Not all children of the Scarlet Empress are granted Great Houses of their own, even those young elects must first take the Second Breath to become worthy of the consideration. And those who surmount that hurdle find themselves faced with yet another gauntlet: do well, but not perfect. To fail in this task is to be consigned to ignominy, or worse. Here are but a few Imperial Scions whose names have been overshadowed by their more monumental kin, for now at least.
A mere four years old when her mother disappeared, Talaran was spirited away from the Imperial Palace shortly after that fateful Calibration by a conspiracy of loyal advisors who feared that the princess imperial would be selected as a puppet empress, or worse. Entrusted to the care of the Magistrate Caerula Cloud, she now lives among the peasantry under a false identity, the adopted child of two fur trappers Caerula Cloud's informant network. The early years of luxury have been all but forgotten by the tomboyish child, who helps her parents fletch arrows and catch small game to sell in the nearby towns. Indeed, the only thing unusual about her upbringing are the increasingly common visits by "Auntie Cloud and her friends." Should she exalt, she will be whisked away to yet another false identity, taught of her heritage and all the skills she might need to hide, or if need be, reclaim her birthright.
Rakishly handsome and libertine, Sakaj has been spending his mid-120s in a haze of dissolute hedonism in the winesinks, gambling dens, and bordellos of the Imperial City. Most in the dynasty consider him a disappointment and embarrassment, but he's not untalented, merely disinterested in their dysfunction. Long ago the fire aspect recognized the Dynasty for the nest of vipers it was, and wanted no part of it. Preferring to mock the game rather than lose everything playing it, he observes the Realm's collapse with detached amusement. Sakaj predicted that the Dynasty would eat itself alive eventually, he even boasts about it when he's in his cups. He loudly proclaims that he's staying in the capital because he wants to pour out a drink for the Scarlet Realm on the eve of the apocalypse, but the rogues and ruffians who know him well suspect that Sakaj has a plan, or three, to make it off the continent with a respectable nest egg right before the end begins.
Rendered sterile and physically disabled by a failed poisoning attempt in young adulthood, the savant Bekar took the tragedy in stride, giving himself wholly over to his vocation as a weaponsmith. Today he almost thanks his would-be killers for freeing him from the responsibilities of political marriage and Great House competition, and spends almost all his time designing, building, and testing fantastical artifact weapons. Many of the wood aspect's designs are deliberately impractical, or otherwise require exotic training to use to their fullest, but he has a small following of fellow eccentrics and weapon enthusiasts who share his appreciation for the artfully bizarre. Recently Bekar has been sharing secret but friendly correspondence with another eclectic artificer from the Dreaming Sea region, a lord of the dead whose letters are carried by winged automata wrought from weeping iron.
At the age of 221, Medet is seen by many of her siblings as a cautionary tale about the risks of being too dutiful a daughter. In her youth, Medet came to believe that her place in life was to worship and obey her mother in all things. Whatever vision and ambition that the earth aspect might have had were sacrificed on the altar of filial piety. For years she followed in the Empress' wake like a sycophantic shadow, serving as an advisor and assassin, carrying out anything her mother demanded of her, no matter how grisly. In spite of this, Medet never achieved the prestige of her more ambitious and independent siblings, the status of Great House matriarch seemingly forever denied to her. Instead of rebelling, Medet retreated further into her pattern, convinced that the Empress was testing her loyalty to see if she was a worthy heir. Today, secluded in her apartments in the Imperial Palace, Medet broods over the faithlessness of the dynasty. She believes in her heart of hearts that her mother will return, and when she does she will finally, finally reward Medet for her devotion.
