Life of Vardas
The Heirs of Lepidus Write
The Lepidean Librarian has charged us with researching further the story of Vardas, paragon and exemplar, and his investigation surrounding Mikkal. Hazelelponi expressed the hope that the findings would give new insight into identifying poisons in our own fields. Vardas taught to “seek out falsehoods and expose the truth” and so the Lepidean Librarian asks us to hold his own story to this scrutiny because we must be prepared to challenge what we know.
What Everyone Knows
We mostly know Vardas through the tales of their exploits. Their staunch companion and friend “Ion” recorded many of their endeavours in pre-Imperial Varushka, especially Temeschwar which at that time was obviously a Varushkan rather than League city – Vardas was active a century or more before Maria Ivanova, last Boyar of Temeschwar, made the fateful decision to tie the fortunes of her city to that of Sarvos and Tassato. From the stories of Ion, however, it is clear that Temeschwar is already a powerful settlement in the north. The best guess is that these stories took place a least a century before the foundation of the Empire.
Very little is known about his youth and upbringing. Some accounts claim he is “the earliest of the true Varushkans” but this perception is extremely unlikely given the timing, as any historian could point out. It is most likely based on a claim Ion makes several times that Vardas “combines the iron-hard will of the Vard and the cleverness of the Ushka to exceed both as the mountain exceeds the forest.” He was an excellent hunter and tracker, and would turn the senses honed by a youth in the dangerous forests of Varushka into the superlative capabilities of an expert observer. He was a natural master of almost any craft or endeavour he turned his hands to save music – there are several humorous asides in Ion's accounts of Vardas about his frustration at being unable to master the flute or the mandolin.
As a Varushkan with a keen interest in rooting out truth and corruption it is surely no surprise that he trained as a warden, in a fellowship known as the Lanterns of the Forest. In time, he split from the Lanterns and formed his own fellowship which Vardas apparently named the Will and Eye. Ion mentions several members in his tales, who come to help Vardas in particularly challenging scenarios.
One such scenario is the adventure in which Ion first makes the acquaintance of the warden, and write of his investigations. Along with two colleagues, Vardas uncovers a sinister cult of anarchists in thrall to the false virtue of “freedom” named the Firestarters. They had been capturing innocent citizens of Temeschwar and trading them to a monstrous sovereign in the woods near Delev. Vardas expertly tracks them to their lair, rescues Ion and several others before they can be sacrificed, and manages to defeat the risen sovereign in a riddling contest that ultimately leads to the monster's destruction.
Ion and Vardas soon become fast friends, travelling everywhere together. Their relationship remains platonic, as near as both Ion's writings and those of most of the hagiographers who follow afterward. Ion however has a number of ill-starred romances with ladies they encounter on their challenging adventures in the north and later in more distant parts of what will today be the Empire.
The Adventure Stories
Many of Vardas' stories that survive to day are structurally very similar. He becomes aware of a danger, mystery, or threat - often one that others have overlooked or that has been dismissed by the authorities. He bends his exceptional skills and peerless reasoning to tracking down and dealing with those responsible. A key moment in most of these stories comes when Vardas notes something inconsequential that subsequently becomes instrumental in revealing a guilty party, giving him a strong reputation for vigilance, attention to detail, and near supernatural insight into the workings of the human mind.
Well known stories include the exposure of a plot to assassinate the Boyar of Temeschwar, Irina Belkanov, thwarted by the revelation that a certain birthmark is in fact paint; the machinations of a twisted Winter coven that kidnaps and murders people as part of a foul rite intended to honour the Voice of the Pines, who in turn fills the dead with malign spirits to serve as miners for a corrupt mine-owner; the recovery of a stolen journal containing damaging secrets for an “Earl Sunrisen”, whose house is clearly lightly fictionalised; and of course any number of plots by the wicked Mikkal and his cult of anarchists.
At this point we might wish to pause for a moment to consider that while Vardas is clearly insightful, clever, and Vigilant, he is still a product of his time, as was Ion. Several of their stories contain depictions of orc slaves that we, with our modern sensibilities, would consider extremely inappropriate. They rarely actually appear in the tales but when they do they are either savage, murderous, brutish monsters, or beaten-down slaves, and Vardas wastes no time explaining to Ion that it is right and good that this is the case. Ion enthusiastically agrees. Unsurprisingly, these stories are either struck from the canon by modern writers, or sometimes rewritten, and a certain amount of scholarly ink has been spilled trying to explain why they are not as bad as they appear. We, however, are true archivists and I think it is safe to admit that these stories are uncomfortable, serve no purpose, and can be left in the past where they belong.
