‡ From Goatherd to Garda: Ecaterina Lacusta ‡ [Complete]

[emptyanima]

[1]

Name: Ecaterina Lacusta
Meaning: Pure; Grasshopper/Locust
Age: 20 Yrs. (Dead)
Race: Human

Vallaki Garda
Origin: Krofburg, Barovia (Ravenloft Native)

Happiness is the natural flower of duty. ~ Phillips Brooks

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim - A Winter's Tale  - Jeremy Soule (Ecaterina's Theme)

Kate, by Alfred Lord Tennyson

I know her by her angry air,
Her brightblack eyes, her brightblack hair,
Her rapid laughters wild and shrill,
As laughter of the woodpecker
From the bosom of a hill.
'Tis Kate, ­she sayeth what she will;
For Kate hath an unbridled tongue,
Clear as the twanging of a harp.
Her heart is like a throbbing star.
Kate hath a spirit ever strung
Like a new bow, and bright and sharp
As edges of the scymetar.
Whence shall she take a fitting mate?
For Kate no common love will feel;
My woman-soldier, gallant Kate,
As pure and true as blades of steel.

~ Artwork ~

Spoiler: Ecaterina, upon first joining the guard • show

[2]

1.	Daniela Uhlig
2.	kokomiko

[emptyanima]

Entry One

At last, I have made the journey from Krofburg to Vallaki, enlisting in the Vallaki Garda. My family seemed proud, even if my brothers do like to tease. Yes, little sister Rina is leaving home to help uphold the law. That leaves Gregor to manage the accounts and trade, while Pavel and Anghel wrangle the goats. I will be checking the books on my days off. It may not seem it, but dealing in goat milk, cheese and meat is a more complicated business than it looks. But, I decided, ultimately not the life for me. Mama and Papa are certain they will manage without me, but encourage me to visit when I can.

The Citadel is larger than I expected, and my fellows are an interesting bunch. Private Andrei Varzaru is eager and friendly (perhaps too friendly at times), and we have been training our bladework together. Private Narcisa Pescariu... I at first did not quite believe that it was her, but I was soon proved wrong when I saw the distinctive mole above her lip. I heard rumours of her in Krofburg, saying she starves her brothers and keeps them in a basement, and that she even pushed the one promised to her off a cliff. I am certain that if these were true, she would not have been accepted, but she is certainly not wholly pleasant. She teases me often for my background, but she has been detailed in her lessons on protocol, so I suppose I cannot complain. Lance Corporal Novonti I have also met, as well as Private Albescu. There is one other recruit, Vladimir Oronesca, whom I hope will come out of his shell a little more. Finally, Corporal Iliescu. He was the one who interviewed me and ensured I was fit for purpose. He is a stern man, but he seems beloved of his comrades. I am looking forward to meeting the others, and getting to know them all better.

Soon enough, I'll make Private. Then we shall see what happens.

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Recruit

[emptyanima]

Entry Two

It all begins to blur together. I completed my training and was raised to the rank of Private. I have become accustomed to the patrol route and the protocol expected of me. But it has certainly not been easy, and at times, rather frightening.

I dare not even put it all to page, because then I will be forced to recall it all. There is a reason we carry garlic at all times now.

Many of the people, strange and foolish outlanders, seem set upon making the work of the garda difficult. And when it is not outlanders, it is former garda seeking to pick holes in new protocol. And sometimes, it is slippery witches, casting vraja before your eyes and vanishing from view. The place darkened as though my eyes were covered in pitch, and I shuddered. But as the darkness cleared, the witch was spotted by others. I did not follow them into the pit of imortiji, and a few gave chase, but ultimately she escaped.

Thankfully, despite this, Corporal Iliescu places his trust in me. I shall prove myself yet. Uphold the law, make something of myself... these are my tasks. I go now to fulfil them.

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private

[emptyanima]

Entry Three

I do not think I have ever been more tired than I am now.

