To Take a Name

The Foedus didn’t know how to throw a party. All pomp and no circumstance. A melding of Names should be an intimate occasion, each one changed histories and blood and bone after all. At the very least they could've found some better wine.

Salvus extended out the nearly-full crystal goblet, held gingerly between thick thumb and forefinger. An attendant swooped past as though skating on ice, replacing the goblet with a dainty pastry. She was a Cupio, by the look of those feet. 

Salvus frowned. According to others, the Cupio lacked any real mechanism beyond party tricks. To have the ability to see a flash of desire in another’s mind but be unable to pry any deeper left them to be subservient. There intuition had been bred with lesser Names to glide about unheard and unseen. But Salvus saw them. Beautiful and eager to serve. Lowered to attendants and consorts to more powerful Names. Like the Foedus.

Teres, Salvus’ eldest son, danced across the floor, a tall and shining beacon of the Medax Name. His newly blackened hair - its color changed so often he had forgotten its original color - bounced softly as he moved. He resembled the Cupio, or perhaps a Saltare, with the way he slid across the floor with no faults in his steps, no hesitation in his maneuvers. He may have been happy with such a Name - with any Name at all - but whether he wanted it or not, Teres held more important Names now.

At the far edge of the room, a group of Foedus, grey and crisp, cornered a trembling Opifex, one who had helped construct tonight’s necessities. They amused themselves by asking intrusive questions, knowing he would have no option but to answer truthfully. Perversions and secrets exposed at every mere request. After they had their fill, the Foedus laughed, slapping the Opifex on the back and placing a tall glass of wine in his hands. 

The Opifex caught Salvus’ gaze, frowned and set his jaw. He darted out of the ballroom, depositing the glass in a passing Cupio’s hand, shutting the doors swiftly behind him.

“Enjoying the festivities?” a voice, smooth and structured, slid from a sharp-jawed man in a crisp, grey uniform. A soft tug of compulsion accompanied the words.

Salvus ran his tongue across the roof of his mouth and out, curling it down to wet his lips before shoving the pastry into his mouth. 

“A wondrous time! Quite the party,” Salvus said through a stuffed cheek. “I hold the Name Salvus Medax. I’m assuming you are Decius Foedus, yes? A pleasure to finally meet.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, Salvus Medax. The pleasure is mine,” Decius said, his wide mouth permanently set in a polite smile. “Those of your Name are woefully unknown to us. During our mediation, I inquired into the origins of the Medax but nothing of consequence came up. An oddity to be sure!”

A question without a question. Aww, Decius was being polite.

“Well, our origins aren’t so notable when compared to that of the Foedus,” Salvus offered, appended with a breathy chuckle. “We were sired from insignificant lands near the Calor Colles.”

“Calor Colles, you say?” The tug was softer here, the compulsion seemingly depending on the intensity of the question.

“You know of it?”

“Our family had arrangements with the Dissimi who claimed those hills,” Decius explained, mouth bending into an uneven frown. “They had a Nameless problem. The godless things pillaged their territories for years before we negotiated the loan of our armies. Alas, they fell to the filth after the loan had reached its end. I suppose it was difficult with a Name like theirs. Hard to stop pillaging with mere glamours and illusion.” Decius polished his fingernails on the jacket of his uniform.

The muscles in Salvus’ jaw worked. “Difficult for certain. I remember the day the Dissimi Name fell. We, too, left our lands behind that day.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Salvus. Were there commonalities within your Names?”

“Surely,” Salvus smiled. “While not pure, all Medax blood still holds the Dissimi Name.”

“Rumor is true, then. All Medax adopt a new Name when blood is married? Does it not pain you to see former Names drift away, their power siphoned with each new one taken?”

“It is tradition that our family takes Names as one. It binds us together so we may remember who we are. We are but a small family compared to others.”

Decius’ gaze scanned neatly across the room. Grey uniforms outnumbered black nearly twelve to one. The Medax family clamored about the hall, grabbing goblets from silvered plates and pastries from neatly stacked towers.

“It would seem so,” Decius asked, his attention returning to Salvus. “A small but generous house, indeed. The Foedus rarely interface with Names that we don’t know but your offers were…overly convincing.”

