The Path To Daemonhood

Marco's integration into Haven was an eerily familiar process.

For more than a decade now, the older members of Haven were used to any new member being a rescued child. A new adult around town was different.

Granted, my adult appearance wasn't the strangest thing about me, obviously. Not to mention I was technically fifteen. I'm sixteen now, anyway.

Marco, however, is an ordinary adult male, who deserted his previous group to join Haven under dubious circumstances.

With me, the apprehension was rooted in confusion more than anything else. I had wings. That's understandably strange, given no one else in Haven had ever had wings before.

With Marco, it's plain old mistrust. No one trusts a deserter. His bluntly self-centred reasons for coming didn't stay secret for long, not that he made much effort to hide it. A constant eye has been kept on him, and people are far slower to come to trust him than they were with me.

Some of them will never trust him. Ingrid won't, for obvious reasons, but both Rann and the Chief harbour their suspicions about him. Not that it seems to faze Marco on the surface at least.

Despite the mistrust, Marco has readily accepted whatever labour he's been ordered to do, no matter how hard or tedious. I get the feeling that he thought this would be his easy ticket out; easier than whatever he did for the Keepsguard. Instead, he's essentially reduced to day labourer. It's his new lot in life, and he seems to have more or less accepted it as is.

Mostly.

There are some nights I spot him hovering around the tavern until closing time, nursing a mug of wine the entire time. Only one. He doesn't seem to be a heavy drinker, but it seems like he uses his only free time to stew in his thoughts for a while.

It does make me curious.

Eventually, one night when I spot him in the same corner of the tavern, my curiosity gets the better of me.

"... So." I say, quietly taking a seat besides Marco.

"Hmm…" He mumbles, his face down in his mug. "And what does Haven's brave fool want with me?"

"You can use my name, for one."

"I have enough work on my plate…" He grumbles.

"I don't think you're in a position to refuse any work, Marco."

"Fine…" He lifts his head, giving me an annoyed sideways look. "What do you want, Marina. If you are here to pity me, I have no need for it."

"I just got curious. You're always in this same corner of the bar, face-down in the same mug of wine, whenever you have time off."

"Does my use of what precious little personal time I receive in this… town displease the powers that be?" He sniffs. His eyes have somewhat sunken since he came to Haven, but they still have that ruby-red lustre.

"No, it doesn't. You're hardly the only person who hangs around the bar until late in the night." I glance around to prove my point. There's half a dozen or so who tend to do such a thing most nights.

"I don't see you staying here late. What, not a fan of drinking?" He cocks an eyebrow at me. There's a certain insinuation under his innocuous question. The Sovranan Republic is famous for its wine, and its people famous for drinking it by the gallon. I wasn't expecting a jab at national pride, but…

"It's not that I'm not a fan, just… I'm a bit young. I try not to drink too much."

"Young?" He scoffs. "You're not that young. You look almost as old as the Chief."

"I'm sixteen."

"Right, then I guess if you're truly delicate, you'd be…" He stops, his mug halfway to his lips as my words process through his head again. "Sixteen?"

"My wings aren't the only thing that's… unusual about me. It seems my body aged up… a bit."

"Right…" He sighs, just taking it as fact, and taking a sip from his mug before setting it down. "Well, if you insist on small talk. How long have you been here? In Haven, and the Abyss."

"I died on my fifteenth birthday. I was found by Haven's people maybe a day or two after I woke up in the Abyss, and I've been here ever since."

"Your fifteenth birthday, huh… one year older than me." He traces a finger around the lid of his mug, feigning interest. "What year was it when you passed?"

"1541, by the Imperial Calendar." I give him a look, letting him know he's not the only one gaining information here. "What year was it when you died?"

"Hmmm…" He leans back, as if he has to think about it. "15…93, I think. I think I got thrown back about fifty years, given the date here."

"Huh… you're not the most future-y person here though. One of the Wolf Pups is from… god knows when in the future, but five hundred years later, at least."

"The one with big eyes that goes on and on about adventurer parties?" He asks.

"Yes, her. Rabbit. If you're ever mean to her, I'll hang you from the palisade myself."

"I would never do such a thing. She's so earnest I just nod and smile." He waves his hands at my threat.

"Good." I smile.

"I do wonder, though…" He tilts his head down. "How did a girl such as yourself die on her fifteenth birthday? You must be from a merchant family, at least. I imagine it wasn't from poor health."

The red sky.

The smell of spilt blood.

The broken bodies.

The screams.

The coldness that crept in as death took me.

