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   There is something particularly telling about the combination of his interest in relics and magical rituals with his unusual perception of time. Epicrates does not seem to regard history as a sequence of events that can only be observed from the outside. To him, it is something almost tangible: a structure with repetitions, divergences, and possibilities that he has, in some sense, already encountered. His knowledge may therefore be less a matter of extraordinary foresight than of recognising fragments of events from other possible lives. This could explain why he sometimes appears to know rather more than he ought to, while remaining far from omniscient. His revolutionary convictions are similarly reflected in his practical priorities: he is more interested in involving ordinary people in shaping their own future than in cultivating the approval of the powerful. Even his recruitment as a Serpent Knight, following the resolution of his trial, carries a certain irony. A man who rejects concentrated authority becomes part of the Sovereign's closest circle—not necessarily because he has abandoned his principles, but because he considers the individual behind the title worth judging separately.

   Appearance

   Epicrates is a visibly scarred man whose appearance bears the unmistakable marks of a brutal past. His face is severely damaged, with extensive burns and injuries that have left his features permanently altered. His most striking feature is a single sulphur-yellow eye, an unnatural and unsettling presence in the centre of his battered face.

   He traditionally wears a dark cloak, often concealing much of his appearance. Without it, his physical condition becomes considerably more apparent. His movements are generally slow and deliberate, and his gaze has an unnerving intensity, rarely leaving the person he is addressing.

   His scars are not merely cosmetic. They are remnants of the Southbay labour system, where he endured forced labour and abuse as a child. He regards them as part of his history rather than something to conceal or explain away.

   The yellow eye is not his original eye. It is one of two demonic eyes he extracted after capturing and dissecting a demon in the mines of Brimwood. The other eye eventually became an artifact entrusted to the Sovereign.

   Relationships with Others

   The Brimwood Guild: Epicrates is one of its most influential intellectual figures. Although his name has become synonymous with its political philosophy, he insists that its principles are collective achievements rather than his personal doctrine.

   Marian: As a representative of the Brimwood General Assembly, Marian is involved in the legal proceedings against Epicrates. Their relationship is formal, though Epicrates occasionally responds to her with understated humour. He appears comfortable with the Assembly's authority to judge him, even when its decisions threaten his freedom.

   Ursule: They share an understanding of Brimwood as a place that can offer refuge to those who have spent much of their lives wandering. Epicrates nevertheless warns her against becoming imprisoned by nostalgia. He encourages her to look towards the future rather than idealising the past.

   Angelica: He treats her with considerable kindness and encouragement. Recognising her insecurity, he tells her that her heart possesses a light capable of guiding an entire kingdom towards a better destiny. He appears genuinely confident in her potential.

   Ligia: She approaches him with curiosity and attempts to imagine how his political writings might be presented to people less receptive to abstract philosophy. Epicrates appreciates her intentions but explains that political ideas require the right conditions to resonate.

   Oliver: Oliver is fascinated by the practical functioning of Brimwood's proletarian republic. Epicrates explains its system of collective ownership, resource management and democratic assemblies without unnecessary elaboration.

   Rupin: They share a political and personal familiarity. Epicrates addresses him as a comrade, although he is careful about discussing sensitive matters within the Tower.

   Dulahan: Epicrates reacts to Dulahan with immediate hostility, recognising the monstrous instincts and supernatural nature of the creature. Dulahan appears genuinely frightened of him.

   Edith: Even before her possession, Epicrates recognises the presence of dark supernatural influences around her. Once she becomes possessed, his hostility towards the entity inhabiting her becomes absolute. He refuses to be manipulated through appeals to human emotions.

   Tarcus: Their relationship is openly antagonistic. Tarcus considers Epicrates a dangerous schemer, while Epicrates regards him as a violent and intellectually primitive opponent. Neither makes any effort to conceal their contempt.

   Childeric: Epicrates approaches him with unexpected patience, suggesting that Childeric might recognise his own anxieties and contradictions in Epicrates' writings. He considers them more alike than Childeric would like to admit.

   Sagadin: A fellow Southbay native, Sagadin recognises the suffering that shaped Epicrates' early life. Their conversation reveals a rare moment of shared understanding. Epicrates, however, firmly rejects the romantic notion that suffering inherently creates admirable people. Misery destroys far more people than it ever leaves behind as survivors.