My mind rages and my heart is heavy. Damn that Silvertree. We lost several men escorting him along dangerous roads to Castle Ravenloft. Bandits attacked us on the road, wounding me heavily. But they were nothing compared to the ogres. Seeing the half-eaten bodies of my fellow guardsmen as I returned...

The Castle and its surroundings made me quake in my boots. The Corporal and I were battered by the elements as we made the trek, but eventually we reached the place. We were escorted to meet with the Count's agent, or so we thought. In fact, we were brought to the Count directly. I did not utter a single word in his presence, bowing and remaining reverential in my stance, but within I was barely holding myself together. I felt so hollow and small.

Silvertree was questioned at length, and during this, it was decided that we should leave. The Corporal was given three rings, one for each guard present, and we were escorted out.

Night had long since fallen, and there was nowhere suitable to make camp. With my lantern hand shaking, we tried to navigate the pitch black to safety. The road back was blocked by choking mist, and the road to the Village was beset by neuri. Mercifully, an outlander came, bringing elixirs supposedly brewed by the Vistani to allow passage through the fog. We thanked him and continued tentatively.

That was when I saw my fallen comrades, what was left of them, after the ogres were finished... I am filled with aversion even as I write of it. Finally, we reached Vallaki, but the difficulties did not end. There was much trouble to see to, and my weariness at what I had witnessed left me prone to making some mistakes. I expect I shall be disciplined for them soon. The new recruit took umbrage with my beating of a prisoner. I wonder how he might feel if he had seen the torture of Silvertree that I witnessed...

Thankfully, we have been aided recently in our pursuits, several coming to us with information. The witch Ethel was put down.

I must sleep, or at least try to - this must be how that halfling feels. She fears him too...

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private

[emptyanima]

Entry Four

It seems that I am a token of poor luck. During the week since I enlisted in the garda, I have been twice injured in attacks by rebels. First, during a patrol that took me past the Romulich Orchard. They killed my escort, dragged me onto my knees and cut my hair unevenly, before kicking me in the ribs. I think one of them was cracked, at least, that was how it felt. They stared down at me with masks of gold, eerie and blank. They dealt a blow to the back of my head with the flat of a large blade, and I remember no more until a woodswoman rescued me.

Having just recovered from this attack, we patrolled the docks. A woman cried out for help, and we ran to meet its source. I should have realised something was wrong when she didn't lower her hood, and something in her style of clothing was familiar. She said her son had fallen into the water, and as we skirted the buildings to reach him, we saw the powder kegs too late...

She called down vraja-fire upon them, and immediately there was a sound like the world crumbling. I was bathed in a white heat, and I saw no more.

When I came to, my armour had become stuck to my skin. It was... agony. Brusilov, since made Lance-Corporal, took a shortsword to my leathers upon our return, only stabbing me twice, thankfully... my old bandages helped keep much of the skin at my torso intact, if reddened. They were replaced, covering the places where my skin has gone entirely, protecting the flesh beneath. I recall the recruit Vladimirescu, since made Private, watching me helplessly, a bucket at his knee.

When all was done, we were called forth, to swear our allegiance to Count and Vallaki. I am now a full member of the guard, lying in my bunk, willing my wounds to heal.

I am grateful to Vladimirescu for dimming the torches. I find the flames... unsettling.

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private

[emptyanima]

Entry Five

Squad III presses on, and so I do with them. I find it is quieter now; it is as though we have frightened the criminals away, for a time at least. We executed a pitic for treason, but an upstart at the beheading pushed too far when he drew his weapon. His shield is now in my possession.

Vladimirescu has left us, I assume to rejoin his family. We may have had our differences, but I wish him well in whatever comes next. We've another recruit now, Traian. He shows promise, and I am confident he shall complete his training shortly.