Mikkal
Many of Vardas' tales involve a man named Mikkal, corrupted by the false spiritual power of anarchy. They clash several times but Mikkal always manages to escape at the last minute, often by sacrificing one of his minions or supposed allies. In one case he literally hurls a foolish “wise one” who has been helping shelter him into Vardas' path, tripping him, and allowing Mikkal to escape through a secret passage to a hidden underground river. In another, Mikkal has used Night magic to create six identical doubles, who all assail Vardas and Ion together. The real Mikkal is exposed when Vardas spots a certain detail involving blood splashes on his sleeve, but nonetheless he manages to evade the grasp of the master investigator.
Mikkal also apparently is involved in the death and alleged ascension of Vardas. The story is one of the best known – having apparently caught and defeated Mikkal, the anarchist “escapes” into the Labyrinth. Rather than let him go, an injured Vardas chooses to pursue him into the embrace of death, urging the grief-stricken Ion to shoot him with his own bow. Before the chronicler can do so, Vardas ascends bodily proving beyond doubt his paragonhood and inspiring Ion to make sure all the tales of the warden's vigilance endure to inspire later generations.
Then, as we know, some thirty-five years before the foundation of the Empire Vardas is recognised first as an examplar and later as a paragon by the Highborn assembly, a decision that is later echoed and re-inforced by the early Imperial Synod.
After Vardas
Ion goes on to have adventures of his own in which he seeks to emulate Vardas' methods, but they are much less well regarded and less influential. In the reign of Empress Aenea there was an attempt to have Ion recognised as an exemplar of Vigilance, although this was hotly contested by the Loyalty assembly who, after the defeat of the Recognition, would go on to raise their own judgement recognising Ion as an exemplar of their virtue. A second attempt was made by the Vigilance assembly in the reign of Empress Giselle. In both cases, ultimately, the Imperial Synod concurred with the Highborn Synod – that Ion was not truly an exemplar but that he would likely achieve that status or the status of paragon in his following life.
Inspiration
The paragon is well known across the Empire, especially in Varushka and the League. A number of investigators, wardens, militia, sheriffs and magistrates look to Vardas as inspiration, both in his methods and his staunch opposition to the “forces of chaos” personified in the stories by the malignant Mikkal.
Vardas and Ion made a pilgrimage to Bastion, although there are no surviving records of their visit they were involved in thwarting an attempt by Mikkal to trick several staunch Highborn priests into spreading the force of anarchy in the White City. Mikkal escapes, the priests are exposed and condemned by the Highborn Synod who praise Mikkal for his vigilance and courage. Again, sadly, no records of these judgements survive. This is perhaps not a surprise given the time involved and the Nicovarian Barrier.
Vardas is also recognised for the sign of salvation; the stories recount how he saved a truly inordinate number of people from falling into wickedness, and as many of the tales end with him delivering a pithy line or three about the importance of being alert to treachery and false-friends, credited with bringing them to the virtues through Vigilance.
Mikkal and Vardas
Mikkal is a perennial foe of Vardas. The two are polar opposites – Vardas honest, upstanding, sincere, focused, dedicated to doing what he thinks is right and dispelling falsehood and wickedness. He fights with a small number of allies who respect and love him. Mikkal – deceptive, cruel, jealous, unreliable, treacherous, destructive, dedicated to doing whatever he desires and urging others to do the same, gathering disposable pawns who he discards whenever it suits his schemes.
Ion dubbed his followers the Firestarters, for their love of burning buildings and people who get in their way with equal enthusiasm. In some of the later stories, they take on that monniker themselves. In Ion's dialogue, Mikkal regularly uses fire as a metaphor and makes any number of fire-themed puns when he is gloating about a scheme he believes has succeeeded, just before Vardas reveals how he has seen through the plan and exposed its weaknesses.
The two seem, however, to be evenly matched. Vardas' incredible reason is balanced against Mikkal's cunning and in many cases, unbelievable luck. There are a few discredited essays that suggest Mikkal's amazing good-fortune, when events always seem to fall in his favour until the last moment when Vardas triumphs, may be an indication of some kind of boon or blessing from an eternal power – perhaps Basileus Flynt or the Whisper Gallery – and it is not until Vardas finds some way to thwart that boon that he is able to defeat Mikkal. Sadly, if that is the case, then the story that explains how it was achieved did not survive the burning of the library.