“Oh?” Salvus plucked another pastry from a passing platter, a tiny coin-sized tart with some sort of berry jam on top. He pushed it into his mouth with a finger and then rubbed the crumbs from his hands. “How so?”

Decius seemed taken aback by the question, or perhaps the familiarity in tone. “You do realize that your proposal was quite one-sided, no?” 

“My boy wanted a beautiful bride,” Salvus replied, eyeing Teres as he danced with a slender woman with a neat, angular face, her grey dress shimmering under the lights. “I ensure I’m gaining much more than you are. You can’t put a price on love.”

Decius’ jaw slackened.

“Everything alright, Decius? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ahem - yes,” Decius pulled his mouth closed and flattened the front of his uniform. “I apologize for my lack of decorum…I’m just a bit surprised. As Foedus, our words are binding. Our contracts are unbreakable. I simply meant to say that typically more negotiation is involved.” 

“We Medax are an aloof bunch.”

“Yes, as my daughter has reminded me every day since meeting Teres.” Decius eyed his daughter with all the exasperation of a father giving into his daughter’s whims. “That being said, ‘being aloof’ is a rather whimsical way of saying fiscally irresponsible. Is your Name to be destitute after taking my daughter and her Name?”

“What about the deal discomforts you greatly?”

“For one thing, you offered 80% of your coffers, Salvus.”

“It’s just money,” Salvus shrugged, waving a plump hand to a passing Cupio, who delivered him a glass of deep, mahogany whiskey. 

A Suo - one Salvus knew well, who held the forename of Jax - called for the ceremony to progress. Teres and Fidea, his bride-to-be, stepped hand-in-hand up to the Blood Stitcher. There, the Suo would stain the Foedus Name upon Teres. 

“Selfishly, I just want to know your train of thought,” Decius continued blathering, “You gave us uninhibited military access through your territories, even if you have not dictated your stance in a conflict. You’re to give us full access to the Medax Histories, as well as your personal stake in the Chrysalis mines. The only non-negotiable you gave us was a peace pact spanning only five years - which is rather standard, I would say, for a Melding. Respectfully, Salvus, it’s rather dumbfounding that —”

“Have you ever been in love, Decius?” Salvus interrupted, breath wet from a sip of whiskey.

“We Foedus have an open approach to marriage. Not everyone can handle the form of candor our Name pulls forth,” Decius explained, watching his daughter extend an arm for the Suo to draw blood from. “My daughter is an exception to this, of course, in spite of my advice.”

 “Fidea is a wonderful match for my son. I’ve come to know her well these past months. She has a kind heart, using her compulsions with compassion and understanding. There are no secrets between them and yet their love blossoms still. Perhaps such a thing is beyond your comprehension.”

Decius frowned deeply. “And what of you? Where is your wife?” The compulsion dripped from his lips.

“Long dead, I’m afraid,” Salvus sighed, eyes glossy with memories. “She was a mother to all of Medax. She changed my family into something more. Something beautiful.”

Decius exhaled a chuckle, tickled with disbelief. “Mm. And what Name did she provide you to be such a boon?”

Atop the dais, the Suo had begun to stitch the Foedus Name, a series of complex runes and markings, across a length of skin on Teres’ forearm with blood and holy ink.

The Medax across the room bared teeth, a primal and hungry smile.

Salvus too smiled, for once leaning into the compulsion that he could so easily dismiss. “She did not have one.”

Decius snapped his attention to Salvus, eyes narrowing with uncertainty. “You’re saying your wife was Nameless?”

Salvus finished his whiskey in a smooth gulp, discarding the glass on a passing platter. “The Medax family land was relatively small when I was a boy. Cornered by mountains beside the Dessimi statehood and the Nameless reaches. One day, in my youth, I found a girl stealing bread from one of our storerooms.”

“You did not answer my question, Salvus,” Decius said, the trembles of anxiety and confusion beginning to pull at his face. “Was your wife Nameless?”

The compulsion hit Salvus like a gale of wind - and then slid right off.