We were given an important task, recently -- the transport of the taxes to the Castle. While there were certainly obstacles, we surmounted them (with the help of the Red Vardo Traders), and completed our task with swiftness and care. There were moments of fear... the accompanying Toret set her blade aflame, drew close... I almost screamed. Mercifully, I held to sanity.

The Corporal has been so very supportive. We spoke before our meeting with the Burgomaster, and he was kind. I told him that I feared my appearance would cause outsiders to doubt Squad III, that they would think us weak and incapable. He couched it in different terms. He said it would be weaker for me to hide beneath my cowl, and to weep for things I cannot change. Instead, he said, I should be proud of what I have done. That I should be proud for enduring such pain. And that by having pride in my scars, I will be seen as strong. I have noticed that I am bolder, now that I am not hiding. Some of the outlanders stare, at times. But each day, I find myself caring less. There is still much to be done, however. I should meet with Doctor Byrne again soon.

Our meeting with the Burgomaster gave us cause to be proud. And while I cannot agree with his cultist beliefs, he spoke to me kindly, and with understanding.

I will hold the words the Corporal spoke to me afterwards closely, for they have since been of help to me in times of doubt. "I am proud to call you my Corporal," I told him. "And I am proud to call you my Private," he replied. I will do all I can to ensure he does not regret these words.

Finally, just yesterday, Lance Corporal Brusilov named me his deputy in the Border Watch. I will not let him down. Indeed, I must prepare.

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private, and Deputy of the Border Watch

[emptyanima]

Entry Six

I was much too quick to call it quietness. It was almost a tragedy... when that meat-headed fool charged the horde of rebels, I believe the Lance Corporal was finished. Mercifully, both Lances have returned mostly unharmed. In any case, the massacre will no doubt lead to eventual retribution. I only hope that we are prepared when it happens.

There is another new recruit to train, as well. I am glad to see more seeking to join the ranks; some I met when I first arrived, I've not seen for days. Then there was the matter of the elf thief who stole from Farmer Puscasu. It was I who administered the first part of his punishment, striking him upon the rear five times with the rod. I wonder how many of those watching thought me cruel, or how many thought me soft? I suppose it matters little, given I was but following my orders. I know that I was quick to snap in the wake of the massacre, and I am somewhat regretful, but at the same time, I am not sure any would have the self-control to handle it differently.

With all that has been happening, I am so very tired. I shall ask leave for the coming days, to spend time with my family. Perhaps, with the way all is going, it will be for the last time.

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private, and Deputy of the Border Watch

[emptyanima]

Entry Seven

And so my work continues, whether it be undertaking partrols, guarding the Burgomaster in his audience with the township, or training hard, alone or with the other men, to ensure Vallaki's safety. There has been little time to write, and none at all to visit home.

There have been several new recruits to welcome and train, and as always, plenty of mischief and lawlessness to contend with. I do not enjoy administering beatings, whether public or private, and I do not condone the severity with which some of the men go to their tasks. Hopefully, with more work and correction, Squad III shall be consistent in all its dealings.

May all those who have caused us harm and trouble be at justice's mercy soon.

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private

[emptyanima]

Entry Eight

The training process for new recruits reminds us continually of the laws that we uphold, and the protocol to which we adhere. A sad truth is that while they are meant to keep order and maintain safety, many use them as a method by which to exert control and incite fear. I have clashed at times with my fellows over my desire to keep to the letter of the law in all things. They believe me soft, one called me 'Lambcusta' once for my unwillingness to bully.

So why did I let that womb-freak go? Why did I show mercy?

Perhaps it is only that this day follows a day of many arrests, beatings and punishments. And while we acted as the law required, I take no enjoyment from corporal punishment.

The womb-freak was a strange one; he spoke more clearly than most I've seen. He refused to go down the well, into the place of waste and lawlessness, and I felt a pang of strange pity. He wanted to roam the woods. But much of the woodland is still within the purview of the municipality to patrol, so to let this happen would be to break protocol. But still I did.

