1846. The Month of Clans.
Above the high roofs of Dunwall Tower, Corvo Attano, the Royal Protector and father to Emily Kaldwin I, Empress of the Isles, stared out over the vast and crowded city of Dunwall. In the distance, he could see the whalers pulling up to the docks with fresh catches, though there were noticeably fewer and fewer of them. Rumors had spread amongst the fishermen that the great whale pods they depended on were vanishing. Such was the threat to the welfare of the Empire that mandatory restrictions on the use of whale oil had been imposed, and supplies were to be rationed until the population was healthy enough for trade to resume. This decision had made Emily very unpopular; the people of Dunwall, especially the over-pampered nobility, did not like having to give up their expensive household amenities to save energy. Already, Ichabod Boyle's Anti-Rationing League had written several scathing articles and pamphlets attacking the Empress as an uncaring, cruel despot; some even suggested she was hoarding oil in her palace and selling it for profit.
Corvo wished he could find whoever was publishing these false, vile attacks on Emily and make them suffer. He knew many different ways to inflict pain, from breaking bones to making cuts so tiny the most well-trained surgeon couldn't find them with a magnifying glass. They would be on their knees, pleading for mercy and swearing that they would burn their lies and slander. Emily would be happy.
But Corvo knew that, as in all things, he walked a thin line. On one side, there was nothing but blood, screams, terror, wickedness, and a ceaseless longing for misery, and on the other, empathy, caring, and a desire to show generosity and understanding towards all men and women. Corvo had promised Emily's mother, his beloved Jessamine, that she would not just be a better Empress, but a woman of good heart and temperament. And that meant that no matter how much he hated to hear his enemies call his daughter a tyrant and the bastard child of a filthy Serkonian, he had to stay his blade and keep his anger in check. A strong Empress did not heed the words of those who did nothing but wag their tongues, as her chief advisor Leona Headwater often said.
Suddenly, in the distance he heard a bell ring. It was noon. Abbey services had just ended for the day.
Running across the tiled roof, Corvo skillfully leaped over a small chimney and several exhaust pipes, landed on his feet in the small balcony connected to the royal chambers, opened the door without so much as a squeak, and walked in.
Emily sat there at a small table, her governess Callista Curnow by her side. Corvo stopped to admire just how much Emily had grown, from a small girl in white running around the Hound Pits to a strapping young woman in a well cut shirt, jacket, and black pants. Callista was still going through yet another of her history books and did not notice Corvo's entrance, but then her eye poked up and she fell silent. He could see how years of service to the Crown had changed her; grey streaks ran through her once-bright hair and her youthful skin was starting to wrinkle, reminding him of the witch Vera Moray.
"Callista, may I be excused? Father has promised to train me today."
"If the Royal Protector deems it so, then you may."
Emily stood up, brushed her pants, and left. Corvo walked over and helped Callista get to her feet.
"By the Outsider, these old bones feel like they're rusting inside of me. Corvo, how long has it been since I agreed to serve you and your family?"
"It was your decision, Callista. Emily treated you like the mother she wanted, and I needed someone to teach her the ways of royalty."
"Hmph, it seems that she's only listening to me half as much as you. Every day I hear the same: "When can we finish, Callista? Where is my father, Callista? I don't want to learn, I want to run around like a common vagrant and risk my life and safety and forsake my duties because I didn't choose to be an Empress." Does she care nothing for her heritage? Her responsibilities?"
"I recall you being much more patient than this."
"That was when I was young, Corvo. Did you know I received a letter from my uncle? He's retired to Karnaca, and he wants me to come and live with him. The man knows not how to cook or clean, and no one is fit to serve him except his own niece."
"Will you go?"
"Perhaps. My service is nearly finished, and he is all I have left of my family. Two unwed, old souls to keep each other company."
"I will miss you when that day comes, Callista."
"You still have Piero. And Anton. Surely one of them will suffice."
"None of them are you."
"Now now, Royal Protector. What would Jessamine think?"
A knock was heard at the door. It was Emily.
"Father, we've been summoned. It's Wainwright. He has a urgent message to share."
Corvo was so surprised, he didn't notice that his hand was caressing Callista's face.
"I could never replace your Empress, Corvo. Her heart belongs to you, and you alone."
Corvo removed his hand. He left Callista, and joined his daughter in the strategy room.
Wainwright, his blue suit smelling of fresh cologne, entered with Advisor Headwater and General Anthony Howe.
"Empress, we've gotten word from our diplomats in Tyvia. There's been a revolt against Kamarov I."