“Tut-tut, I’m not done with my story,” Salvus mocked, waving a finger at Decius before continuing. “Noone wanted to be associated with a Name such as ours. But this girl held no care for my abilities or my status. We ate bread by the baskets and swam in mountain watering holes. We came to love one another.”

“You filth,” Decius spat. “Stop the ceremony!”

The demand was drowned by cheers and clapping as the Suo stitched the final marking of the Name across Teres’ arm. Black uniforms slid from muscled shoulders as the Medax removed their overcoats, leaving them in the sleeveless undershirts they wore beneath.

“For years, we ran about in secret,” Salvus continued, spinning the golden band that still lingered on his finger. “On the night my father died, leaving me to be Princeps of our Name, I married her.”

“Foedus! We are leaving!” Decius called to his men, who began to look around bewildered.

The Medax family took slow steps forward.

“Princeps! The doors are locked!” a man in grey shouted from the back of the room.

“Break them down, you fools!” Decius ordered.

“We can’t! It looks like it’s been sealed by an Opifex!” the man replied, straining against the immovable doors.

“Her family was a rowdy bunch,” Salvus continued explaining, closing in on Decius until he backed himself into a sprawling table. “But they treated me like they had always known me. We had dinners and parties in the fields around their homes and it was wonderful.”

A Cupio approached with a platter of silverware, light glinting off the silver of the knives. Decius’ eyes grew wide with terror.

“But all good things must end, hm?” Salvus hummed, plucking a knife from the platter and turning it this way and that. “My wife had left Teres with me and gone to visit her parents in their small town in the reaches. Do you know when I found out she wasn’t coming home?”

“You can’t hurt me, you’ve signed the contract. You cannot disobey Foedus’ words! Our contract is binding!” Decius yelled, straightening his back even as sweat dripped from his chin.

Scattered through the ballroom, the Medax prowled towards the horde of Foedus. The Foedus shared a collective laugh. Until Praelis, a young and eager boy, shoved a dinner fork into one of the chuckling men’s hands.

He screamed. The other men collectively stepped backward, muddled with confusion.

“What– How are you—” Decius stuttered.

“What command did you give the Nameless when you annexed their cities for the Dessimi?” Salvus asked, coolly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Decius huffed, shuffling and scooting the table backwards to get further from Salvus.

Salvus looked to Teres, who in turn gazed upon his wife. Fidea gave a determined nod and wrapped herself around her husband's arm.

“What command?” Teres boomed, voice thick with compulsion.

The veins in Decius’ neck bulged, the words forcing themselves from his throat. “Every person was to be asked their Name. Anyone without one was to be eliminated.”

Fidea scowled at her father, eyes wet with anger and empathy as she looked at the Medax.

“I found my wife in a pit of dirt," Salvus said. "Strewn atop her family and countless Nameless. Atop people who had shown me what compassion is. What it means to be family, regardless of Name.” 

Salvus looked out across his small family. They were hounds on the hunt, herding Foedus who had neutered themselves by their own contracts to not harm the Medax.

“So I gave the survivors my Name, Medax, the Name of Negation. We took the Dissimi first, in the night. Slaughtered the leaders after negating their glamours and fake labyrinths. They had no guards, assuming their endless illusions would keep them safe. We took their blood and stitched it upon each one of us.”

Decius looked on, wordless and wide-eyed as the glamours fell from the Medax bodies. Rows and rows of Names were etched upon arms and chests in blood and holy ink. All save for Salvus, who held but two. “B-but! The Names fade with each new one…how do they have so many?”

“The Nameless were ignored, wasn’t that what you said? Godless filth? I suppose when our Creator Gods etched our Names and our boundaries upon us, they simply forgot to bind them too.” Salvus paused, looking at his son and his wife. They shared a love that transcended Names as his once had. Fidea had learned the truth of them shortly after their meeting. She did not care about his origins or his Name. She had loved him. “Or perhaps the Gods saw our love for one another and deemed us unrestrainable.”

“What are you going to do?” Decius asked, he hadn’t even tried to coat the words with his compulsion.

Salvus smiled and twirled the knife in his hand.

“We’re going to show you a real party.”