He ran, and I pursued, following him toward the lands of Wachter. As I ran, I readied a bolt in my crossbow, let it loose... it pierced him and he bled visibly, but he continued to run, slipping away for a time. When I found him, he was on our side of the bridge, on his face, bleeding. He still lived, that much I could tell. How easy it would have been to kill the womb-freak there and then. But I did not. I yanked out the bolt, staunched the bleeding and dressed the wound. I gave him water to drink, food to eat, and set him across the bridge, telling him which plants could be used to tend his wounds if the bleeding persisted.

He was grateful, and contrite. He was from a land faraway with a name I cannot recall, but he spoke of how womb-freaks are feared there, too, and that he understands it perfectly. There was no anger in him, and while he was huge, I detected no threat. He was afraid.

I hope that I do not come to regret this mercy. Perhaps they are right. Perhaps I am a little soft.

Or perhaps I am tired of shouting when a quiet, correcting word is all that is needed.

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private

[emptyanima]

Entry Nine

Perhaps I took those jibes of soft-heartedness poorly-- on reflection, I have been harsher, of late. Never unfair, however, or outside the remit of the laws I keep. There are those who have thanked me for their punishments, taking on board the correction of their ways. Some say that they respect me for it, but I shouldn't let it go to my head.

I took no pleasure in informing that man of Albescu's fate, and the punishment he incurred for his part in that whole mess. Albescu may have made more mistakes than others, but you could tell he was sincere. He meant well, and truly acted as he felt best for the municipality. But with that breach of trust, he could no longer remain among us, or among the people of Vallaki. No matter what anyone says, we did not hate him. It was not a clean and easy severance, or an excuse to be rid of him. That is the way of gossip, however.

To see that man at the court held by Svari was no surprise, nor was it a surprise to see him contest the punishment he was given. It was still offensive, however, that he stated that personal dislike had trumped due process, which was not the case. He, unlike the criminals who have changed their ways, believes himself above reproach, and that pride is unhealthy for him. He does not accept his own wrongdoing, so how can he judge the wrongs of others?

That is a question I ask myself, at times. My worthiness to judge. I know that I too have made mistakes, as has Old Cojocaru, ones that weigh heavily upon his older mind. I do worry for that man. I worry that one day I'll walk into the barracks and find him with a blade to his wrists or a rope about his neck. I do not envy him the strength it must require to continue as he does, bearing all his sorrows. But he and I both accept the mistakes we have made, and seek to correct them. And this, coupled with our keeping to the letter of the law, will ensure we continue to act justly as we enter this new, uncertain period.

Countess Lyssa Von Zarovich. It was bound to happen eventually. We've had women as war-generals for many years. Our Sergeant is a battle-axe of a woman, but we certainly respect her. Barovian women are hardy, spirited and bold. Yet I do wonder at the sudden shift in outlook she expects from us regarding the Gundarakites, especially considering the rebel attacks of recent history. I suppose time will tell if she has been wise to do this.

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private

[emptyanima]

Entry Ten

I become more and more convinced that crime and troublemaking come in waves, a constant cycle of calm and storm, over and over.

The lethargy is hard to escape, and it makes me slow to act at critical moments. Had I been a little faster with those shackles, I would have been the one to bring in that mad warlock. One woman described his vraja as illusion, meant to play tricks and to deceive, and to conceal. In any case, I am glad to see that madness put to an end. One of his subduers spoke with me not long afterwards, asking me if we had any other punishment than death. It seems that he has known only the harshest parts of Vallaki's judgment.

In truth, I have beaten many more people than I have killed. I have warned many more than I have arrested. It is curious how perceptions seem to vary, yet one seems unchanging. Many think my fellows uncaring or cruel. There are stories from the years prior to my joining that still seem to spread. Let us see if this view persists. If it is to change, it must come from above.

