“Listen to my story, listen to it close. Many years ago, before the war, before you were born, a young Korek child was born to our band.” The Ga’Na began, flame flickering in her eyes.

“The child was small for a Korek boy, especially compared to his older brother who was the largest in living memory. But the band loved the boy none-the-less.” The Ga’Na swallowed, as if the next part was hard for her to say. “They named the boy Morkad. A great name for a great child: ‘Soul that carries great wisdom’ It means.

As Morkad grew up, he spent much of his time with his grandmother. The two grew close back then, and the grandmother taught Morkad everything she knew. Morkad had little interest in the ways of the warrior but loved hearing the tales of our people. His grandmother loved reciting them for him.”

Taking a deep breath, the Ga’Na’s face seemed to sink. Celeste reached out and grabbed her hand for comfort, and the Ga’Na returned a thankful, if forced, smile. “As Morkad grew older, he noticed the way we had accepted our fates. He noticed how the Korek were treated within the walls, how we were used as nothing more than dumb labour, and untrustworthy at that. How the only times we were allowed into the city walls was by a lord’s permission, only to be used for cheap muscle. Any of the other peoples could earn their way into Silvermarket, but not the Korek. We were outcasts for our birth.

As Morkad grew, so too did his resentment of the Terminians. But he still believed in the way of the Korek, believed in the old songs of our people. Morkad and his grandmother would often have long talks about how it could get better, how their people could have a better life. He would go to public houses and markets where all sorts would frequent, and he began to notice something. The rich merchants in their silks and gold were no wiser than he. Often, peering over a merchant’s shoulders at ledgers, he would find mistakes in their figures.

At that time an idea began to form in Morkad’s mind, that if he could gain the best education as any Fereni, Fershya, or Sherya lord and lady might, then perhaps he could return to the Korek and share that knowledge. He dreamed that he could one day teach us the way of merchants, scholars, and magi.

So, at the age of fourteen, Morkad somehow found a way to sneak into the Magus District. It is unknown how he found his way in, but when he did he made his way straight to the Academy.” The Ga’Na froze for a moment, her jaw clenching and brow furrowing in a sight that resembled an angry hound. “They laughed in Morkad’s face. Ridiculed him for even trying.”

Celeste felt her stomach sink. She knew that feeling, to look up at those walls and feel they were so insurmountable. It left her feeling ill, a twisting darkness knotting it up. How then must it feel to make it through them and be laughed at for the effort. If she ever made it through those gates, is that what would await her?

“That’s… That’s terrible.” Celeste whispered. “I’m so sorry that…” The Ga’Na raised her hand to quiet her. Celeste bit her lip and listened.

“The Academy explained that only the Godborn could wield Arcanum, that the Korek born of Chaos as we are, could not use it. To do so would be to flirt with Chaos. Morkad was heartbroken but begged to be allowed to stay. So, out of humor or curiosity I do not know, they offered him a position at the Academy. A position as a labourer. For nearly three years Morkad worked in the academy, lugging huge sacks of Arcanum crystals up the tower steps, facing mockery everywhere he went. Every mess was Morkad’s to clean. Anytime they needed someone to test their spells on, he was volunteered.” Then the Ga’Na smiled, looking out at the crowd for a moment.

“But Morkad would not break.” The Ga’Na continued. “Morkad taught himself to read in fleeting moments, and studied every scrap of paper he could get his hands on. He would listen to lectures from behind doors, and would cobble together every coin to buy Arcanum crystals to practice with. Morkad, it seemed, had the spark that allowed him to access the Arcane despite what the Academy Magi had said. Everyday in that tower Morkad grew in capability. And when he would return every few months to our people, he would show us the miraculous things he learned to do. For a moment we truly began to believe as he that the Korek could have better.” The Ga’Na sighed loudly, a pain in her tone. “Then something happened.” Celeste squeezed her hand, and the Ga’Na squeezed back.

“One day, Morkad was working in the library when he noticed a young student working with Arcanum. Morkad recognized the spell the man were working on and noticed a terrible mistake he was about to make. One that would likely have killed him and half of those in the library. Morkad immediately went to the man and stopped him, explaining the dangerous mistake.” The Ga’Na paused, then looked at Celeste with great sadness in her eyes. “Morkad did not know that the young man was the son of a high lord. Despite saving the young man’s life, the man flew into a rage at being embarrassed by what he thought of as a lowly Korek. Morkad was flogged in the public square before the Academy and was tossed out the Crystal Gate.”

Celeste gasped, her heart aching at the thought of what the poor soul had been put through. “Was Morkad… was Morkad k…”

“Morkad survived, barely. He was brought back to our people, an inch from death, but his grandmother had become the Ga’Na, and his brother the Ga’Se. They took care of him, but the wounds that marked his flesh were a stark reminder to our people of what happens to one who tries to rise above their station.” The Ga’Na shook her head, tears forming for a second before she rubbed them away.