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The Story of Braith	By : CinnabarCrow Category: +M through R > Pillars of Eternity Views: 2001 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pillars of Eternity and am not profiting from this story

Chapter List
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She opened her eyes and took note of her surroundings. She was lying on a bed in what must have been an inn room. Her eyes traced the wood grain in the ceiling boards above her. Was this Gilded Vale? Her memories of the past few days—or was it weeks?—she had no idea how long she had been lying on this bed—were hazy. Had she been dreaming? No, she was alone that much was certain. Her former travelling companions were nowhere to be seen. Surely they must be dead. Dead. Was she dead? No. She flexed her toes and felt the stiffness in her limbs. Her body was very much alive. But had she died? Her memory drifted back to recent events. The man in the mask and headdress. The strange machine in the ruins. Had she merely imagined it all? No, the sight of her dead companions, lying in positions of contorted agony, burned vividly in her memory. She alone had survived. Though, it seemed, not unchanged.
She moved to sit up and her limbs, stiff from lack of use, protested painfully. “My wounds?” She looked down at her body. Her limbs and torso were covered in bandages and another strip of cloth wrapped around the side of her head. “Was I that badly injured? Someone bandaged my wounds?” She strained to remember but could not recall the details. She spotted an article of clothing neatly folded on top of a wooded chest of drawers across from her bed. “It must be for me.” Carefully, so as not to fall, she crossed the short distance and began to dress. As she fitted the robe over her head she noticed that someone had braided her hair. The robe appeared to be a wizard’s, fine indigo-dyed Aedryan cotton. A man’s robe. She pushed up the sleeves. It appeared to be well-cared for though the threadbare patches indicated that it had clearly seen much use. She felt touched at the generosity of this unknown wizard. The hem was a little too long. Instinctively she looked around for her knapsack only to find it at the foot of the bed. She fetched it and produced a length of hempen robe which she used to tie up the hem of her robe. Good old rope. Her favorite accessory. She felt a slight comfort at its familiar coarse texture. No shoes. She looked down at her bandaged feet. Maybe she would be able to find some later. Picking up her knapsack she started to check the room for any remaining belongings.
At that moment a young man entered. He fidgeted with his sleeve. “I am glad to see you have awoken. You really gave me a start when you fainted three days ago.”
“I…don’t recall.” She stammered awkwardly. Her hands clenched around her knapsack until her knuckles turned white.
The young man’s face softened at her apparent discomfort. “You’ve clearly been through a lot. Please don’t push yourself.”
She looked at him quizzically. “This is yours isn’t it?” She gestured to the robe. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
The young man took a step toward her. “You needed help. And I owed you my life after you rescued me from a band of local drunkards. Once you are well again I will be eager to be out of this place.” His pained expressed indicated that he had not enjoyed his stay in Gilded Vale.
“I take it Gilded Vale isn’t the haven it was purported to be?”
“No…unless you fancy watered-down ale and executions. They don’t take kindly to Aedryans here either.” He nodded in her direction. “If you’ll forgive my saying so, I couldn’t help but notice that your speech and mannerisms are not those of a Dyrwoodan villager. You are a countrywoman, yes?”
“Ah…that is correct.” She wrung her hands and cast her gaze at the floor.
“My apologies. I should not be interrogating you so.” He took a step back. “I am Aloth. I thought that as we were both far from home we might share the road together.” He clasped his hands and gave her an encouraging smile.
“…Of course. I would enjoy the company. I am Braith.” She gave a weak smile.
“Braith? Not the Braith of the royal family?” Aloth eyed her with a mixture of awe and surprise.
Braith winced. “Yes, the very same. I ran away from everything. My arranged marriage. My haemneg with the ferscönyng.” Her face took on a pained, yet determined expression. “I was a natural cipher. Ever since I was a girl I felt the ebb and flow of other souls around me. Whether I wanted to or not…” Her hands formed tight fists. “How could I let myself become mecwyn when I felt the lash of every whip on every slave’s back? The hunger pangs of every small child? I had a duty to my family—to our empire—yes, but surely my gift gave me a duty toward the destitute.” Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. “I love our homeland. I always will. But I realized that I cannot serve her as mecwyn. I cannot so elevate myself from those who suffer the most, I must walk amongst them to alleviate their suffering.”
Aloth stood speechless for a moment and a then a faint smile crossed his lips. “Spoken as only a true héamecwyn.” He gave a curt bow.
Braith shot him a dirty look. “I rejected that title. It would have gone to my younger sister. She is mecwyn now and I am merely a commoner.”
Braith took a step toward the door. “Now that I’ve told you my story, won’t you enlighten me as to why you are so far from home?”
“Indeed. I suppose it is better to have something to discuss over what passes for food in this mud hole.”
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The Story of Braith