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private

[emptyanima]

[1]

Eight Months Prior

Entry Eleven

Each time I catch a glimpse of my reflection, I am reminded of how much I have changed. If I knew what would happen to me, and what I would see, when I went to be examined for joining, would I still have done it? It is a question I returned to time and again in the last few days. Perhaps the fact that I have not yet tried to shirk my duties is answer enough.

I have the great privilege of working with some of Vallaki's finest men and women, at the cost of dealing with the municipality's worst.

We lost eight men to that murderous lech and his vagrants, all for the sake of one man. While I am glad that he was safe, and that we had fulfilled our duty, I am forced to wonder if it was worth the loss we suffered. The way their leader spoke to me, of ruining me, makes me certain that he was no stranger to such violence. I am forced to wonder if it was as many as eight women that he treated in that way. If so, it makes the sacrifice of my brothers and sisters-in-arms even more powerful, however delayed we were in bringing him the justice of steel.

If I had submitted to his demands, would some yet live that died?

I recall those three men who came to my aid, without question, as I sought them in the night. I recall how they rushed ahead while I tended to the wounded that were not beyond such care. I recall the sound of steel meeting steel, and steel meeting flesh, and then that terrible silence.

I recall seeing their bodies, floating face down in the shallows, the murky waters turning red.

I know that it is dangerous to question these things too far-- it makes you feel ill to dwell on what could have been, and for what?

Milorad and I were able to spend an evening in Bianca's establishment, telling the story of that blood-stained night. Partly for our own sakes, to remind those we protect that we do more than patrol (though they are important), but also for the sake of the brave men and women of Squad I and III who could not tell it themselves.

I catch another glimpse of my reflection. Am I happy to be the woman who stares back?

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private

[2]

The Reflection

1.	kokomiko
2.	Daniela Uhlig

[emptyanima]

[The entry is brief, but the handwriting is somewhat shaky.]

Entry Twelve

How wrong we were, to think to that being ruled by one of their own in Zeidenburg would appease the Gundarakite people. Sergeant Iagu Ursu is dead-- the numb cold that came creeping over me as I stared down at her severed head will not soon leave me.

Brusilov is Acting Sergeant now. I'd congratulate him on the promotion, but celebration would feel hollow, and be sullied by the taste of disrespect to those we've lost.

Those murderers have been granted safety by one of their own, the Boyaress Amalia Szathmari. I already despise the name. How many more will have to die before the Countess steps in?

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private

[emptyanima]

[A letter is pressed between the pages, ready to be delivered with the next courier's load to Krofburg.]

Mama, Papa, Gregor, Pavel and Anghel,

We are not wrong to look for the truth in ghost stories. So I write now with a warning. If you hear the screams and cries of your fellows, though they may haunt you, stay inside. If you hear him thunder through the foothills and gallop down the mountain road, keep yourselves hidden and safe. The legend of the Headless Horseman is true. I have seen him myself, on the wall at night duty. And though he has no head, no eyes through which to see... I felt him stare at me.

While I write, I also warn you against travelling the road to Zeidenburg for trade.

I suppose what I am saying is... please be careful. No heroics.

With love,

Rina.

[emptyanima]

[The ink is somewhat smudged.]

Entry Thirteen

How many more times will this nightmare come? Does no one understand what it is to be dutiful? I hesitated in obedience yesterday and was struck for it, yet today that Sergeant told me I could be promoted with more work. That I do my duty well...

How many times have I failed? How many times must I wake and see that the nightmare lingers? That I am drenched in the blood of my countrymen and surrounded by their lifeless bodies? And still the fools will tell me of duty.

That Vistana did all she could to try to make me afraid of putting her to death. It worked. I was terrified. But I could not say this. I had my orders. Do these warlocks and madmen truly believe that they bring justice?

They call us killers, and yet they leave many bodies in their wake, those men and women who were there to do a duty, or to be protected by those same people. Yesterday, we intended to execute two. One was killed, and after this, ten of our own died to a murderous fool who believed that he was being just.

