Cheaper than Sin - Rakel Leviken

[Vissy]

The Leviken family, once widely known as merchants who made their name and fortune with their celebrated wines.

[Vissy]

The rumors were always the first sign to watch out for. When they arrived, you knew the Levikens were not far away. That one was the most famous; you know the one. "Leviken wine is cheaper than sin", they used to say. The family name, cheered out in roadside taverns and bustling inns, traveling ahead of the merchants with cheerful, mindless abandon.

But that wasn't the end of it. The talk followed in the wake of the cheers. People aren't stupid. Where did the Levikens get all that alcohol from, anyway? Why was it so cheap? When the wine arrived, people usually forgot. But every now and then, there were incidents. What do I mean by that? People drinking too much and seeing things, that's all it was. Claiming to see demons and goblins, that kind of thing. Having odd dreams, nightmares. That's what happens when alcoholism meets wine cheaper than sin.

Anyway, the rumors. I know one that was true. They always had good intelligence. That's how they got their deals, you know? Knowing who to talk to, who to strong-arm, and with what information; didn't make them many friends though, I'll tell you that. I saw them at a party in Arbora a few days before they were found... you know. Pale like ghosts, I tell you. Must've had a taste of their own medicine in the end, I thought.

A daughter? Only saw her once. They said she'd been studying in the west for a while. That's all I know. You'll let me go now, right?

~ Unnamed Broker, while throwing the Levikens to the wolves

[Vissy]

Anything, anywhere, anytime. Laurits Leviken was known for two things: his boundless wit, and his seemingly endless resources. In many years of business he had managed to cultivate an almost otherworldly aura about himself: here was a man who could acquire absolutely anything for you, as long as the price was right. And he did, time and time again, leaving behind a string of astonished - and pleased - customers. He would trot himself out to social gatherings, radiant wife Mailis in tow, selling the moon and the stars - and more often than not, walking away with something to show for it.

But as the years progressed, Laurits began to exhibit signs of instability. One moment he was bright and brilliant, the next like the light had gone out from within: in fits like this he deteriorated, and so did his talents, until one day the once brilliantly well-connected merchant was found dead in his study. The cause of death was never discovered, and the matter was kept private. Mailis, now a widow, retreated inward while Rakel was studying in the west.

When word reached the other side of the Core that Mailis had fallen ill, it was too late: by the time she returned home, dressed in fine, foreign fashion, her mother had disappeared without a trace as if swallowed up by the ground - leaving behind a debt the size of the Nocturnal Sea and a secret she could not afford to reveal. The incident was ruled a suicide, but though several search parties roamed the coastline, the body was never found.

In a small town like Arbora few things stay secret forever. Not soon after, Rakel Leviken found herself deep in someone else's pocket - and discovered it liberating. She began to receive invitations she hadn't received before. Under the patronage of someone more powerful, doors opened to her that had stayed shut before. People - important people - looked at her differently, as if at a curious new animal they hadn't seen before. She enjoyed this greatly. As time passed and she grew into her role, some came to look upon her with envy, lust - even fear. That, she enjoyed even more. In theory, the faithful and pure Nova Vaasans frowned upon these elusive people; the socialites, the courtesans, whichever you wished to call them. But Rakel found that in practice, they appreciated them as much as their western counterparts. This delicious hypocrisy, perhaps, she enjoyed the most. How easily the veneer was stripped away, with nothing but her own talent.

Yes, in the end, Rakel Leviken hated them. And yet, even as fate was about to hammer in the final nail to the Leviken coffin, she wished it would never end.

[Vissy]

The Nova Vaasan psyche is very alike the Barovian, despite their disdain for their western neighbors' apathetic atheism. They like to speak of the arcane as something barbaric - or rather, not speak of it at all - but in secret, they still fear the shadows from which it sprung. In their minds, all magic comes from that place, even if they wouldn't admit it to you.

~ From Kartakass to Kantora, author unknown

If I'd only known where my hurried escape would eventually take me, I would have prettied myself up, made dinner and invited the Iron Inquisition over for a chat myself. At least that way, it'd have been over with quickly.

~ Rakel Leviken, diary

"Ten fang. Ten fang. Ten fang." The carriage man muttered to each of us in thick Balok accent as he strode up the line of would-be travelers, coins clinking as we dropped the payment onto his large palm. He slid the coins into a threadbare pouch with smooth, practiced motions. He had his hood up, but I could make out a strong nose and foreign features in the torchlight. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, and he flashed me a toothy grin.

"What's a pretty one like you doing here, eh?" he murmured, almost to himself. I couldn't help but feel a pang of fear, tensing up; but the man suddenly averted his eyes, as if alerted by something else, and began to motion us into the carriage.

