Chapter 9
Nine
A growing sense of unease spread through Ren as she began to unravel the mansion's – and its occupants' – mysterious past. Documents filled a vast library, and ancient portraits stared back at her from the walls in nearly every corridor. The subjects in each bearing a striking resemblance to the three brothers, their eyes filled with many millennia of secrets.
The chilling bones of the mansion whispered tales of its past. Tales that set Ren's spine tingling with nervous anticipation. Her thoughts ran rampant with the possibilities of these men really being the same ones hung up along the walls.
Ren sniffed the cool air that always seemed to carry a faint hint of old blood, foul and sinister, a constant reminder of the brothers' dark sustenance.
Though the brothers themselves began to share fragments of their history, tales filled with bloodshed, power, and betrayal, they never really admitted that any of the stories they spoke of were about them. They rather presented each as a history shared over the centuries by their ancestors.
As she explored the texts in the library, Ren discovered that the brothers were older than most stories people knew, much older.
Somehow she was able to read the majority of the old tattered ledgers, leaflets, and scrolls that she opened. The ancient arcane text read as clearly as modern English as she ran her finger along the obscure alphabetic symbols. Though some of the manuscripts were surely older than the invention of modern paper, she was able to handle each without causing any significant damage.
These items were irrevocable proof that these men were in fact titans of war and bloodshed, treacherous and conniving.
She spent many hours skimming before Ren was certain of what she was seeing. She found they had gone by many names over the centuries as they spilled blood to build their kingdom of bones. Through all the drawings, the descriptions, these three men seemed to seldomly be seen together. In fact in many cases, they were spotted scattered across the globe as world changing events unfolded around them.
What she discovered were traitors, punished to hunger for all eternity, for the nefarious reputations of their lives. An ancient piece of tapestry depicted a story of their evil creation,
Ren was sure of it. The depiction showed some horrifying sort of blood ritual, men cloaked in crimson stained white tunics, others in hooded black cloaks. There were beasts of a violent nature turned inside out, dissected with their internal organs strewn about in the most vile fashion. Men, it seems, are the monsters that bred the nightmares Ren was trapped with in this hell.
Bastian was in fact once known as Judas Iscariot, the traitor to Jesus himself. But was first known as Ephialtes of Trachis, the traitor to the 300 Spartans at the battle of Thermopylae. Grayson was most famously recognizable from Caesar's last words “Et tu Brute” when he killed him as Marcus Junius Brutus, but was also older like Bastian. His first persona being that of Alcibiades Cleiniou Scambonides, a wildly cunning political force who made enemies everywhere he went. The proof was all in this hidden library that Ren found herself in.
As it turned out Callum was also involved in the plot to murder Caesar as its primary orchestrator Gaius Cassius Longinus. But while he plotted for the end of Caesar’s tyranny, Grayson in his former role as Brutus, let Marc Antony ascend to the throne, dissuading Callum as Cassius from committing that murder as well.
This put Rome back under tyrannical rule, and as much was the case with his original persona in the guise of Themistocles, when he was first born.
It seems unlike his brothers, Callum was treasonous more through speculative slander than actual crime. The most shocking aspect of this was that Callum was apparently also the Jesus that performed “miracles” as it were. And though his brothers plotted against him, more blood had been spilled over the depiction of this version of Callum than both his brothers combined. He had been seen walking on water, and moving crippled men to walk. His compulsion was quite powerful even then, though he didn’t use it nearly as often now as his brothers do theirs.
The texture of the antique parchment of their journals felt like age-old skin under Ren's fingertips, each page filled with elegantly written descriptions of their countless years.
Ren found herself curling up in the settee with a crystal goblet of the single bottle of wine she found standing on a silver platter. Though the vintage was old, it wasn’t nearly as old as anything else in the room. A french red madeira from 1845, the label peeling slightly and turned yellow with age adorned the green glass bottle.
The aroma of the wine that was already uncorked previously filled the room once the stopper was pulled from the mouth of the bottle. Ren’s mouth watered for a sip of such exquisite wine.
The taste of vintage wine on her lips served as a distracting counterpart to the bitter truths revealed in the pages of their lives. The hint of dark chocolate and bitter acidity from such an old vintage was almost overpowering, but the finish was smooth.
She tucked her legs under herself with the thickest and oldest book from the table, the glass of red in her hand and the book rested easily on her lap and read page after page.