   Character Analysis

   At thirty-nine, standing only 169 cm tall, Epicrates is hardly an imposing physical presence. His strengths lie elsewhere: exceptional wisdom, considerable magical aptitude, and a charisma that allows him to make people listen. His physical attributes are comparatively modest, and his luck is notably poor; he is not someone who can rely on brute force or fortunate circumstances to carry him through. Instead, he seems to approach the world as something to be studied, interpreted, and eventually understood well enough to influence. His high intelligence is not merely academic: he is observant, intuitive, and remarkably capable of recognising patterns that others overlook. Yet his charisma does not make him diplomatic. Epicrates can persuade, inspire, and articulate an idea with extraordinary clarity, but he has little patience for the compromises and social manoeuvring that conventional diplomacy demands. He would rather challenge someone's assumptions than accommodate them.

   Background

   Epicrates was born in Southbay, among the children whose births were never formally claimed. He spent his childhood on the docks, where he was forced to work aboard ships from a very young age.

   His life there was marked by exploitation and cruelty. He has no memories of his existence before his first crossing, and the scars covering his face are the result of abuse inflicted by the carpenter aboard one of the ships on which he served.

   Eventually, he left Southbay in search of a better life.

   His journey brought him to Brimwood, which at the time was still a conventional monarchical county. Its economy depended on the extraction and export of natural resources, while its wealth accumulated in the hands of nobles and bourgeois interests. Epicrates initially found himself working in the mines, struggling to survive under much the same exploitation that had defined his childhood.

   It was there that he began educating himself. Between exhausting labour and stolen manuscripts, he gradually developed the philosophical and political convictions that would eventually influence an entire country.

   The growing dissatisfaction among workers eventually gave rise to popular assemblies, which developed into the Brimwood Congregation. At the same time, smaller intellectual circles began formulating the political principles that would become the foundation of the Guild.

   Epicrates was among those who helped establish these ideas, committing them to writing.

   The Great Revolt followed the nobles' attempt to deceive the Angelor Empire by selling mining rights they did not possess. Emperor Uther's response was merciless. Abandoned by their aristocratic rulers, the workers united against the Empire and eventually emerged victorious.

   The former ruling class was subsequently forced to work in the very mines where they had once exploited others. This became the foundation of Brimwood's penitentiary system.

   Epicrates was one of the major figures behind the revolution and the intellectual development of the new republic.

   Despite his enormous influence, he repeatedly rejects the idea that the revolution belongs to him personally. The term Epicratism, originally used by aristocrats to discredit the Guild's writings, is itself something of a misnomer. He considers their political philosophy a collective achievement.

