Chapter 1: Nine Years Ago
Nine years prior to the events on that rooftop, Dante Magus, for so he prefered to be called, feeling the name suited him better than Edmond Cristo, was only just beginning his career in villainy, so to speak. He had years of experience bullying at school, and years of experience in the Dark Arts by that time, but he was still very novice compared to the wraith-hero who appeared in the rainstorm.
Dante Infervious Magus, or rather, Edmondicus Ferverus Cristo III stood in a large white chamber, with tall white chairs that were affixed to the walls and bore various shields upon them. The chairs were occupied by magi robed in dark cloaks, their faces concealed, save for the wizard in the tallest chair, whose face was almost a mirror of his, though older and bearded. Below, on the ground, stood a white u-shaped table laden with books, scrolls, quills and piles of parchement. Bent over this table was a man in robes akin the color of the room, save the black trim around their ends, like ink stains of a thousand years. Next to him stood a tall man with a cruel face and no lips. In a corner on a stool sat a wizened old man, shriveled with age, furiously writing on a scroll. Before the table stood Dante.
The man in the tallest chair was his father, Allistair Hyperius Cristo IV, the High Patriarch of House Cristo, the master of the family, its dependent families, fortunes and businesses. The hooded magi were the other heads of house, and the ink-stained man was the official Witness of the proceedings, and had been studying approximately two centuries of daily records and accounts for the last week. The tall man was the family Arbiter, the head of this particular proceeding, and the man on the stool the family Historian, who made the daily records and accounts.
"This matter," said the Arbiter, whose name was Milone Cristo, "is a rather unusual one. Usually, the family head, even the dependent families, remained cloaked, save for the High Patriarch. However, as the Accused include the entirety of the family heads, even the High Patriarch, I demand that you each remove your hoods. It is the right of the Accusor to see the face of the Accused, every bit as much as it is the right of the Accused to see the face of the Accusor."
"This is a farce!" spat a wizard whose chair was near in height to the High Patriarch's. "One cannot Accuse the High Patriarch! It is a sin beyond forgiveness!"
"Jason Friddum, the Witness, appointed by the family, will attest that there is no law in the family records, whether in the Hall of Simoniacs or in the personal libraries of the family that states the High Patriarch cannot be Accused." Answered Milone.
"But the High Patriarch must be above the law, above reproach!"
"No one is above the law, and as the Arbiter of this family, I demand you show your faces!"
Grumbling, the hoods were pulled back, revealing a court of wizards who were aged and/or very angry. One was heard to mutter loudly, "No one would have dared Accuse Edmond the Good; this is a travesty."
"Yes, but that is neither here nor there Fredrick Sintel. Now, I believe the High Patriarch is supposed to open these proceedings with a few remarks."
"Ohh, not throwing away all curtousy at once, are we?"
"No I am not, Fredrick, but you seem to be! Now, Accused or not, this court awaits the words of the High Patriarch; his opinion on the matter and his expectations."
Alistair Cristo gazed down on his son, looking at nothing else. He met the young man's defiant stare for a long moment, and the drew in a long breath. Releasing it slowly, he said, "It seems we are come to the end of the days of the Esteemed House Cristo." A murmur began in the other heads of house, but with a gesture of his hand, they became silent, "I do not say that lightly, but to think, that a day should come, not when the High Patriarch should be Accused, but that the Accusor should be his son. Surely this signifies the end of the days of the Winged Cross. I expect that the charges shall be laid aside, and the heads of house shall be found free of blame, and that these things shall be exposed as falsities. As for my opinion, it is my opinion, as High Patriarch, that this represents a serious failing in this House to raise its children properly- all misfortunate flames aside, and that the laws of this House regarding the rearing of children shall be rewritten and made more strict following these proceedings."
"Fair enough. Now, the Arbiter will hear an account of the Accusation from the Accusor first, and then, when his tale is finished, the Accused shall elect one among them who shall offer their version of the Accusation." Milone looked over at Dante and said, "Well, come along lad. You haven't gone this far to get shy now."
Dante advanced a step, looking up into the faces of his alleged family. Some people would find this difficult, he reflected, some people would have trouble attempting to dethrone and disinherit their entire family, especially if they had never met many of these Uncles and Cousins. But not him. He owed them nothing, nothing at all. Where had they been those years he had been lost after the fire stole him from them? Where had he been when the bigger kids had held him down and carved that wing-shape into his arm? Why had none of this fat, simpering, slobbering old white flesh-bags never once tried to find him when he'd lived as an urchin and ate from the garbage!? The only family outside of his sister that had ever loved him was dead. These goats were not his flesh and blood, and it served them right to cower before him.