For the Librarian Alone
Librarian, if you have read this far, I urge you to stop reading. Burn the remainder of this document. What has gone before is the product of a little scholarship, and we judge it sufficient to fulfil your request in a way that will raise no questions when it is published. What follows is solely for your eyes and again, I urge you to cease reading. I am Nebuch of the Heirs of Lepidus, an elder of our sect, and I take full and sole responsibility for the words that follow. I hope you will understand that few of my colleagues know what I am about to share with you.
In the Autumn of 381YE, one of my colleagues came to Anvil to speak to the benefactors of Highguard. They had secured our services to explore the lives of the paragons and exemplars – this was some little time before the Lepidean University was raised you understand. During that meeting, my colleague shared with the benefactors that early investigations into Vardas had suggested that the paragon might in fact be entirely fictional. In the way of an archivist, he asked for guidance. Would the benefactors wish us to continue our researches? They wisely chose to ask us to focus our attention elsewhere and we duly did so.
Unfortunately, the evidence we had uncovered already existed. Only myself and my late colleague, Richard of Lepidus, have full awareness of the document we uncovered and its contents and once I have committed this transcript to paper my intention is to burn it as it should have been burned five years ago.
The Vision of il Volpe
There is another piece of evidence we have pointedly ignored in this writing, and that is the transcript of the vision of Lorenzo la Volpe of the Bloody Butchers' Guild and the exemplar Ozren of House Orzel who accompanied him. That vision is recounted in the fifth volume of “Echoes of the Labyrinth” and I believe, sadly, that it confirms our suspicions about Vardas. I will assume you are familiar with the account recorded there. The visionary appears to be a boyar, sitting in judgement over the anarchist Mikkal, advised by a "magistrate" and a wise one.
The “magistrate” in the vision, I believe, is Ion. The name is recounted as Iorna or Jorna or Yarna, and I think it is reasonable to believe that the visionary misheard “Ion”. The visionary themselves, we believe to have been Ivan Iliych, a Boyar von Temeschwar at the time when Ion and Vardas were alive. One clue I think clinches it is the visionaries' question about the virtues – Ivan Iliych was greatly touched by a Highborn wayfarer in his youth and became one of the earliest well-known converts to the Way in the north, remembered by historians even today for his even-handed Wisdom and Pride in his sometimes-ruthless people.
The vision mentions that Iorna/Jorna/Yarna/Ion is a “magistrate” and that also confirms our suspicion as to whose court this is. You must not make the mistake of thinking that the magistrates of Temeschwar in pre-Imperial times were at all similar to the magistrates we have today. They were a distinctly Temeschwari invention, being responsible for maintaining good order in the city and its environs – similar to any number of modern Imperial titles such as the various Bailiffs of the Marches. The role was auctioned bi-annually, and while prosperous citizens would usually avoid taking the title, those with ambitions would often scrape together the money to win the auction, and by doing so not only enrich themselves through bribes and fines, but gain access to the ear of the Boyar. But I digress.
The vision suggests that Mikkal is Vardas. That Vardas had somehow become tangled up with the Whisper Gallery, had made some kind of deal with them, and in the process “become” Mikkal! Astonishing.
Unbelievable.
The claim that "Mikkal is Vardas" comes from the magistrate Iorna/Jorna/Yarna/Ion, and I feel that makes it immediately untrustworthy. Not to mention unlikely – Ion's own accounts speak of a decades long rivalry between Vardas and his nemesis that spans almost the entire continent. It seems very unlikely even with the gaps in Imperial scholarship that are Nicovar's legacy that Mikkal achieved the notoriety and destruction attributed to him and his followers in barely a year. Not impossible, of course. But it simply does not ring true.
Worse, presumably the wise one and the magistrate himself would have met Vardas. They know of his exploits, seem unsurprised when he is mentioned. Yet nobody seems interested in discussing whether the prisoner Mikkal resembles (or does not resemble) Vardas. As if nobody knows what the man looks like!
I apologise my writing is become heated. To explain, I need to tell you another story.
The Other Vision
Il Volpe's is not the first past life vision to concern Vardas and by extension Mikkal. This is the evidence that came to the Heirs of Lepidus in 381YE as we began our explorations of Vardas. A journal from the time of Emperor James, written by Ezekiel of Syrene.
Ezekiel was a well-respected magister, and a regular visitor to Anvil. He served for four years as Gatekeeper of Pride and when he finally retired, he was granted a dose of true liao with which to have his own past-life vision. He writes how touched he was that his colleagues wished to honour him by letting him experience first-hand what he had helped so many others do before him, and how he hoped that it would provide him greater insight into where his path would lead him in the future.