How do they not see their hypocrisy?

I want to go home.

~ Ecaterina Lacusta, Garda Private

[emptyanima]

At last, after massacre upon massacre, death upon death, trouble upon trouble, everything seemed to be on the cusp of calm. The cold Barovian winter's air was no less bracing, but it felt lighter now.

Blades in hand, Ecaterina pressed on in thought, accompanied by the gentle panting of her loyal hound. Her breath misted about her mouth, her marred face drawn into an expression of stubborn discomfort as the breeze bit at her skin. Still, as the sun passed its noonday zenith, her thoughts yet occupied her. She had all but been consumed by her duty, of late. She'd danced close to the flames. Witchery on one hand, loss on the other, and amongst it all, the constant preaching and murmurs of dissent of which the Private had become increasingly aware. She had done all she could to ensure that the people felt confident to report crime and wrongdoing, and for the watch to not be seen as an antagonistic force, yet the moment her duty had begun to ask more difficult tasks of her, the murmurs grew louder, some becoming defiant cries.

Some stood by her yet. One man in particular, an outlander of all things, seemed infatuated with her. Why did I let him kiss me? She thought. Perhaps, she decided, because while other mouths spewed poison against me and my people, his was gentler. Sweeter. In any case, she had resolved that her father would grant him an impossible task, if he approached him in the coming month to seek the Private's hand, and that was likely for the best. Still, it had been of some comfort, even if it had puzzled her, and that it could remain.

She smiled faintly as she considered the one who had raised the notion of the festival at Svari's latest court. Surely, a sign more than any other that the city seemed close to calm, to be able to consider such celebration. She recalled the squabbles of the merchants, and sighed with relief as she considered the ones she had sent away. One of them had told her of his surprise that she had yet to be promoted. Truthfully, Ecaterina did not mind.  Her smile remained as the one she had punished that day had thanked her for it. He seemed subdued by it, his tongue stilled. Perhaps he at last understood something of my duty, the Private hoped.

She looked again along the road, her hound sniffing the cold air.

What a quiet. Perhaps, sooner than I hoped... yes. I'll not feel guilty to ask for leave to Krofburg for a time. I can share tales with mama, papa, and my brothers. Gregor told me in his last letter that he had an eye on a woman for the Betrothal Festival. Perhaps I'll bring Milorad along. He's a good but lonely soul-- it'll do him some good to spend some time in other company. Just as the memories of that farmstead may have haunted his son, perhaps his mark on the barracks haunts him? We can put all that behind us, all the loss. We can stoke the hearth of the Wandering Billy, break bread and share some of the Stout Heart. Yes... just for a little while, we can enjoy the comforts of ho-...

Too late, Ecaterina realised that she could not move. One foot refused to advance beyond the other. Her head refused to turn. Her blood ran cold as her unblinking eyes took in the swirling dark fabrics of their concealing garb, the cry of metal as blade left sheath. In all places but Barovia, ravens are seen as harbingers of death. These would be hers.

Unable to move, to breathe, to scream, pain took her as the blades drove over and over into her marred flesh. She became a river of blood, and she watched as though her body was no longer her own, though every agonising moment reminded her that it was, indeed, hers.

Home...
No...
N-...

She heard the strained death throes of her loyal hound before the blood filled her ears. For a moment, sprawled upon the grass, she looked into the face of Death, and it was Gundarakite.

She was beyond all thought when the cold blade crossed her throat.

--

She wandered through a Vallaki that was not quite true to life (for it is often this way in dreams). The place was calm, and her people were smiling. "Thank you for protecting my children," came a voice as through from above a body of water beneath which the Private drifted. Pressing across the cobbles, a familiar creature came from a trail of mist, upon four legs. Her hound leapt up to lick his mistress' marred face, before bounding onward. He was leading her. It was time to return to the Citadel.

Into the Mist, went the spirit.

[emptyanima]

((Bump for safeguard.))