Holding his head up high, he said, "I am, what some here may call, an outsider to these traditions. I have lived much of my life not knowing I came from the House Cristo, or any of its noble lineage. When at last I did come to know myself concerning this, I found I was faced with many more questions than when I began. Chief among these," he paused a moment, reminding himself of the script and willing himself to go onward, "was why my elder half-brother, Vergilius Frigita Tiresias Cristo IX, an honest man who had served as Steward of the Fortune of our House in my father's time of amnesia and disease, was forever cut off from his inheritance. What had he done that was so unspeakable that he could never touch a cent of what was, by birth, his right as the elder son? And then I learned of the Hall of Simoniacs, the Record House of the entire family, far beneath the Spanish Estate. On a winter's vacation, not unlike this one, I believe it was during my fifth year of education, I at last had the chance to go there. Oh yes, at a very young age, I entered the Hall of Simoniacs, unbeknownst to you all. I didn't trust any of you then, and I don't now."
"The Accusor will please adhere to only the facts of his story," interrupted Milone.
"Quite," muttered Dante, altogether not moved by the Arbiter's admonition. "As I was saying, I came to the Hall of Simoniacs, and discovered no file pertaining to my brother's misdeeds. In fact, there were only two files related to him at all. The first I found mentioned that he was the youngest Steward in a century, and that he had been made so by this court to guard the family fortune in the absence of my father and a legitimate heir. Now that got me interested: a legitimate heir. So I looked at the second file, which declared him illegitimate because he had been born impotent, and would never produce a biological heir, ever.
"So I had to know, what were the parameters that made someone legitimate? Whatever they were, they struck me as harsh and terrible. So I spent another hour finding that section in the Hall, and a few hours after that I found something rather disturbing out: That the section of family law which declared a son born impotent to be illegitimate had been written by none other than the current High Patriarch, my father."
"That is not so amazing," spat one wizard whose seat was almost the same height as Allistair's, "The High Patriarch may write laws as he deems necessary." Despite this statement, there was a murmur arising from some of the wizards with chairs lower to the floor.
"Perhaps not, but it struck me as suspicious. And so I looked up my father's file, which, to my surprise, had already been left unlocked. And oh, the things I read there. It seems to me my father had a rather tumultous childhood himself, often rebelling against his own father, the High Patriarch of that time. My father and his brother Morva, were involved in the death of their cousin Alejandros, the heir-apparent to the Spanish Estate. They apparently visited their cousin on a winter vacation, again, not unlike this one, but it was against their father's wishes. When they returned, a week late from the vacation, cousin Alejandros was dead, and his father, being old, could produce no further heirs.
"And so it was that Edmond the Good appointed his son Morva, who swore to his father he had done all he could to save Alejandros, the new Head of the Spanish Estate. Are you all following this? How convenient that Alejandros should die and Morva inherit his estate, and that Morva and Allistair should be alone with him in his final moments."
"Your story is incoherent," scoffed Morva, the wizard who occupied the high seat near Allistair, "You were talking about your father, not me, and his misdeeds, not mine."
"So I was, so I was and so I shall get back to that in my own time. The thought occurred to me, what if they had killed him, the both of them? What if a deal had been struck by my father and uncle? One as High Patriarch, another Lord of the Hall of Simoniacs. Which is when I read that murder of a family member is grounds for disinheritance."
"You can prove no murder!" shouted Morva.
"But I can, in fact, prove the murder."
A hush fell over the court at the words of the boy. How insolent this little Edmond was! To claim he could prove a murder of that sort! Some of them had looked into that death themselves, and had never once seen any shread of evidence to suggest that Alejandros had been murder, least of all by his own cousins!
"Alejandros was allegedly slain by a Yeti in the mountains, a rogue one, that had migrated from Tibet to Spain. True enough, that year there was a string of Yeti attacks reported in the area, indeed, this is why Edmond the Good warned against the trip, and a year or so later the Yeti was captured.
"But it would seem, that in their haste to acquire the Estate and the Hall, my father and uncle did not study the other deaths, or even Yetis for that matter. A Yeti, as you know, kills, not through strangulation, but through a scream which paralyzes the foe. They then leave them pass into unconciousness before attacking. Then they crush the throat, just in case. Yetis are fearful and cautious. Now, can anyone here tell me what killed Alejandros Cristo?"
"Loss of blood from multiple flesh wounds," answered Michael Friddum, who had been close to Alejandros.
"Yes, loss of blood from multiple flesh wounds. There is no record of ruptured ear drums, nor of a crushed throat. Alejandros Cristo was not killed by a Yeti."
