"Take my hand, my dear. For we're off to never, never land~"
Philemon Kadaj
Age 23
Escaped Slave, Street Performer
Guildmember of the Luminous Rose
Wielder of the Radiant Butterfly
The man who smiles through pain, The man who would dance through danger
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Prologue: A Circus of Shackles
The Circus Royale was far from what it's spectators assumed it was. To the guests, it was your average travelling affair with plenty of spectacles and performances to behold, but to those who lived within those tents it was far from. The Circus's real purpose was gaining the aid of mages to force those without natural magic to work in servitude. The 'muscle' being mages of various ability and power who forced the performers and workers to preform both on the stage for the many unaware audiences, as well as worked them tirelessly in mines and lumberyards to get extra necessities for the road. While the Ringleader and his muscle lived comfortably, the rest were better off feeling like dogs. Forced to sleep in insect plagued bedrolls cramped together in the storage tents, given only what scraps weren't already consumed by the others, and worked to perfect their acts or crafts so when people came to see them perform they got their money's worth.
Kadaj, as he was simply known as then, was taken in young. An orphan caught trying to steal some of the circus food to feed himself, then forced to perform labor until he was old enough they could safely shove him in the ring. The day he turned 16 being tattooed the markings of his place in the circus, the running theme as each member wore a number of poker iconography on them. The number and icon itself based on their place and position. He was deemed a diamond early on, a minor performer who was made to juggle knives alongside the attractions to entertain people waiting in lines. Soon as his agility and reflexes grew, a second diamond added to him as he began juggling flaming swords in the ring itself. All while waking up to spiders in his bedroll, and waking up early to help carry trash about the camp to be tossed or burned.
Eight long years of this, as for what many would consider a small crime commited by a starving orphan was given no quarter, and as he'd learn no matter who you were you faced the same hell with this group. They cared not in truth of the punishments, only a pursuit of power and how best to hide it from the Mage Council. How to have themselves a troupe of indentured servants with none of the concern for their wellbeing. The frail were left on the side of the road, the rebellious were beat back in to place, and those who couldn't keep up were ripped away of their meals and forced to try harder to eat. Eight years of the torture.
All changed one day, as he noticed something changing in him. A dance of small butterfly starting to follow him around, before he realized they were more than just insect but an extension of his own realized magic. In secrecy, he began to work and figure out the extend of what he could do. Waiting for the perfect time to strike back and plan his escape, as right when crowds were beginning to form he used his magic to light the tents on fire. His enslavers unable to be violent to any of the slaves using the chance to escape, for fear the public would notice what was wrong. Helping who he could free before they all vanished into the dark.
Years later the same boy emerged, now donned in the attire of a dapper performer. A small group of butterfly usually following him around, dancing about with his actions and movements. Sometime during these years he took on a full name, Philemon Kadaj. The man who dances with butterflies.
Chapter 1: A Rose by Any Other Name
Soon...