   Narrator: Epicrates stands before you as though he had been expecting you to arrive today. Epicrate: It seems we never had the opportunity to properly introduce ourselves on this path, comrade. Epicrate: Yet, I believe that for our alliance to flourish, it is essential that I unveil certain aspects of my existence. Narrator: His sulphur-yellow eye, seemingly an intruder lodged in the centre of his battered face, sends a chill down your spine. Epicrate: ... Whatever you may have heard about me since the start of your reign, I am originally just a young man from Southbay. Epicrate: And like many others, I was a sailor there long before my journey led me to the lands of Brimwood. Epicrate: Should you have further questions, I am prepared to answer. Epicrate: Life in Southbay was not easy back then. Epicrate: I was born on the docks and spent my childhood there. The common fate of children whose births were never claimed. Epicrate: In those days, ships needed countless small hands for the dirtiest chores. I possess no memory of my life prior to my first crossing. Epicrate: Quite naturally, I departed Southbay in the hope of a more auspicious life. [Choice] And did you find it? Epicrate: Are you curious, my friend? That surprises me. Epicrate: After all, your face cannot be so very different from my own, beneath that mask of yours. Epicrate: Those burns are all I have left of Southbay. Suffice it to say, the carpenter of the ship on which I served left a scar that neither time nor healers can erase. Epicrate: Brimwood was nothing like you can imagine today. It was a monarchical county like any other. Epicrate: Barely out of childhood, I had no horizons there other than the mines in my struggle to survive. Epicrate: The days were arduous, yet we possessed a sense of camaraderie that flourished among us laborers. All, enduring the same hardships. Epicrate: I forged my education there, between mining labor and the manuscripts I managed to steal. Epicrate: What is your knowledge of Brimwood's history within this timeline, my friend? Epicrate: Back then, Brimwood's riches, its ores and timber, were exported throughout the realm, financing the opulence of a caste of nobles and bourgeois. Epicrate: Yet the nobles' greed proved to be their undoing. They attempted to deceive the Angelor Empire by selling mining rights that were not theirs. Epicrate: The Imperial response, led by the Emperor, Uther the Despot, was merciless. This marked the first turning point. Epicrate: While the nobles abandoned the sacrificed populace to their fate, the workers united against the Empire. Epicrate: Once victorious, we caught the traitors. They were forced to repay their debt at the very place where they themselves once shackled us. Epicrate: Thus were born the penitentiaries of Brimwood, after the Great Revolt. Epicrate: When we first began to organise amid the darkness of the mines, our gatherings took the form of vast popular assemblies, later becoming the Congregation. Epicrate: Concurrently, smaller circles forged what would become the Guild's precepts, debating politics and philosophy to give direction to this anger. Epicrate: I helped erect these ideas, committing them to paper. Epicrate: As for the term "Epicratism," so often spat by the nobility to decry the Guild's texts, it is nothing more than a misnomer used by terrified aristocrats. Our work is collective. [Choice] What are your real goals? And those of the Guild? Epicrate: The Guild preaches equality and liberty for all peoples, and the abolition of the dominant figures that currently impede these freedoms. Epicrate: A world free of tyrants... Narrator: The intensity of his gaze increases even more. Epicrate: ... and of Sovereigns. Epicrate: So be it.

   The Candid's Songs

   One of Epicrates' most important historical interests concerns Candid the Kind, a former Sovereign whose writings became foundational to the Guild's political philosophy.

   He considers Candid a revolutionary thinker who used seemingly childish songs and stories to communicate ideas that openly challenged the monarchical system.

   Their writings describe a world in which a Sovereign eventually destroys their own castle and allows the people to build a farm upon its ruins.

   Epicrates is particularly interested in how history has distorted Candid's legacy. Their reign is primarily remembered through the romantic ballad of Shamrock, their beloved knight, while the political convictions that ultimately led to their assassination have largely disappeared from collective memory.

   He believes Candid's actual assassin, Melior, was manipulated by the ruling nobility, and that the romanticised version of events obscures the political nature of their death.

   For Epicrates, Candid represents proof that even someone occupying the highest position of power can work towards the destruction of the very system that sustains them.

   Their dream remains alive through symbols, stories and the people capable of understanding them.

   Political Philosophy

   Epicrates believes in equality, liberty and the abolition of systems that concentrate power in the hands of a privileged few.

   His ultimate objective is a world without tyrants, monarchs or Sovereigns.

   He considers the monarchy more than a political institution. To him, its power is sustained by symbols, traditions and deeply ingrained assumptions that convince people that hierarchy is necessary. Even when the Tower's regency disappeared, the inhabitants of the Sovereign's kingdom continued waiting for another royal figure to restore order.

   This, in his view, demonstrates how thoroughly people can internalise the systems governing them.

   Epicrates does not believe that simply overthrowing a monarch is sufficient. The destruction of the existing order is only the beginning. What follows must be determined by the people themselves.

   His preferred alternative is a popular union organised around workers and the oppressed, rather than another centralised authority.

   Brimwood serves as an imperfect example of this possibility. Workers own their tools, manage their resources and determine the direction of their county through General Assemblies. Every person has an equal vote.

   He is proud of what Brimwood has achieved, but does not regard its current system as a final or universally applicable answer.

   He does not want other peoples to blindly imitate Brimwood. What matters is that they acquire the freedom and political consciousness necessary to determine their own future.

   His position on revolutionary violence is considerably less straightforward. He acknowledges that the Guild's methods can appear amoral and accepts that radical action may be necessary to destabilise oppressive regimes. He does not automatically condemn political assassinations or other acts committed in the name of liberation.

   Nevertheless, he distinguishes between genuine liberation and the mere replacement of one ruling class with another.