Another murmur ran through the lower chairs, but the higher ones remained united in stony silence.
"You have proved that," said Morva, "but nothing else."
"This court seems to be in such a hurry that it will not be patient enough to hear Accusation laid against every Head of House."
"That would take days!" cried one of the assembly.
"So it shall, so it shall," answered Edmond, "But today I will focus my efforts on discrediting only the chief of the Accused: Allistair and Morva Cristo."
"Then I suggest you get on with this nonsense!"
"Very well, I present to the court the following instrument: the knife which was used to kill Alejandros Cristo." Producing the knife from the table's mound of evidence, he held it aloft so it could be seen by all. It was a long knife, the blade being the length of a man's forearm, and it was shaped to appear like it had the teeth of an animal along one side. There were various runes carved into the handle. "This knife is a special one, a wizard's hunting knife, a Memoknife, if you will. It is designed to show an image of the creatures it has slain, so that a hunter can show off the creatures he has slain with it. They have long been out of popularity among wizards, not having been seen in use since the fall of the Holy Roman Empire. This particular knife has, inscribed into its handle, the name of its owner: Morva Anubisca Cristo XII, in merfolk runes. Now I wonder what will happen if I ask it to show its last kill?"
A dark glance passed between Morva and Allistair, but it was undetected by the court. Their eyes were fixed upon the knife.
"Priori Mortum," whispered Edmond, and the knife's blade began to turn red as though it were having blood poured upon it. Edmond turned the knife blade down, and the blood dripped onto the floor. When it touched the floor, it erupted into a geyser of steam and smoke, and in the smoke an image could be seen. Slowly it became more and more clear. It was a man! At last his face became visible, and it was, indeed, Alejandros Cristo.
The whispers now rose higher in the room, reaching nearer to the High Patriarch's throne. They were silenced again, however, by Morva Cristo's voice.
"You have proved, perhaps, that Alejandro was killed, and with this Memoknife you claim is mine, but you have not proved who used the thing to do that deed!"
"Now see, here, my uncle, you were terribly hasty. Did you ever think to wipe the handle off? Of course not. In all the magical world, why would anyone ever pause to check for so mundane a thing as prints? And yet there they are, and there they have been all this time."
"Prints?" exclaimed one of the court, "A muggle's evidence cannot be accepted here!"
"Which is exactly what Morva was banking on, undoubtedly," answered Edmond, "but these prints were confirmed by a wizard, not a muggle. They are, without a doubt, the same prints that are on record for Morva Cristo, who once was arrested for his involvement in a burglary in his youth."
"This ridiculous!" cried Morva, "I am guiltless! Innocent! I have killed no member of this family!"
"But the evidence declares otherwise," said Edmond.
"Fie upon your evidence! Fingerprints!? They could not have lasted all those years!"
"Then perhaps you take the Memoknife out the caress in the night, thanking it for all it has given you?"
"I did not kill Alejandros! I didn't even take that knife with me that night!"
"Then you admit it is your Memoknife?"
"What!? No, I-,"
"And if you didn't have it with you that night, what did you mean when you said, and I quote the official documents, 'I stabbed the thing with my knife, having forgotten my wand in the cabin,'?"
"You, you, you!"
"This is all very interesting," interrupted Allistair, "but you have only proven Morva's guilt, if that, in the death of Alejandros Cristo, not mine, and as the Chief of the Accused, as well as the High Patriarch, I would like you to get to the point on that."
"Ah, well, the truth is, in the case of Alejandros Cristo, you did not physically commit any crime."
"If that is all, then I am entirely inclined to reprimand you for this waste of time!"
"Waste of time?" said Michael Friddum, "We've just learned Alejandros Cristo was murdered by Morva and you call this a waste of time!?"
"Compared to an Accusation against the High Patriarch, yes."
"What!?" screamed Morva, "It was your plan! You said we'd be rich beyond our imaginings if we killed Alejandros! You said I'd be powerful! If you think I'm going down alone, Allistair, you're sadly mistaken!"
"Oh please, Morva. I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."
"Excuse me!" shouted the Arbiter, "but I believe the Accusor has not yet finished his case for the day."
"Thank you, Uncle Milone," said Edmond. "Now, where was I? Oh yes, I believe I was about to lay charges against the High Patriarch for crimes greater than the murder of his flesh and blood."
"Don't be ridiculous," said one among them, "There is no higher crime in the law than murder of a member of the family."
"I tire of being admonished by a court of sinful wizards," said Edmond, his voice dull, but his words filled with contempt. "I shall be as ridiculous as I please, before I am through."