What follows is a transcript, as close as I can make it, of the relevant section of Ezekiel's journal with a few annotations.
The Vision of Ezekiel
I am stricken, and know not what to say. After the vision I spoke privately with Verena Kashalavitch, and we agreed that it would serve nobody to reveal the truth of the vision. I am desolated, my heart is broken. What is the purpose of showing me this past? What greater good is served by it?
We have said only that in a past life I was a bravo in pre-Imperial times. There is some interest from historians, who wish to know my impressions of old Temeschwar. I have discovered I have a great facility for disembling; telling as much truth as possible and keeping actual fabrication to a minimum. As far as everyone, even my own chapter mates, are concerned in a previous life I was a poor gambler faced with a choice between revealing a scandalous truth and personal ambition who chose ambition. Everyone seems to believe our story – there are some gentle jibes at my expense that I could only be so “upright” in this life as a consequence of having been so dissolute in my last. I bear them with good grace.
Verena and I have sworn an oath, and I know Varushkans take oaths seriously. I can only hope that writing here does not violate that oath, but I must find some way to exorcise the demons that run through my head, that make me doubt where before I knew only the certainty of the virtues.
When I opened my eyes after the ceremony, I found myself in a house of ill repute – a tavern or an inn taproom. I at first took the people around me for pre-Imperial Varushkans, but Verena quickly appraised me of the fact that we were in Temeschwar and that some of the people nearby were talking about Mikkal and the Firestarters. I recognised the name of Mikkal, of course, but Verena explained a few details anyway although I confess they went over my head because I was busy drinking in all these details, experiencing for the first time what it was to be someone else in another time.
On the table before me were several empty tankards, some empty and some half-full, and I confess I felt a little inebriated. There were also cards on the table – as if I were in the middle of a game.
As I became restless, wondering what this relative calm might portend, a stzena struck up a song I was unfamiliar with about the perils of hubris which I found a little unsettling. The landlord or barman came over to clear the empty mugs off the table, and commiserated with me that the legal complications around my mother's will were not going well, and he hoped I and my family would be able to find a place to live once we were evicted.
Before I could ask any follow-up questions, the barperson whisked away and a young man sat down at my table. He drank from the tankard in front of his chair and engaged in some ribbing ang jibing as young people often do. I learned from this that my name was “Vanya” and that this fellow was an acquintance who I owed an amount of money to in gambling debts. He made jokes about how I was “unlucky in love as I was at cards”, and made fun of my attempts to “better” myself, and if I am honest I became a little angered by his mockery, and Verena had to remind me that it was not me that this man mocked but a person I had been in another time.
In the course of our exchange, the man revealed himself to be Ivar Olyankavic Nathavolava (or something similar, he spoke very fast). He was being smug about the fact he did not write under his own name. I did not immeditately appreciate the “cleverness” of what he was saying but in retrospect it is so obvious. I-O-N. He was crowing that his “pen name” was just his initials.
Ivar seemed to be what the League would consider a “mountebank”, but obviously flavoured by several centuries distance and a strong tang of Varushka. He was “feeling flush” because he had sold a new tale to the printers, but he had already spent his advance and wanted to further borrow money from me. “I cant believe I'm getting away with it!” he laughed and ordered new drinks for both of us. The barman served us at table, and the last piece of information fell into place. In a soft tone, the barman asked my “friend” to send his regards to the great warden Vardas, and let him know that if he ever came to this inn, he would have the best of everything without needing to pay. Ivar lapped it up, and confirmed that he would pass that on, but through clever words got the landlord to agree to give us both a fine room and a good meal, in Vardas' name.
After the landlord left, Ivar crowed about how nobody seemed to realise that he had taken the most recent tale from a story he had heard about a warden fellowship in Karvov who had faced a master dubik (Verena whispered that this was a Varushkan wolf, a little like a vallornspawn, that feasted on blood) and burned a forest to destroy it. He had simply “dressed up” the story, and inserted Mikkal and the Firestarters as working with the dubik, and it was “selling like warm bread in a cold winter.”
I realised then that “Ivar” was very drunk, and speaking without considering his words. I took this opportunity to ask him more questions and with every answer my heart fell further. It was at this point I realised with a certainty who I was speaking to, a moment before Verena shared her own suspicion.
He had made Vardas up. He had stolen the stories of a dozen other wardens and heroes, packed them in melodromatic language and plenty of little details to appeal to the readers, and sold them as actual adventures he had had with the amazing Vardas. “People want to believe in heroes,” he said. “They'll swallow the tallest tale more readily than a true story, if it tells them something they want to hear.”