   Epicrate: Greetings, my friend. Narrator: In a slow gesture, he hands you a book with his left hand. Epicrate: Are you familiar with the story of the former Sovereign, Candid the Kind? [Choice] I know about their love story with Shamrock of Clovermont. Epicrate: Your predecessor, however distant, indelibly shaped our history. Their life and deeds lie at the heart of our precepts. Epicrate: The volume I now hold is a copy of the songs they composed during their lifetime. Beneath their apparent childish simplicity, these songs serve as the foundational texts for the Guild's precepts. Narrator: His bright eye takes on a hint of regret. Epicrate: Their convictions endure within this modest, child‑like collection I carry, the Candid's Songs. Candid mastered the art of subtext. When one reads between the lines, a genuine critique of the monarchical system emerges. Their entire reign mirrored these writings. That of a seemingly naive, benevolent ruler who secretly worked towards their ideal. Narrator: His bright eye takes on a hint of regret. Epicrate: Regrettably, contemporary perception reduces their rule to that naive, softened image. In collective memory, it is through the 'Song of Shamrock' that they are most frequently evoked. According to that ballad, Candid died of love, their gaze fixed upon their beloved knight, Shamrock. And that is all history has chosen to preserve. Yet, celebrating this romance to such an extent serves chiefly to conceal a darker truth. Candid were assassinated for their convictions. Shamrock, their knight and lover, is invoked to obscure the figure of Melior, their knight and assassin, who was manipulated by the ruling nobility. Epicrate: They were slain for having dreamed of a world without rulers. Epicrate: For, after all, the Candid's Songs are naught but that, symbols and messages... Narrator: A slight smile stretches his injured skin. Epicrate: The tale of a mad Sovereign who ultimately destroyed his own castle, his seat of power and allowed his people raise a farm upon its ruins. Epicrate: The narrative is filled with bizarre and even incomprehensible details, talking animals and symbolic caricatures. Narrator: A slight smile stretches his injured skin. Epicrate: It is striking to observe what a distorted trace history has preserved of this Sovereign, is it not? Epicrate: ... For official chronicles are always authored by the same voices, disregarding deeds and convictions. Epicrate: Still, Candid left their imprint. They were driven by a dream, a vision of the world, and they sowed symbols so their partisans might continue their work. Epicrate: Is it not the very essence of power to convince you of its own necessity, my friend? Epicrate: After all, it is far easier to imagine the end of this world than the end of the order that governs it... Epicrate: Even when your region found itself deprived of the Tower's regency, its inhabitants continued to wait relentlessly for the return of a royal figure. Epicrate: But a path toward that ideal does exist. Narrator: His voice suddenly deepens, taking on a serious tone. Epicrate: ... And this necessitates an artifact, attainable by treading a virtuous path, my friend. in this reality, or perhaps in another. Epicrate: . The Golden Key. [Choice] ... How could we acquire it? Epicrate: It can appear to the Sovereign who succeeds in rallying all subjects under one and the same banner. Epicrate: . But there are many dissonances standing in the way of that goal, aren't there? Epicrate: Know that a lost child possesses the power to heal the discords dwelling within your people. Epicrate: Thus... following his path may well lead to this unification. Epicrate: Regardless, remember that, whether upon this thread or another, these aspirations shall aid you in engendering a new end. Epicrate: Provided that you have not succumbed to the snares of the demon lurking here, beneath the stone. Narrator: His eye twitches. Epicrate: To conceive of achieving such a design will be impossible if you have entered into a pact with the occult forces of power. For never would such potencies consent to their own destruction. Epicrate: . That is all I may reveal to you here.