"Can all this not be forgiven? Consider the time of year, my brothers! We are all good Christian Wizards, after the way of Merlin himself, surely it is within the powers and rights of the High Patriarch to pardon all charges in light of the times?"
"Ah, but I must ask," interjected Edmond, "Who is the High Patriarch?"
"Oh, this is preposterous! The High Patriarch is Allistair Cristo, son of the last High Patriarch, Edmondicus Cristo!"
"Is he now? What if I were to tell you that, never, even for a moment, has Allistair Cristo been the High Patriarch, and that he has wielded the power wrongfully? Would that not be a crime beyond even murder?"
"I repeat my statement from before, this is a farce!"
"And I remind you: You are here only because you are a member of the Accused. Each in his own turn shall be brought to justice. Now, I believe evidence is in order?"
The Accused sat in silence.
"Very well. I present to the court this," he held up a scroll of parchment, "The will and testament of Edmond Cristo, as he wrote it, and not, in fact, as you have seen it. This will is the true will, and the one hitherto seen is a forgery, produced by Allistair Cristo to assure himself the position of High Patriarch."
The Arbiter took the paper from Edmond before it could be covered in spit by the wizards above it. He read to the court, "I Edmondicus Ferverus Cristo II, being the eldest son of my father, and current High Patriarch of the House of Cristo, and in stable mind, free of curse of potion, having once kissed a troll because of a lost bet in Bolivia, do hereby make a will and testement for the purpose of my family following my death." He looked up and said, "It is in Edmond the Good's handwriting, and the troll kissing was in fact his signifier to show he was not under spell. It goes on to list where various possessions of his must go after he dies, where he wants to be buried, etcetera. It looks identical to the will on file, except that the handwriting is somewhat different."
"How can it be his handwriting and different?"
"I only said it was different from the will on file. This is more his than the one I've seen. The tails of letters are exaggerated properly. Where is the difference in this will, boy?"
"Last paragraph, third sentence."
"Ah, yes, I see it: Which brings me to the matter of my replacement. At the time of my passing, the title of High Patriarch shall pass to the next legitimate heir: who is Edmondicus Cristo, my son Allistair having surrendered his legitimacy in adultery, and his son Vergilius surrendering it against his will, having been born incapable of producing an heir."
A hush fell upon the court as they heard this. The adultery had been heard of before, but had never been proven. Yet there it was, in the hand of Edmond the Good, and as High Patriarch at that time, to mention a crime which had been hushed up, it was a slap from beyond the grave. Only as High Patriarch could such an allegation without proof matter: as High Patriarch, his word had been regarded as law.
"The letter is signed by Edmondicus Cristo, which is after the manner of Edmond the Good," said Edmond, "He never signed anything Edmond the Good, or Good Ed. He hated the name, thought it made him sound too much like a king, which, as a good Christian Wizard after the way of Merlin, he would have never dared to see himself as."
"I do not accept this new will," said Allistair, "I wish it to be proved, if it can. The Arbiter and Witness will both testify that this is the true will."
The two men, Milone and the old man who had gone thus far unnoticed, bent over the wills and whispered softly between them for a moment. After what seemed an eternity, they stood erect. There faces had gone pale as sheets, and in unison they announced the doom of a hundred generations of traditions.
"This will," they said, "is written in the hand of Edmond Cristo. It matches the manifestos on file." There was a pause and then Milone said, "It is perfect, all the way down to the signature. The old will is false, a forgery."
Smiling, Edmond said, "I wish to conclude this opening Accusation by asking one simple question: Who, in all this House, would benefit most from forging the will of Edmond the Good? Think long and hard if you must, or, if you lack the time or capacity, just ask yourself: Who is sitting in the tallest chair? The answer to both questions is the same."
Silence filled the chamber. The faces of the wizards gathered there were pale and anxious. Morva Cristo was sweating openly. For one long moment it seemed as though everything would change.
And then Allistair Cristo clapped. "Excellent, excellent show, my boy. You have been fast enough and persuasive enough that you have won over many in this room, even though they must know you will put their heads on the chopping block sooner or later. You have even managed to make them forget the Accused has a chance to defend themselves, and, while Morva may have forgotten this, I have not." Here Morva's eyes and mouth opened wide as he suddenly realized his mistake.
"Now, let's see here, what was the accusation against me? That I had forged my father's will to gain his position, that this new one is the true one? Now, I must ask: How could my father have known I would have a son named Edmondicus, if, at the time he died, I had but the one child, and had not even met my son's mother here? Also: What adultery? I have never once in my life been unfaithful to my wives. And Maybe the will we have so far seen is forged, and, by some strange chance my father was a Seer and prophesied of his grandson's birth, who is to say I forged it, and not someone else? It cannot have been signed by me, as my handwriting has never been called similar to my father's. So there you have it, I am innocent."