I asked him why he was telling me this and, drunk as he was, he grinned even wider. “Because first of all nobody will believe you,” he said. “And second off because you need me more than I need you. A word from me and you'll be dragged off to the Ratman's Gate as a debtor, and then who will look after your poor mother, and your poor sister, and your sister's little boys, with Winter coming in?”
(Verena tells me that “Ratman's Gate” is most likely a reference to Ratibor's Gate, a place in Temeschwar used as a prison and built by the famous boyar who, I confess, I had not heard of before this).
He then slapped a hand companionably around my shoulder and in a drunken slurr told me that if I knew how to keep my mouth shut, and which pipers to pay, then once he was sworn in as the Summer Magistrate in a few days time he'd make sure that my own peititon to the Boyar to settle my mother's will would go in my favour and all our worries would be over. We would, he said, go far together as long as I remembered who my friends were.
It seemed that Ivar smirked at me expectantly, and I realised that I stood at a crossroads. If I denounced Ivar, and his assessment of my position was correct, then I would gain little and this person I had been would suffer greatly as would those who relied on them. If I kept my silence, then this unpleasant man would help me achieve this ambition I sought that would secure prosperity for my dependants. I blustered for a moment and Verena, unheard by any in the inn of course, advised me to look into my heart and do what I thought was right.
In the end I shook Ivar's hand, and told him his secret was safe with me and that together we would do great things. Verena said afterward that she was surprised at my decision, she was sure I would choose honesty and exposing a fraud over self-interest but I explained to her, afterward, that I could not tolerate the idea of this person's family suffering if I made the wrong decision. That if I remained in a position to moderate the behaviour of Ivar, it might lead to a better outcome. But secretly, all I could think of was that miserable childhood winter where the rats got into the Chapter grain stores, and I could not condemn innocent people to experience that fate again.
So there we have it. Vardas does not exist. Ivar Olyankavic Nathavolava – ION – was worse than a chronicler he was a fraudster who stole other folks' heroism and passed it off as his own, by proxy of this Vardas he had created.
Returning, I was in a daze, and Verena took charge, ensuring we were given time alone so I could “recover from my experiences.” There was little question of us telling the truth about what had happened, and for a moment I felt like I was experiencing a second dreadful test of virtue. I still dwell on whether I made the right choice, but it seemed so clear-cut at the time. Vardas is an inspiration. His tales give others faith in Vigilance, teach lessons, give folk the ambition to rise to his example, remind them of the importance of seeking out threats and defeating them. They are a source of Pride for so many. I cannot and will not shatter that inspiration. Verena agreed although her motivation was a little different to mine, and we swore our oath.
Already I feel a little quieter in my soul, writing these words. I have shed the tears that have been within me for two months now, and I think in this at least I have done the right thing. Pouring it out has helped the pain of it pass from me a little. But I cannot return to Anvil. This experience has broken my heart. Every time I speak to people I feel like a liar, even thought the topic is almost never my vision. Every time I see the Cardinal of Vigilance, I cannot look them in the eye and excuse myself from the conversation.
I will take this secret to the Labyrinth with me, and I urge you to burn this journal after my death because despite all the efforts of the virtuous these poisonous truths have a way of coming out.
In Summary and Conclusion
The provenance of the journal is without question. Ezekial of Syrene is a real person, their journal is real, and they recount the vision they believe they had. Verena of Varushka is real; she clearly had a stronger heart than her Highborn friend and continued to be involved in the politics of Anvil until her death in 282YE, serving briefly as Cardinal of Ambition. She never spoke of the vision she guided, but never guided another vision.
The vision of Ezekial might cast a different light on the vision of il Volpe, but I refuse to draw conclusions. Mikkal was not Vardas because the vision of Ezekial tells us that Vardas was not real. Why Iorna/Jorna/Yarna/Ion is so desperate to claim that he is, I do not wish to speculate. Perhaps you, Librarian, can bring some reason to this tale. Assuming you have read this far.
In conclusion, Vardas is not real. There are many stories, and reams of writing about those stories. Mikkal was real, but the names of those who fought against him are lost, obscured by “Ion” and his lies. We cannot even be sure how much of what we “know” about this monstrous blasphemer is true, and how much is exaugurated fiction.
The inspiration of Vardas is real however. We can, I hope, both agree on that much at least.
Coda
During the Summer Solstice summit at Anvil, Nebuch of the Heirs of Lepidus formally resigned their position and travelled to Reikos, joining the Welcomers Beacon chapter in Longshire.