   Epicrate: Greetings, my friend. Narrator: The presence of Epicrates in these places gives you a distinct feeling, as if its occult powers were lying in wait. Epicrate: ... It is here that all may be concluded; are you aware? Epicrate: Should you choose to bring down the Tower, it is in these very places that the Golden Key will prove useful. Narrator: He stops. Epicrate: ... If this thread of destiny has indeed inspired such designs within you. Epicrate: For the yoke of power is a cage from which one cannot break free as long as its symbols and representatives endure. Epicrate: The people live through those same symbols, unable to extricate themselves, trapped in a form of passive consent. Epicrate: That is what sustains the illusion of order. Epicrate: That is what prevents any alternative from emerging in our unconscious minds. Epicrate: It is the people who must decide their own fate. Epicrate: The fall of the Tower and the collapse of the monarchy constitute only the first stage; what follows will be the work of those who remain, building upon the ruins. Epicrate: As the people of Brimwood once did, I deeply hope that this reconstruction will take the shape of a popular union, carried forward by workers and the oppressed. Epicrate: Yet it is not my place to dictate the direction to be taken. Epicrate: After all, if people are not prepared to conceive of such a system and their consciousness has not been sufficiently nurtured, then this future simply will not come to be. Epicrate: Nevertheless, I am convinced that it is vital to afford these alternatives a chance to exist. To be merely envisioned. Epicrate: ... But surely, imagining such an event without strife is utopian, is it not? Epicrate: There will be the lost. The dead. Epicrate: Even as far as you are concerned. This Tower and its powers are what sustain your life, after all. Epicrate: The destruction of the Tower will unfortunately spell your slow death. Epicrate: Should you indeed decide to employ the Golden Key remember that it is vital for you to combat the threat of the Empire, Sovereign. Epicrate: Without doing so, the Empire will descend upon your realm once the Tower falls. Unfortunately, this scenario entails vulnerability for at least some time. Epicrate: Take this into consideration. Narrator: He stops for several minutes, intensely sizing you up with his eye. Epicrate: You have shown wisdom by not succumbing to the demon's powers along this line of destiny. Epicrate: Thus, if you possess the Key, my friend, it falls solely to you to walk this path. Narrator: A sad smile crosses his lips. Epicrate: ... Such is an endeavour that shall have required many a journey, my dear friend. Epicrate: I am at peace. My legacy now rests within your hands. Epicrate: Perhaps, at last, I may find repose. Narrator: Naught remains between you but silence, tinged with a breath of hope. Narrator: A breath as gentle as it is ephemeral. Epicrate: Alas This thread of destiny does not permit the fulfillment of that scheme. Epicrate: By pact with the demon, you have here accepted its occult power... as I told you, it is now futile to hope for the Tower's destruction. Epicrate: Yet the path remains open. Epicrate: Once the Emperor is vanquished, you will be able to wield your power with unmatched strength, allowing you to turn back the clock to a moment before the pact's consummation... Epicrate: In the next strand, should you manage to reign without ever succumbing to the occult forces, then... Epicrate: This other end shall become possible. Epicrate: Make the right decisions upon this coming journey, my friend. Epicrate: History shall continue to watch you.

   Supernatural Abilities

   Epicrates possesses an extraordinary ability to perceive and navigate different temporal strands.

   This power originates from a demon he encountered in the mines of Brimwood when he was younger. Rather than allowing the entity to manipulate him, he captured it and studied its nature. Eventually, he dissected it and extracted its two eyes, which possessed exceptional supernatural properties.

   One of these eyes is now embedded in Epicrates' face. The other can be given to the Sovereign following the events of his trial.

   Through his own demonic eye, Epicrates can perceive fragments of other timelines. These visions are involuntary and often overwhelming, consisting of sensory remnants of events that have already happened or might happen in another reality.

   His ability allows him to retain awareness of previous temporal strands and recognise individuals he has encountered in other versions of history.

   This explains his familiarity with the Sovereign, even when they have supposedly never met in the current timeline.

   He is not omniscient, however. His visions are fragments rather than complete accounts of every possible future, and their frequency has increased considerably since the Sovereign ascended to the throne.

   The power has also left him with lasting consequences. Epicrates acknowledges that accepting such an ability is never without sacrifice.

   He regards his supernatural perception as a necessary instrument for guiding history towards the future he wishes to create.

