Théodore

A towering steeple rises out of the shadow of the Basilica, the holy symbol of Freysia reaching toward the snow-shrouded sky of Augustine. Beyond its wrought iron gates are expansive grounds, that when one looks through they can see an immaculate courtyard. In its centre stands a fountain of a beautiful saint holding fast to a well-hewn man, his form emerging from the water. The devout would immediately recognise this symbolic image as Saint Erfyl baptising Vexil Severgin.

This storied estate belongs to the Lacratelle family, one of the thirteen major noble families of Athefast–part of their magic contributes to the barrier that surrounds Augustine, and they were the first to perform the ritual of baptising each saint in the waters of Lake Vexil. The Lacratelle family and its branches are responsible for observing and recording the maintenance and fluctuation of the Font in Lake Vexil. As such, each Lacratelle child is baptised in early adolescence to prepare and cleanse their body, and to know full well how demanding the ritual is.

As the eldest, Théodore de Lacratelle would be the heir to his family’s legacy. All that he ever needed to fulfill that role was found within the grounds within those wrought-iron gates. Of the two children born of the main branch, he was the exemplary one; quick-witted, charming and soft-spoken. Praised for his learning, he could hold discussions with the most important people in Athefast, despite them being more than twice his age.

This also made him a lonely child. While he dearly loved his younger sister, their differences in age stymied their interactions. Having exhausted what reading material he had on hand, he asked if he would be able to access the Lacratelle family’s personal archives. This honour, and perhaps only comfort in solitude, was given solely to Theodore well before it would have been expected of him.

Until one day, the window of his library shattered.

He picked up the ball lying among the shards of glass and looked out from the jagged window. Beyond the iron fence was a blond-haired youth, his eyes like steel. He called himself Konrad Kirchner. Knowing the meaning of that surname, Théodore questioned if he truly struck the ball from the Augean Convent's grounds. He doubted Konrad's claims, yet he could not discern any reason for him to lie. It would have meant the ball travelled well over four-hundred feet to reach his window: a feat he thought inconceivable by a boy his age.

From that day forward, he found a reason to venture beyond his family’s gates, even if it was only because he was intrigued by the boy from the convent. For the first time in his twelve years of living, he was allowed to experience a boyhood free of the burden of his legacy. In Konrad, he found a true and loyal friend.

Though his family foresaw him joining the Board of Saints for his future, this erstwhile aspiration was replaced with a promise to be the heart and blood of Athefast with Konrad–which resulted in joining Saxifrage Abbey with Konrad as his adjutant with explicit permission. To the surprise of his family, he did not focus on political or spiritual instruction, instead choosing to be a Holy Knight. His knowledge proved sufficient to supplement both him and Konrad—and though he would not admit it save to those closest to his heart, he could see plainly of Saxifrage’s indoctrination and how it would have poisoned his thinking.

In his noble peers, he saw the stigma between high-born and low-born, the abject cruelty and treatment of demi-humans as sub-human. Though he could easily argue rhetoric, he was keenly aware of the social climate as unfavourable to him as the one with a common-born youth at his side. The more he drew away from his noble peers, the more he turned towards Konrad to be his shining paragon of humanity and what was beautiful.

The natural corollary of this belief, and one Freysia would not wish to deny, was to feel more than dear affection for a friend. In the thick of adolescence, he could inexorably feel the shift from innocence of childhood to the undeniable reality of his attraction. He knew nothing could come of it; Konrad held no desire in man nor woman, no matter how cherished they were, no matter how devoted he was to them. To say nothing of how deeply irresponsible it would be to his family to not sire a heir, or for Harriet to shoulder that burden alone.

Yet his heart still yearned, and to give in would have proved less resistance. Their stations and Konrad’s unquestioning loyalty coaxed him to give into flesh and desire. Plagued by these unrelenting thoughts, Théodore realized that he was succumbing to something beyond him. His control over magic became unstable, and what was meant to be holy was instead a dark blight. He had read about this in his study of magic within his family’s library: demonic corruption, or more aptly, Umbral corruption.

Théodore knew he would die. No matter how calm and realistic he remained, he could not will himself to stop loving Konrad, or to see his noble peers as perverse and shamelessly estranged. The support of his closest friend could do nothing to mend this distress and panic, and it was only a matter of time before members of the Church or Commission would notice his affliction. He left Saxifrage Abbey without a word, seeking either a cure or his swift demise.

Apart from fervent prayer and other methods that proved uncertain in their efficacy, the other documented recourse for the devout was to be submerged in the waters of Lake Vexil. The shock of the frigid water would likely kill him or the effects of lake could incite a change to purge him of corruption. Using his family’s carekeeping of this sacred site as cover, in the dead of night he disrobed and sank into its depths, hoping to be erased of his existence.

Freysia may have punished him for his shame, though she did not give him over to death. Theodore instead found his saviour–strong arms enveloped him and pulled him out of the water, and he was resuscitated back to life, his airways removed of the water that chilled his lungs as he finally took breath. Beneath the cover of the stars, he saw the stoic face of who he loved, pure and immovably bright, twisted into grief. From then on, he knew that he would not be interested in anyone else in the same way—there would be no one else.

After this incident, his being was irrevocably changed. He saw the truth of the world, seeing the shapes of souls and the flow of mana within people. The drastic measures he took resulted in some loss of mobility and chronic neuralgia in his extremities, and he began to walk with the assistance of a cane.

While Théodore was not able to complete the physical examination of his military études, he was considered exempt due to physical injury. However, he proved he more than made up for this with his ability in tactical command, strategy, and leadership, which proved essential in his selection as an Inspector, where those talents would come to shine. Konrad as an Enforcer would ever be by his side to make up for his physical demerits, as they pulled back the pleura of fringe cases together, exposing corruption in the toughest cases that were left to the wayside in favour of pressuring Phoenix and quashing any demi-human subversion.

He did almost lose Konrad, once. Despite how supernaturally infallible his friend may have seemed, having Konrad take the fatal wound meant for him was akin to losing part of himself. No healing magic afforded to him or others was strong enough to keep Konrad alive—not for a common man, at least. Théodore worked tirelessly with the head family chirurgeons, keeping Konrad alive by whatever means necessary as he searched for an answer on how to restore his heart back to beating. Using the annals of the Lacratelle’s medical knowledge, he used his own hands to replace the cavity with a mechanical heart of his own making. When Konrad regained consciousness, Théodore was by his bedside, asleep from exhaustion, his hand firmly holding onto Konrad’s as though praying to Freysia for a miracle.

After years of service, there were two candidates in the selection of the Chief Inspector: one being Théodore for solving and rooting out heresy in extremely difficult cases few would take on, or another Inquisitor who had subjugated a number of Phoenix cells and silenced events of dissent single-handedly. The position went to Theodore, who was deemed to be more suitable to the role of Chief Inspector for assisting and guiding others with decision-making. In truth, Théodore was already keenly aware of the schism that the Inquisition faced in philosophy, and he confirmed it with his last meeting of his former chief before she vacated the position.

As Inspectors have a large degree of freedom in how they operate, he cannot solely change the nature of the Inquisition at will, nor what individual Inspectors choose to pursue. He is aware that his position as Chief Inspector would only cast further scrutiny from others, and that he occupies a dangerous philosophy that would only make more enemies than it would allies. Yet perhaps he would find hope that others still believed in the betterment of humanity, however few.