"Oh, did I forget those?" answered Edmond. "How very silly of me. It is not a well known fact, but according to a maid in your house, and in fact, several members of your older staff, your first wife, a miss Ariel Cristo, was pregnant at the time of her death. Her son was to be named Edmondicus, after his grandfather, who had always been kind to Ariel."
"That's news to me."
"Yes well, I imagine it is so, and, while I have no evidence to support it, there is also none to refute it. But I imagine it is a surprise because, word has it you and the late Mrs. Cristo were not especially close following the conception."
"Is that so? I shall have to see to it that more silent staff is hired after this."
"Providing you are around to hire any staff, Allistair."
"You will address me as High Patriarch, if you are so ill behaved that you cannot call me father."
"I shall stick to Allistair, if you please. You see, I also forgot to mention that the reason no one has actually ever compared your handwriting to your father's is because all forms upon which the two appear have been hitherto concealed in your own bedroom. Three paintings had to be threatened severely before they would reveal the safe in which these files were kept. On these early documents, your handwriting greatly resemble's Edmondicus Cristo's."
"This is a waste of my time." Shrugging, Allistair turned to face Milone, "As the Arbiter, you are the sole decider in this case, as the court is all Accused. What is your verdict?"
For a moment he was quiet, and seemed distraught, but then an odd look crossed Milone Cristo's eyes. He appeared pained, and upset, but also relieved as he said, "I'm sorry Allistair, and I truly am sorry Morva, my brother, but as the Arbiter of this court, I must declare that both of you are found guilty, and that your sentence now lies with the High Patriarch."
Allistair laughed and said, "There! You see, as High Patriarch, I-,"
"No, Allistair," interrupted Milone, "Not you. Your son."
Allistair Cristo's smile faded and his eyes widened. "What? Milone, what did you say?"
"He said you aren't the High Patriarch, Allistair." Edmond smirked and rocked back and forth on his feet as he said this, because he knew where it was leading. "You see, I am the High Patriarch, and I have been since July, when I came of age. You were never the High Patriarch, you've just been warming my chair."
"What!" shouted Allistair as he drew his wand, "What is this madness! I am Lord of this House, and no other!"
"The judgement has passed, Allistair, put away your wand, you are only drawing further shame upon yourself!"
"Let him draw all the shame he wants, it won't change his fate."
"Then you mean to forgive me?"
"Oh, did I say that? No, no, no. Let me make myself perfectly clear. Let me clarify myself to this entire House. All of you will be tried, but I will find mercy in my heart for most of you, but this is still the end of The Winged Cross as you knew it. As for you, Allistair, and you, Morva, get out of my House and off of my property."
"I will not abandon what is mine so easily!" shouted Allistair.
"Perhaps I did not make myself clear? I am Edmondicus Ferverus Cristo III, the Lord of the House of Cristo, a highly respected title among wizards, and if you do not evacuate the premises immediately, I shall have you removed by force."
"Will no one defend me? I am the Lord of this House! Are you all so spineless and female that you will sit by and let a son throw out his father?"
"You try my patience, sir! This is your final warning: go or I shall evict you myself!"
"Edmond," said Allistair, his voice turning suddenly soft, "after all I've done for you? My son-,"
"Silencio!" roared the young man, his wand appearing almost from nowhere. "Petrificus Totalus!" He swept his wand in a wide slash, paralyzing his father and uncle in their chairs. "As my first act as High Patriarch, I pronounce a doom upon these two: It is not punishment enough that they be disinherited and discredited; from this point onward, they are Allistair and Morva only, and Cristoes no further. The name of Our Lord and the Mark of the Winged Cross passes from them. Anyone who offers sanctuary to these blood-traitors shall suffer the same fate. A murderer and deceiver, unworthy of being called good Christian wizards after the way of Merlin!" With another wave of his wand, the two most esteemed and respected members of the Cristo family were pulled from their high seats and levitated out of the room and down, out of the house into the snow.
So it happened that at the age of seventeen Dante Magus, officially Edmondicus Cristo, became the High Patriarch of his family. He went on to convict every member of the old court and replace most of them as he saw fit, appointing, not new Heads of House, but High Stewards, who would see to it that his money was well guarded, but still put to the use of the families he was now responsible for. And so began the rule of Edmondicus, being partly created by falsified evidence and partly long overdue.
But for better or for worse, it was still the beginning of his career as the Master of Shadows, a notorious Dark Wizard.