"There was… an attack. My family's estate… burned to the ground, everyone killed to the last. I don't know why. I doubt I ever will. Just… one moment, everything was fine, and the next… the Retali family was snuffed out and left in a ditch."

Marco was drinking another mouthful of wine as I was talking, but my last few words made him spit out his drink and nearly jump out of his chair.

"Re… What did you say?!" He splutters, drawing some looks from the other tavern patrons. "Retali? Did you say Retali?"

"Y-yes… that's my name. Marina Retali." I explain. I've never seen him so animated.

"Then… If you're a Retali, and you died alongside your family, you… you died in the Retali Massacre!" He shouts, as I push him back down into his chair and get him to quiet down.

"The Retali… Massacre? It was infamous enough to be named like that?"

"Then…" He looks like he's got a thousand thoughts flooding through his mind at once, before he grabs my hand tightly. "Did you have a brother or cousin named Vincenzo?!"

"W-what do you want with my little brother?!"

"Your little…" He lets go of my hand. "Your little brother… is Giorno Vincenzo I, Emperor of the…"

"What? What the… what the hell are you even saying? You're not making any-"

Marco places his hand on my shoulder and looks me straight in the eyes, deadly serious. I stop.

"Look, Marina. I'll just explain what I know. You can ask your questions at the end, as I am sure you will have… many, if you are truly a Retali." He speaks calmly.

"Alright, talk." I brush his hand off. "I'll save my questions for the end."

What he says next is… ridiculous, at first. It's impossible to take something as ridiculous as my little brother, little Vincenzo…

Was known to history as Giorno Vincenzo I, Emperor of the Giornovan Empire.

Marco explained what he knew. The Retali Massacre was an infamous incident in the Sovranan Republic, and was known to parts of the wilder world. A promising, famous family of luthiers, cruelly snuffed out overnight. Normally, such an attack on a prestigious family within the Sovranan Republic, a republic built on family, would be met with fury, but there was a suspicious lack of action on behalf of the reigning families of the Republic.

A cynical byproduct of this was that the price of Retali instruments went through the roof, as they were now irreplaceable. Birthdays in my family always involved the entire family, so an attack on such a day would really wipe out all of us.

All but one, as there was one survivor. My little brother, Vincenzo. How he survived, no one knows, but he did. He ran away and crossed the border to the Giornovan Empire, and vanished from history for the next thirty-odd years. He next appeared in the military ranks of the Empire, proving a promising officer, then commander, then general. It seems he won no shortage of favour in the Imperial Court, and somehow got his way into the Imperial Succession. One thing happened after another, and just shy of age 50, he became Emperor Giorno Vincenzo I, famously known as the Last Retali.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

He was not an idle Emperor, by any stretch. It seemed he had spent his whole life building connections, gathering information, and formulating a plan, though none could guess what it was until it was put into motion.

Unfortunately for the Republic, and for Marco, that plan was the Empire launching an invasion of the Sovranan Republic.

Vinczenzo spent his life investigating what led to his family's downfall, and who was behind it. He had assembled a mountain of evidence that he made public to all before launching the invasion. What happened was simple, at first. A rival instrument-producing family had a petty rivalry with ours, and they hired some thugs to rough up our workshops, but they went a bit too far. It happens when you hire thugs. This, however, was not sufficient reason to invade a nation.

The corruption within the Republic ran far deeper.

My family were political outsiders within the Republic. The ruling families are all centuries old, being great merchant houses or the founders of artisanal guilds. We were luthiers, whose name grew in prestige too quickly for the more entrenched families' likings. We were not nobles, per say, but we had the money to buy our way into nobility if we so wished. The Sovranan Republic was a proud nation, and some say our family name was known further abroad than that of the Republic. While the actions were carried out by another minor family who viewed us as rivals, they required the consent of the ruling families to carry out such a brazen action on Sovranan soil.

Giorno Vincenzo I produced evidence that they had all consented to this action.

Despite one being an empire and the other being a republic, both nations had shared certain meritocratic traditions that dated back over a thousand years. It was what kept the friendship between our nations strong, and what had saved the Republic from being annexed, as so many neighbours of the Empire were. But, this rat race to the top can cause certain ambitions and personality types to win out. Those that attain great power often pass laws preventing others from taking the path they had, slamming the door behind them. The ruling families of Sovrana ruled precisely because they jealously guarded the steps to power and wealth, yet the Retalis appeared to be sidestepping the usual guarded routes to the top.