In the Realm's second century, the imperial scion Garav, with the aid of his hearth and allied raksha nobles, attempted to overthrow his mother in a midnight palace coup. He was thwarted of course, his co-conspirators hunted down and executed, his name struck from the imperial ledgers and histories. But while his allies were slain, the Scarlet Empress had another punishment in mind for her prodigal son. Deep in the imperial palace's dungeons, Garav still lives, though he wishes he did not. The air aspect is confined to a special oubliette, a sarcophagus of blue amber and banyan roots, which preserves his body against time but leaves his mind in a torturous half-awake state. His sarcophagus is in turn hooked into an oracular engine of the first age, a device designed to scry the deep wyld using his dreams as a medium. For centuries he has lingered, a mad prophet issuing mad prophecies for his mother's esoteric designs. The last five years have been blissful silence though, and unknown to all, even Garav, the bindings on his prison-casket have begun to loosen.
A little over a century ago, the Prince Imperial Faram scandalized the Realm by renouncing all titles and possibility of inheritance in order to marry Ariadinia, princess of the wealthy and powerful southern kingdom of Wujet. Many thought that the Empress would order his death, instead, to the surprise of nearly everyone, she accepted his resignation. Poets and playwrights quickly turned the affair into a number of controversial ballads and stage productions, each proclaiming the triumph of true love. More cynical minds noted that Faram' marriage eventually brokered Wujet's acquiescence to becoming a satrapy and saved the Realm a potentially costly campaign in the badlands of the south. Though merely "Consort Emeritus" of Wujet's royal family after his wife's death, the water aspect is the true ruler of the satrapy in all but name.
Four centuries ago the sorceress Perem led the 9th Imperial Expedition far to the West to explore and pacify the barbarian lands beyond the horizon. In the official imperial records she died a martyr, her expedition butchered by unruly mortal princelings who rejected her gifts of civilization. In truth Perem's expedition was sabotaged from the very beginning by the Scarlet Empress, who for whatever reason saw fit to orchestrate her daughter's death. As her treasure ship sunk and her remaining followers huddled on the upper decks, the air aspect realized the full extent of her mother's betrayal, and in her desperation and hate swore herself to the eternal service of the Third Circle Demon Vestrioth The Pellucid Star. Today she and her closest followers still live, but they are Vestrioth's creatures now, the demon's agents, confidants, trophies, and thralls. The centuries have done little to dull Perem's animosity for her mother, but the Pellucid Star will not slacken her leash, for she prizes the former Princess Imperial's cunning and skill in the endless games of intrigue and one upmanship that define Malfeas' upper crust.
Seven years prior, Jaolet, mortal daughter of the Empress, went missing while touring the far east, her caravan evidently lost in a rockslide. A small army was dispatched to search for her, and eventually found her, confused but unharmed, in the wilderness. What none know is that the Jaolet they found is no longer the Jaolet who went missing. Abducted by a hive of the insectoid Myrmidons, she was exalted by their alien overmind as of the Swarm-Born, and dispatched back to the Realm to observe and report back to the colony. In the thrumming chorus of the Myrmidion gestalt-consciousness, Jaolet has found a family far more caring and rewarding than the Scarlet Dynasty, giving her validation and warmth she never would have received as a mortal member of the imperial bloodline. She returns the love of the swarm in kind, drinking in information about the dynasty with a thousand faceted eyes.
80 years ago, Idira vanished from the Imperial Palace without a trace. Nobody in the Dynasty, not even her mother, noticed, and her name disappeared from all imperial records shortly after. But it was arcane fate, not indifference, that spurred this forgetfulness, for Idira had been destined to become a Shieldbearer ever since she was born. Upon her exaltation the Bronze Faction immediately set about training and indoctrinating her, the faction elders seeking to use her background to help them nudge the Realm in their preferred direction. Idira is now considered by many to be Bronze Faction royalty, groomed to become part of the faction's new leadership when the elders finally expire. In spite of, or rather because of, this prestige, many sidereals in both factions look upon her as something akin to a nepotism hire, lavished with attention and honors by dint of her birth alone. Idira recognizes this and hates it, her every achievement and merit seemingly chained to faction politics, in spite of her efforts to prove herself in her own right. In an act of frustrated rebellion, she has secretly taken a Solar as a student, not out of any loyalty to Gold Faction ideology but instead as a private insult to the bronze elders.
