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It is not only bred slaves whose destinies are crafted from their heritage. A slave born of slaves is to become a slave. Likewise it is the same of all Goreans. The caste system determines the fate of the children. A child born of a warrior is a warrior to be from the time of its birth, as is a merchant, a scribe or even a peasant. The caste of the sire is to be the caste of the child upon reaching majority. One can change their caste only by edict of a ubar and never does one take on a lower caste than they were born to. These tenets have not changed since the creation of parchment to write them down. There may be a cornerstone somewhere that bears the chiseling of it in stone.
There is a selfish tendency of people not to ask more than what they wish to know. Racselis was a physician by birthright. He followed in his father's footsteps albeit with a strange limp that almost dragged one foot in a crippling fashion. His specialization was the breeding of pleasure slaves. That is all anyone ever cared to know. It is the point that they stopped asking questions. No one ever asked what he had desired to be, what he wanted to do when he grew up. Because of that, his passion tainted all that he touched. Unrequited love. It is not only women that have a hellacious fury when scorned.
It would have been a lowering of caste to pursue his greatest dream. A life of simplicity as a weapon's maker would have offered him peace and contentment, but that would have defied a legacy. Instead he continued with the work his father had handed down, crafting the most glorious of creatures meant to serve. In his spare time he still dappled with his hobby. Speculation had rumored that long ago in his tinkering, he had combined a potassium derivative, and another ingredients with quite exciting results. It excited the Priests enough to exile him to Acresius. No one ever asks what happens to those consumed by the blue flame. It would be beyond the World's end that he would spend the rest of his life paying restitution. There in the imposed seclusion of his laboratories, his true brilliance would surface. He would find a way to combine his profession with his desire.
It is not only bred slaves whose destinies are crafted from their heritage. A slave born of slaves is to become a slave. Likewise it is the same of all Goreans. The caste system determines the fate of the children. A child born of a warrior is a warrior to be from the time of its birth, as is a merchant, a scribe or even a peasant. The caste of the sire is to be the caste of the child upon reaching majority. One can change their caste only by edict of a ubar and never does one take on a lower caste than they were born to. These tenets have not changed since the creation of parchment to write them down. There may be a cornerstone somewhere that bears the chiseling of it in stone.
There is a selfish tendency of people not to ask more than what they wish to know. Racselis was a physician by birthright. He followed in his father's footsteps albeit with a strange limp that almost dragged one foot in a crippling fashion. His specialization was the breeding of pleasure slaves. That is all anyone ever cared to know. It is the point that they stopped asking questions. No one ever asked what he had desired to be, what he wanted to do when he grew up. Because of that, his passion tainted all that he touched. Unrequited love. It is not only women that have a hellacious fury when scorned.
It would have been a lowering of caste to pursue his greatest dream. A life of simplicity as a weapon's maker would have offered him peace and contentment, but that would have defied a legacy. Instead he continued with the work his father had handed down, crafting the most glorious of creatures meant to serve. In his spare time he still dappled with his hobby. Speculation had rumored that long ago in his tinkering, he had combined a potassium derivative, and another ingredients with quite exciting results. It excited the Priests enough to exile him to Acresius. No one ever asks what happens to those consumed by the blue flame. It would be beyond the World's end that he would spend the rest of his life paying restitution. There in the imposed seclusion of his laboratories, his true brilliance would surface. He would find a way to combine his profession with his desire.
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