This stoked a great amount of jealousy and fear within them, as they had otherwise ignored my family's rise until it was almost too late. Perhaps, if it were different family heads in power, things would have gone differently, but those in power during my family's time were particularly hostile to the idea of change. There was suddenly a new, unknown faction on their doorstep, stepping into a world that knew nothing about them, that could upend their ancient system. So, orders were changed. Payments were shuffled. The original thugs were replaced with veteran mercenaries, who were told they had one job.

To put an end to the Retali family.

Unfortunately for them, they missed one, and with the long list of crimes against justice, against the gods, against humanity, and against the ancient traditions of their nations that they held so dear rolled out before them, the order was given. Their ancient alliance was over, and the Imperial Legions would liberate the people of the Sovranan Republic from their oppressive rulers, who had forgotten their routes.

The war was over in two weeks, and the flower of the Republic was trampled beneath the boot of the Empire.

Every noble family that was connected to this fifty-year-old plot were rounded up by soldiers, taken back to the Empire, made to stand court beneath the eyes of the Goddess of Order, Juno, and sentenced to death.

That's what was reported, anyway. In truth, it was a massacre of the dominant powers within the Republic, utterly gutting it, shattering countless lineages, and burning cities to the ground.

Marco's story ends here, as he was caught up in those massacres, and he died for it, aged fourteen.

"My… little brother, Vincenzo… ordered the invasion that… destroyed the Republic, and killed you and your family…?"

"My family, and many others." He nods solemnly.

"But why… why did they… why would he…"

"I told you all I know. For what I know about the Emperor, all I knew is that it was said he was a bitter man, and that he… hated music." He sighs, staring down at his mug.

No.

I don't want to believe it, but there's far, far too much evidence to deny it.

Worse still, I know someone who can likely confirm it, and he's nearby.

"Marina, where are you-" Marco's voice disappears behind me as I leap from my chair, surging past the bar and into the kitchen, finding just the man I was looking for.

"ANTON!" I yell, my breath ragged. My mind won't stop. "You're from the 1700s, aren't you?"

Anton, who was sharpening his knives alone in the kitchen, glances up at me with mild interest. "I was. What of it?"

"Why…" I march up to him, barely containing my anger. "Why didn't you tell me that the Empire invaded the Sovranan Republic?!"

He slightly raises an eyebrow, before sighing and putting down his knife, and turning to face me. "That was nearly two hundred years before my time, Miss Retali. I never visited that part of the empire, and it would do you no good telling you your nation was conquered centuries ago from my point of view."

"What was the name of the Emperor at that time? You seem to know your imperial history, what was the Emperor's name?!"

"During the… ah. Giorno Vincenzo I, the Last Retali…" He freezes. For a brief moment, his eyes widened in an expression of shock I'd never seen on Anton before. It drew me out of my rage, for a moment. "That's why we knew your name…"

"What do you mean, "that's why we knew my name"? Who's we?!"

"The Imperial Liberation of the Sovrana Republic. A war simply known to history as… The Retaliation, for it was the revenge of the Last Retali against the Republic that tried to snuff out their name." He puts it bluntly. "It came up one time when Chief Lichtrufer was demanding to know more about what the world was like in my time, three hundred years on from hers. She must have written it down in one of her annals."

"She… knew? I spoke about my little brother Vincenzo with her, and she never…"

"It would do you no good telling you, Miss Retali." His voice is ever so softer, but maybe that's just the muffled feeling in my ears. "However, since you now know…"

Whatever he said next, I didn't care to hear. I was already out the door, going around the back of the tavern in a dazed hurry, bursting through the back door of the library and storming up the stairs.

"Marina? What's got you so worked up that you're stomping up my stairs-"

"Vincenzo." Is all I can say, my fists clenched.

She falls silent, closing her book and placing it down on the table before her. She stares down at the dimming fire for a while, before finally looking up and giving me an answer. "There's a reason why I stopped asking you to take inventory of the Library, Marina. You never asked why the annals of the last decade of the 1500s were mysteriously missing."

"How long… did you…"

"We knew about the Retali Massacre before you even came here. I knew the name for your family's instruments, of course, but Tiff, Anton and I knew of the massacre. Tiff almost let it slip during our first interview with you. We filled in Rann and Vann afterwards, so they knew." She calmly explains.

"But why didn't… you tell me… that my little…"

"What good would it do you, Marina? You're down here, and he's up there. He's not-" She stops herself mid-sentence, seconds before I explode. Unlike most, she can see it coming more clearly.

"It would do me SOME GOOD knowing at least ONE of my family members WAS ALIVE!" I yell, as the tears I've been holding back start to stream down my cheeks.

