who refused the rite of the mask in the beginning stayed vigilant later. From the mask-wearing masses, they recruited help. We, the descendants of those recruits, know the truth of our masks and of the world. We are the First Estate. We are the people whose existence is whispered by the idle masses. We are the torches who spread not knowledge, but ignorance. Those who know too much are a danger to themselves and to our world. It is better that they should lose themselves in mindless sport and games than to know the harsh reality and endanger the cities. The moment that sealed the sealed cities’ fate was not the contract. It was the masks. Now that we wear parts of abominations on our faces, the ire of those same creatures would be immeasurable if our eldritch protection were to lapse.
Their children did not die, though their parents wished they had. They were born feral and remained feral. Mindless creatures who knew no law and knew no peace savaged those inside the city who had made their bargain. In its time, feral begat feral. An epidemic was at hand.
Though none had entered or left the golden cities since the bargain was struck, a stranger came into one of the honeycomb cities. He wore a hood and mask. The mask was black and silver; it made his face a half-moon grin. He offered the art of masks to those who had struck the bargain. Masks that could keep folk sane, though it could not restore their senses if they were lost. Masks that could give their children their souls. The folk clamored for this secret. When they learned it, they gagged in the streets and in their homes.
For many, wearing a living, wriggling creature with suckers and thorns all on it on one’s face was worse than feral insanity or death. Others were yet pregnant or had young children. When told that any child over the age of ten would suffer the madness, many of these folk made their bargain with the half-moon man. They became the first forebearers by whose skill we retain sanity today.
The skill of masking is rare but invaluable. Few can harvest the materials; blindness helps, but not every blind person has the abstract ability to create the masks. Those who can do this sit at the head of our cities’ houses. These allegiances are in the blood and soul; they pay no mind to city-state boundaries. Every member of a house pays respect to the house’s forebearer. One’s mask was made by this person, and if one has children, their masks will be made by this person, or their apprentice when they take the role.
If one offends a forebearer, that forebearer may refuse to mask one’s children. One may choose not to have children, or one might apply to another house for aid. However, a child masked by another house no longer belongs to its parents’ house, and such infidelity is not often tolerated. A forebearer may even send word to have one’s own mask destroyed. If one is not taken in by another house, one will go feral. There is no second chance, second mask, from a single house.
If a forebearer dies without an apprentice of the house, then that is the end of that house. The masked members of that house live out their natural spans, of course, but any unmasked children go feral, as do any children masked members bear. They might appeal to other houses to take in their children. In such an event, the typical custom is to marry into other houses; then one’s children can more easily be masked by the forebearer of one’s new house. There have been occasions of rogue forebearers creating their own houses by forcibly interfering with the masking process. Most of the time we of the First Estate exterminate the false house, but at least one large house owes its origins to a forebearer with foul intentions.
Everyone wears a mask. It is the way of things, but those who refused the rite of the mask in the beginning stayed vigilant later. From the mask-wearing masses, they recruited help. We, the descendants of those recruits, know the truth of our masks and of the world. We are the First Estate. We are the people whose existence is whispered by the idle masses. We are the torches who spread not knowledge, but ignorance. Those who know too much are a danger to themselves and to our world. It is better that they should lose themselves in mindless sport and games than to know the harsh reality and endanger the cities. The moment that sealed the sealed cities’ fate was not the contract. It was the masks. Now that we wear parts of abominations on our faces, the ire of those same creatures would be immeasurable if our eldritch protection were to lapse.
Comments
Post a Comment