Portrait of a Villain: Brother Ptolemy & the Hidden Kingdom (part 1)

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Written by Paul M. King
Edited by Cassey Toi
Illustrated by Paul M. King & Rob Torno

A gaunt form drifts through the crowd; dressed in robes of dark crimson, the colour of dried blood. A hood, pulled low, all but hides the tarnished glimmer of a smooth, featureless mask that covers his face. Cracks like shadowy veins spider across the facade, golden paint flaking away to provide a tiny glimpse to the ancient cedar beneath. Small bottomless wells of darkness fall into the mask, openings for the mouth and eyes, and continue to hide what lies beneath even in the harsh light of the noonday sun. Two figures, move in step with the first, flanking him on either side. They are all robed and adorned in the same manner and none who stand in the heavy aroma of incense and exotic spices left in the wake of their passing can spy a difference between them.

Duke Gerhardt von Brandt was a very rich and – his detractors would only begrudgingly admit – handsome man, two facts of which he was keenly aware. One evening, while preparing to entertain, he spied a greyhair in his ebony mane. An enraged von Brandt soon found himself consumed with searching for a means of preserving his youthful visage and vigor. He began to travel extensively, visiting repositories and practitioners of arcane knowledge, his desperation and determination growing with every dead end he encountered with every turn. Eventually, in the dusky light of a Far-Eastern back alley, von Brandt found himself handing over a tremendous sum of money to a ragged thief for an ancient dusty scroll. The scroll, the thief assured Gerhardt, held the secret to immortality.

Years passed, and von Brandt continued to travel, seeking experiences both wondrous and exotic. Being young, handsome and rich he never lacked for companionship. One night, while in a tavern he attracted the attention of a local beauty. Unfortunately, the beauty had a jealous, and rather inebriated, lover. A fight ensued, and a dagger found its way through Gerhardt’s ribs and into his heart. He staggered back; withdrew the blade and with a laugh he lept forward and buried the dagger in his opponent’s belly. As the man lay dying on the floor, Gerhardt von Brandt turned and walked out into the bitter cold night.

While Gerhardt travelled home he became increasingly aware of a smell that seemed to surround him. He attributed this to the stench of the road; but was dismayed to find that it continued to offend his senses even after he had returned home and bathed. His irritability grew further as each meal seemed blander than the last. He decided to stop eating; as he no longer grew hungry. One morning, while performing his daily grooming ritual, a clump of his luxurious dark hair came loose in his hand. Staring in horror, he noticed the texture of his skin was changing, it was more drawn than usual and beginning to take on discomforting pallor. He spent the following two days wandering aimlessly through the halls of his manor, clutching the clump of hair to his sinking, perforated bosom. On the morning of the third day, the duke gathered his staff, dismissed them and ordered them to vacate the premises immediately. Locking up behind him, Duke Gerhardt von Brandt departed on his final journey.

The drought is severe this season and the local farmers are hard pressed to keep up with the demands of the city, much less keep food on their own tables. The red monks had imported a large shipment of food and set up a soup kitchen in the center of the city; the line wrapped around nearly the entire square. A trio of monks enters the square and heads for the kitchen. One of them breaks off from the other two to stand on the raised dais where a statue to the city’s founder gazes out serenely over what he had wrought generations before. Gloved hands are lifted and the attention of nearly every person in the sullen, shambling line is turned towards him. “Brothers and sisters! We are happy to share all that we have with you! But know that this meal can only give but a temporary respite to the unending neediness of this world. There will always be hunger, pain and fear. This does not have to be! There is another way – a better way! You need not be hungry! You need not suffer! You need not fear, even death! Friends, these things no longer have any hold over us. We are free, and we invite you to share in our freedom.“

Dust coats every surface of the forsaken von Brandt manor. Vines snake across the walls and windows, strangling the sunlight. The gardens, once meticulously kept and manicured are now overgrown and resemble little more than self-contained patches of wilderness. A pair of rats meander lazily across the great foyer that once greeted nobility from nearly every corner of the kingdom. An unfamiliar scent causes one of them pause and sniff the air. Suddenly, a metallic scratch at the door causes them to spin about; a rasping click of the aged lock sends them scurrying for their nest. The front doors swing inward, sending forth a gust of incense and exotic spice that cause the cobwebs to billow. A gaunt, red robed figure walks silently into the manor and looks around. He turns and nods to a second figure, dressed in much the same manner as he, who begins to carry in the few possessions they’ve been travelling with – scrolls and books, mainly. The second figure hums quietly to himself, it is a tune he has not heard since his days as a thief living on the streets of a distant Eastern city.

Background

One must always be careful what they wish for; wishes have a way of being granted in ways we don’t anticipate or intend. In his single-minded quest to cheat death and live forever, the man formerly known as Gerhardt von Brandt conducted a ritual upon himself that sealed his spirit inside his body. While the ritual did indeed stop him from ageing and kept him from dying, it did nothing to prevent his body from expiring and decaying once it was fatally wounded. As his body deteriorated, so did his grasp on sanity.

After disappearing from his home, he sought out various masters of necromancy in the hopes of finding a way to reverse his condition. Failing that, he turned to master embalmers to preserve what little remained of his fleshly visage. Watching as his organs and bodily fluids were removed and replaced with wax, preservatives and exotic spices to mask the smell of death, von Brandt’s mind finally snapped. He was a prisoner in his own body, with no hope of release.

Over a period of time, von Brandt managed to achieve some small measure of lucidity as he studied necromantic teachings on death alongside far eastern philosophy. Death would no longer be a prison for him, but a release. He was no longer a slave to the needs and weaknesses of a living body, nor was he subject to pain or death by any natural means. And, it occurred to him, he need not be alone in this new existence of his.

Taking on a new identity for his new life – that of a monk named Ptolemy – he decided to spread the good news of his liberated existence. His first disciple was the thief who sold him the ritual, upon whom it was forcibly performed. Ptolemy then killed the thief’s body and immediately had him embalmed to prevent decay from setting in. The pair then returned to the long-abandoned von Brandt manor and set about laying the foundation for what would become known as the Hidden Kingdom.

To be continued later in part 2….

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