   Epicrate: The weather is fine, my friend. Narrator: A new, unheard calm marks his voice. Epicrate: ... Though I reject that Tower and all it represents... Epicrate: ... I must concede that its architecture remains fascinating. Epicrate: A pity it should serve the cravings of power, alas. Narrator: His sulphur-yellow eye, which never leaves you, scans the surroundings for the first time, absorbing the vegetation and flowers. [Choice] I'm glad you've found peace here. Epicrate: But it is not this architecture that grants me solace here, you know. Narrator: You exchange a meaningful glance; his gaze is tinged with deep esteem. Narrator: He sits and beckons you. Epicrate: My friend. Before crossing paths with you, I must confess that had never felt such closeness to anyone. Epicrate: This is very dear to me. Epicrate: As orphans of everything, I believe we share a common experience of a past filled with wandering and loneliness. Epicrate: The weight of our tormented faces, the stigma that exiles us from the world of men. Do you feel it too? Epicrate: This singular worldview that lives inside me, I see its reflection in you. And how ironic to find that resonance in a figure of power who should oppose me. Epicrate: And even so, upon this thread, our designs cannot be reconciled I retain the inner conviction that other eras harbor our alliance. Epicrate: That grants me unparalleled serenity. Narrator: His gaze wanders into the distance. Epicrate: . I feel close to you, my friend. My first. real friend. [Choice] You are also precious to me, my friend. [Choice] I don't feel that way. Epicrate: No matter. I still see you as my equal, and I do not doubt that, in other circumstances, you would open your heart. Narrator: His gaze locks with yours again. Epicrate: ... Perhaps this ability of mine, monstrous as it is, also lets me resonate with your condition. Epicrate: Its energy mirrors what lingers in your dungeons, after all. A reflection of the dark side of the Tower's power. [Choice] ... What is this ability? Epicrate: . I think I can now reveal it to you. Epicrate: This singular faculty I possess, granting me leave to read between the lines of time. It was inherited from a demon. Epicrate: I met it in the Brimwood mines when I was younger. Epicrate: I had the leisure to converse with it at length. To study it. Narrator: His words are imbued with a serene, almost mystical calm. Epicrate: . But such entities are only capable of deception, aren't they? Epicrate: When it tried to manipulate me to regain its freedom, I captured it. then dissected it to grasp its faculties. Epicrate: At the end of that research I managed to extract its eyes. Two demonic eyes with unrivaled mystical properties. Epicrate: . One of them was given to you when you cleared me during the trial. Epicrate: As for the other... Narrator: His sulphur eye stares at you more intensely than ever before. Epicrate: ... To it, I owe this supernatural clairvoyance. [Choice] Did it hurt? [Choice] ... What exactly do you see through it? Epicrate: Welcoming such power is never without consequences, right? And its after-effects persist. Epicrate: Yet that sacrifice was necessary to set the course of time towards the designs within me. Epicrate: I see. fragments of other temporal strands assailing me, beyond my control. Epicrate: Sensory remnants of what was. or what could become. Epicrate: Know that these visions. have multiplied since you took the throne, my friend. Narrator: You sense a collision of sadness, determination and melancholy within him. Epicrate: . In any case, you make this path a little more bearable, my friend. Epicrate: You have my thanks.

   Epicrate: Greetings, comrade. You have chosen, on this path, to grant me my freedom. Epicrate: Alas, I regret that you did not attend the trial according to the rules of the craft. Epicrate: This closes certain doors for us in this timeline. So be it. [Choice] Does this outcome disappoint you? Epicrate: All outcomes are open to me. Epicrate: If this path is not going to fulfil my plans, then another one is quietly being woven. Epicrate: Indeed. But do not think that your footsteps leave the ground untouched behind you. Epicrate: Deliberately or not. [Choice] Was that the right decision? Epicrate: It is a decision that leaves some doors open. Epicrate: Yet if this path is not going to fulfil my plans, then another one is quietly being woven. Narrator: He's looking for something on him. Epicrate: In any case, this is for you. As a token of my sincere gratitude. Epicrate: This demon eye is a most particular artifact. Epicrate: ... And under your comings and goings, it will reveal glimmers that only your knights can read. Narrator: It fixes you with its gaze, while its heavy stare sculpts, little by little, a decision. Epicrate: Your worthiness is evident in this timeline, comrade. Epicrate: Your acts have forged a bridge between your designs and mine. Epicrate: If you wish, we may work together along this thread of destiny. Epicrate: This thread allows me to reach your Round Table, should you desire it. Epicrate: Perhaps walking by my side will lead you to unexpected outcomes. Perhaps not. Epicrate: But I have a feeling that our plans are already intertwined. [Choice] You're welcome. Narrator: Your advisor lets out a small squeak of protest. Narrator: A long silence follows. Narrator: Then, with a solemn slowness, your interlocutor catches the edges of their cloak and lets it slip to the ground, their gaze locked onto yours. Epicrate: I look forward to seeing what this path will hold for us, my friend. Epicrate: So be it.

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