—There was a concept he learned about, years ago, when he was but a boy under the tutelage of various scholars (prior to their replacement by Sariel). An old empire, one scholar had told him– a wizened old man who seemed more a part of his beloved history books than of the living– older than Rhodolite, or Obsidian, or even Benitoite. The people had a peculiar way of dealing with tyrants and despots they deemed unfit for the governing of the country. They would carve out the names of the damned from the annals of history, chip away at statues until they remained faceless, and destroy every record until there was nothing that could prove they had ever existed. A total condemnation of memory, he had said, stroking a contemplative hand over his whiskery beard, one that served to wipe every trace of their person from the people’s hearts and minds.

He didn’t need to ask what it felt like, because he already knew. Slowly but surely, over days, months, and years, his posture was fixed, his manner of speech grew refined, and every sinew and muscle in his body was tenderized over and over and over to make his body no longer recognizable to himself. Until he could walk like a royal, could talk like a royal, could effectively fool kin and community into believing he was their beloved prince. Until the yoke of authority felt as familiar on his shoulders as the chains of oppression, until his duties were as natural to him as sleeping and breathing.

Until every last fragment of his being was forgotten and replaced, leaving nothing behind but “Leon Dompteur”.

—excerpt from my wip of ‘Damnatio Memoriae’, a Leon character study