The rain was constant. The distant howling of wolves by the mountainside kept me awake at night, and I could hardly have slept for fear of plains cats regardless. Rumor had it that the cats had grown even smarter and more dangerous of late. It was in a dream-like haze, then, that I finally heard cobblestone under our feet. Vallaki. I opened my eyes to grey skies, a faint glow beyond the trees heralding sunrise. Perhaps in that moment, as warm fingers of sunlight stabbed through the light canopy of trees and I squinted at my surroundings, I felt a little glimmer of hope.

But then I breathed in deeply, partaking of that unmistakable, unapologetic Barovian bouquet, and regretted my choices evermore.

[Vissy]

There were many places Rakel wasn't allowed in. Her parents' room. The tool shed. One day, she found the door to her parents' room slightly ajar.

The room was empty. The bed was unmade. A vanity stood by the bed, organized with fanatical neatness. A large, oaken wardrobe stood to the side. But dominating the room, at the very centre at the far end, stood a large mirror.

Nothing about it was strange on its own. In fact, she completely overlooked it, heading straight over to her mother's vanity. But for some reason, she always remembered it.

Many years later, as Laurits was sleeping, Rakel, a young woman now, just returned from her studies - strode into that same room. The mirror loomed at the back of the unlit room.

As Rakel approached it, she was gripped by an almost overwhelming sense of curiosity. Wonder, almost. It was just a mirror, wasn't it? Why did it captivate her so?

Slowly and cautiously, as if in a daze, she stepped up to the mirror. Her palms itched furiously. The moment her fingers touched the cool glass surface, she heard a chilling, tenebrous voice.
What is it you most desire?

[Vissy]

An old letter that seems to have been cared for with great effort. The letter is retrieved, opened, read again in silence.

Dear Rakel,

There is no easy way to say this, but I have to travel far, far away, and I do not know if I will come back.

I am so proud of you, more than you can imagine. But this is the way it has to be.

Please, do not try to look for me. Please, live with the means your father and I left for you. Live a good life, far away from here.

I love you.

Mother

If only it were that easy, mother. I won't give up.

[Vissy]

Barovia, my last lifeline; never did I think I'd have to write those words down. But here I am. I heard their catspaws bandying my family name, their eyes and ears looking for me. I need security, and to build up my name once more. I need wealth, and friends. One day, I will return, and lay low those zealots.

At least one of those I think I have a plan for already.

[Vissy]

[Vissy]

They used to say that Leviken wine is cheaper than sin, but for Rakel, that saying never meant more than a mark of pride for getting the family name out there. There were many cheap and fleeting things in life. Kindness. Affections. Happiness.

If she was ever truly honest with anyone, it was with herself. And so, what was the meaning of this byzantine predicament she'd found herself in? What were these swirling thoughts and acerbic barbs of feeling meant to signify? Love, that fleeting concept that never failed to disappoint? Satisfaction? No, certainly not that, for if Rakel Leviken could have been said to be something, it was never 'satisfied'.

It never occurred to her at all that what she was feeling was not something to be curtailed or disregarded as unimportant. No, because it was so convenient to partake in that blissful warmth of acceptance when she needed to, to feel secure when it was needed, and live without the obligations of commitment.

Obligations. Commitment. Acceptance. The thoughts, scattered and distant, struck hard upon the vein of memory.

You are only fooling yourself, little barb, she thought, fingers tightening their grip on the armrest as the scent of blood strengthened around her.

What you truly love is pain. You want to rip apart what you love and revel in the fruits of your labour.

Unbidden memories flash across the back of her mind. Blood was in the air, warm and fresh, mixing in with the sweet scents of love... the satisfaction of success swelling her chest with pride. That pure, barbaric joy of victory. And the shame that came, after..

No, it couldn't be like that, could it?

His name was...

Banish the thought.

Did he deserve to die?

I don't care.

Did you want to kill him?

No. Yes. I don't know.

Monster.

I know what I am.

Shaking hands reached for a glass of liquid. The sharp, blindingly strong liquor imploded her train of thought into white noise. She slowly grew into a toothy smile. Rakel Leviken was always honest with herself. And if there was anyone who knew what a monster lurked behind that pretty visage, it was the woman herself.

[Vissy]

When winter whispers its first bite
The Autumn Prince walks in fading light
when leaves are black and trees weep
he'll tell to you when you're asleep
Secrets, tidings, memories you forgot
Bound in price that doesn't rot
Under a pitiless sun, on grass like chaff
The Autumn Prince will have his laugh