The Lore of Sorcerer Ming of the Secret
The Flame in the Night
There is a saying in the Order of the Secret Fire, that the coldest of nights are survived only by the strongest of flames. If there is any truth at all to that maxim, then the fire of Ming must indeed be a powerful one to survive that night. For it had been many years since the Steppe saw a night so cold as the one on which Ming came into this world. It was said on that night in December that breath froze in the air, birds fell midflight, burdened by ice on their wings, and even the roaring falls of the tumultuous River Rone froze deep.
In that blizzard, the mighty sorceress Milda of the Sacred Flame fled the Red Tower to protect her unborn child from the wrath of the council. For Milda had broken a sacrosanct rule in consorting with the Stable Master, Ming of the Hoof, a common man with no known magical prowess. They hoped they could mask her unborn child’s unsanctioned heritage, but rumor that Ming was the father of her child reached the council’s ears, nonetheless. Of all nights, the night her child was to be born, the night of the strongest blizzard in memory, Milda was left with no choice but to flee, or face a tribunal and certain death. Ming and Milda grabbed what they could and made for the stables as quickly and quietly as possible. Ming chose Firebrand, the fastest horse in the stable, threw together what provisions he could, and they set out to find safety for their family.
Yet, the eye of the Order is ever watchful, and they were seen crossing the courtyard to the open gate. As they urged the horse forward, it seemed they might escape the grasp of the council guard unscathed. The snow fell in droves around them, mercifully giving them cover for their retreat. Suddenly three of the dreaded elite tower guards loomed from the shadows at the open gate, brandishing the enchanted bows that had protected Milda’s comfortable life at the tower. In that moment she realized the irony that such a terrible weapon would now be turned against her at her moment of most dire need. One of the shadowed figures nocked an arrow, drew it back and let fly as the arrow burst into flame in flight, striking Ming squarely in the chest. He collapsed off the horse, lifeless. There was no time for Milda to help him, for the shadowy figure had already nocked another arrow and as Milda’s horse closed the distance between, she knew she could act only now to protect her child. She summoned a fireball to blind her foes, distracting them from their vicious incantation. Though the arrow could not now burst into flame, but it found its mark and struck Milda in her side. Another long second passed and she was through the gate, thundering into the frigid tempest.
The steed carried her swiftly and silently through the mounding snow, and her silhouette faded against the white out of the storm, out of the council’s site but of course not out of their mind. Calling upon all her knowledge of the Secret Fire to keep them warm and to light their way, Milda came to the frozen River Rone, and thought “do I risk crossing? Surely the bridge will be watched by agents of the council.” She looked up at the sky, the arrow still throbbing in her side, and through the droves of snow she thought she glimpsed the Rune of the Sun, even at night. She took that as a sign that the Secret Fire was with her and her child, and she set out across the ice. She reached the other side and held her course along the river until she came to a cabin with a single dim light in the window. She was reluctant to trust their fate to whoever was in that cabin but knew there was not much time left before the child would be born. Worse, the effects of her wound weighed heavily on her. She would have to risk the kindness of the stranger at this cabin along the river. She dismounted her horse, knocked on the door and was greeted by a disheveled man holding a healing staff accompanied by a small blue river rat.
She stumbled through the doorway, barely able to stand on her own feet as the pangs of birth took her. “Don’t let them find me…” she stammered as the cabin grew dim. The stranger propped her up and sent the river rat to prepare a cot for her. She laid down on the cot, the arrow still in her side. “I don’t know who would be after you on a night like this” the stranger said, “but I will tell no one you are here. I am Brutus of the Riviera, and I am a healer. I will do what I can to help you and your child.”
Entered by: 0x239a…daBc and preserved on chain (see transaction)