"Marina." Her harsh tone cuts through my tears, and I find her glaring directly at me.

"What?! I know that time between our worlds is fucked and he might be dead already, but-"

"Would the Vincenzo you knew burn your home country to the ground?" Her question cuts straight through to my core.

"W… what…?"

"I'm asking you. Would your baby brother Vincenzo, of whom you spoke about with such fondness, destroy your nation in an act of revenge, despite the fact that many of the original perpetrators had long since passed?" She repeats, with agonising clarity.

"N-no… he would never…!"

"Then the Vincenzo you knew died with the rest of your family. The Vincenzo known to history may have been your brother by blood, but his ruthless war against the Republic was little more than a massacre in the name of the sins of their fathers."

I try. To get words out.

But nothing's coming.

All I can do is fall to my knees and weep.

I didn't see her get up, but I suddenly felt the Chief's hand on my shoulder. "I hid those annals because the Sovranan Republic wasn't just conquered, it was… destroyed. There was almost nothing left in the region by Anton's time. It had been reduced to a few backwater fishing villages. Its famous merchants, its wine, the instruments of your family… all lost to history. All at the hands of Giorno Vincenzo I."

I was still trying to speak, but she shushed me gently, wrapping her arms around my shoulders in a gentle hug. "Do you really want the memory of your baby brother to be sullied by the deeds of the man he became…?"

"No…" Is all I can get out, before I slump my head onto her shoulder and cry.

Vincenzo.

Vinny.

That blonde little twerp that always found his way into trouble, but had such a loveable smile that it always got him out of it.

He was just starting to grow as I approached my fifteenth birthday. My sisters and I were roughly the same height, but he suddenly started catching up to us fast. He bragged that soon, he'd be big enough to protect us sisters and our mother from anything. We laughed at this, as he was still a scrawny little kid, but he was growing bigger every year.

I have no… actually, I do know how he probably survived that day. No one was better at hiding than Vinny. Around the house, the workshops, the stables, in the woods, he had countless hiding places. He was wily, too. Though I can't imagine him smiling after what happened, he knew how to use it. It's probably what got him so far in life. Just that one day, he'd use it…

To burn down everything we knew.

I can't imagine what he was feeling when he gave the order to invade the Republic. He never had a temper, and even as a baby rarely threw tantrums. The only thing is that he did… tend to hold a grudge. But that was minor, childish grudges.

His grudge against the people who murdered us must have been different.

He held onto that grudge for some fifty years or more, and it drove him to such ends that he brought our own country to ruin with the might of another.

"I will be honest, Marina." The Chief speaks after holding me for a long while. "I did have one more reason for not telling you, as pointless as that is now."

"What…?" I ask, wiping away my tears.

"Reading about what Giorno Vincenzo I did, and hearing you speak about your little brother Vincenzo, I did notice one… similarity, something that isn't strange for siblings to have, but it did worry me."

"What…? We had the same eyes, I guess…"

"No." She shakes her head. "It's your temper. You have an impressive tolerance for certain matters, but when your willingness to put up with something snaps, you tend to… take rash actions."

"What, were you afraid I'd snap and burn down Haven?"

"No, nothing of the sort. I was just afraid you'd see that similarity yourself, and you might come to fear what you might be capable of. I don't want that." She brushes the hair from my eyes. "The last thing I want is for you to doubt yourself, just because of what the man your brother became did."

"... pff…"

"What? What are you- is there something on my face?" She leans back, equally surprised and disgruntled.

"You have such a roundabout way of looking out for people sometimes, it's just… it's sweet. You're sweet, Mia."

"Well, if you're done, how about we get off the floor." She huffs, putting her hands on her hips.

"Alright, alright." I laugh, standing up again. "I just have one more question, if you'll allow me."

"Yes?" She stands, straightening her shirt.

"I take it… Eirene doesn't know about this?"

"Of course she doesn't. We could never tell her what happened to her friend's family the first time she asked after a Marina Retali." She sighs, frowning a little.

"Good. I'd like to keep it that way. For now, at least."

"Honestly… storming in here like that. You tracked mud up the stairs." She points out behind me.

"I'll clean that up, I promise…"

"You'll clean it up now. Before it hardens." She scowls.

"A-alright, I'll do it now…"

Between my… outburst, and the annoyance of scrubbing the stairs clean, I fell straight into bed afterwards, and enjoyed a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

The next day, Marco got a bit of a dressing-down from the Chief. He didn't know it was a secret that was kept from me, so it wasn't a particularly harsh one, but he did look a bit worse-for-wear after the Chief finally let him go.