⚔ Her Father's Footsteps ⚔

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The cliffs of Vultaro were a beautiful thing. When the sun rose, its rays glinted off the natural mineral deposits and lit the cliff-side up in a spectacularly dazzling way. Marianna would often refer to this island as her origin, in spite of the fact that she was born in Regalia.

Relieved from her duty as a guardswoman and the stalling of her family's business, there wasn't any point in staying. The port city was particularly quiet that day and her eyes scanned over the streets. The Speziale was supposed to meet her father here, despite the rumors of some sort of 'White Order' terrorizing the island.

Regardless of whatever rumors she had heard, the young woman wasn't afraid. She was a proud, devout Unionist and physically capable enough to be a Violet. The guide of both the Spirit and her skills would surely keep her safe, and thus she continued.

Despite her best efforts, Otto was nowhere to be found. He had left her behind without so much as a farewell. Searching from village to village, hopping from inn to inn, she had searched everywhere. Eventually, Marianna ended up in her supposed hometown with empty pockets and drained morale. The Ailor found her old family home, built by Aroldo Speziale himself, hundreds of years ago for his children to prosper in. Though they were only merchant commoners, the property was beautiful. Quaint, old and rusting, but beautiful.

Perhaps the most beautiful part of the house was the window view of the cliffs of Vultaro. It was here where Marianna sat for hours, staring out at the brilliantly gleaming cliff-sides and pondering. Pondering where her father was, pondering why the family had ever left this wonderful place, pondering how the Anahera situation would play out. Her friends had been left behind without so much as a farewell, but she had more important things to attend to.

The situation in Vultaro quickly escalated, with more neighbors going missing with every passing day. They were all filthy traitors, so she cared little. Marianna briefly considered the fact that the fires of burning heretics gleamed on the cliff-sides particularly well. But it distressing all the same. As much as she tried to fill her thoughts with apathy and loyalty to the Empire, it became too much.

Eventually, the woman tiptoed out, glancing over the emptied town. Vultar traitors, all of them. She stared upon the vacant houses with disgust, occasionally spitting on their doorsteps. She wandered aimlessly, but her footsteps eventually led to a makeshift mass grave. With vague disinterest, her eyes glanced over the list of names she didn't recognize until it settled on one she did.

She had only missed his death by a few days. He had never made it to the port city, killed on the same cliff-side that Mari watched every morning. Of course, the act of kneeling over a grave of heretics is treacherous in its own right. The White Order didn't want to take any chances and her turn had been coming for a while now, anyways.



It had occurred to Marianna how beautiful this must have been from the view of her window. The cliffs began gleaming brilliantly once again.

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OOC: Yes, Marianna is dead. She's been shelved for a few years now, so I figured I'd end her story off once and for all. I fixed a few lore consistency issues, so this may not line up with her backstory.​