I think about these two scenes often. A child's innocence and a mother's love. A woman, wanting nothing but the best for her son, despite their present circumstances. And the son, a boy who loves his mother and wants nothing more than to make her proud. Except that the boy was born on Nostramo. The homeworld of Konrad Curze and the Night Lords.
Context: A young mother is speaking to her son about the importance of performing well in school. That boy is Talos Valcoran.
>‘I don’t understand tuition,’ he replied. ‘We have to learn, but I don’t understand why.’
>‘To better yourself,’ she said. ‘So you can live at City’s Edge, and work somewhere... nicer than here.’ She trailed off on the last words, idly scratching at the ownership tattoo on her forearm.
>‘That won’t happen,’ the boy said. He smiled for her benefit. She cradled him in response, the way she did on the nights after her owner hit her. On those nights, blood from her face dripped into his hair.
>Tonight, it was just her tears.
>‘Why not?’ she asked.
>‘I’ll join a gang, just like my father. Xarl will join a gang, just like his. And we’ll both die on the streets, just like everyone else.’ The boy seemed more thoughtful than melancholy. All the words that broke his mother’s heart barely moved him at all. Facts were facts. ‘It’s not really any better at City’s Edge, is it? Not really.’
>She was crying now, just as the woman in the alley had cried. The same hollow look in her eyes, the same deadness.
>‘No,’ she admitted in a whisper. ‘It’s no different there.’
>‘So why should I learn in tuition academy? Why do you waste money on all these books for me to read?’
She needed time before she could answer. The boy listened to her swallow, and felt her shaking.
>‘Mother?’
>"If you stand out from the other children, if you’re the best and the brightest and the cleverest, you’ll never have to see this world again.’
>The boy looked up at her. He wasn’t certain he’d heard right, or that he liked the idea if he had.
>‘Leave the whole world? Who will...’ He almost said Who will take care of you, but that would only make her cry again. ‘Who will keep you company?’
>‘You never need to worry about me. I’ll be fine. But please, please answer your tutor’s questions. You have to show how clever you are. It’s important.’
>‘But where would I go? What will I do?’
>‘Wherever you want to go, and whatever you want to do.’ She gave him a smile now. ‘Heroes can do whatever they want.’
>‘A hero?’ The idea made him giggle. His laughter was balm to his mother’s grief – he was old enough to notice it happen, but too young to know why such a simple thing could resonate within a parent’s heart.
>‘Yes. If you pass the trials, you’ll be taken by the Legion. You’ll be a hero, a knight, sailing the stars.’
>The boy looked at her for a long time. ‘How old are you, mother?’
>‘Twenty-six revolutions.’
>‘Are you too old to take the trials?’
>She kissed his forehead before she spoke. Suddenly she was smiling, and the tension in the small room evaporated. ‘I can’t take the trials. I’m a girl. And you won’t be able to take them if you’re just like your father was.’
>‘But the Legion takes boys from the gangs all the time.’
>‘It didn’t always.’ She lifted him away, and returned to stirring the noodles in the pan. ‘Remember, it takes some boys from the gangs. But it’s always looking for the best and brightest stars. Promise me you’ll be one of those?’
>‘Yes, mother.’
>‘No more silence in tuition?’
>‘No, mother.’
------
Much, much later in the 41st millenium. Talos Valcoran is speaking to his slave, Octavia.
>‘It’s... Octavia. I am a warrior, not a scribe or a literist. I lack the words to do it justice. Yes, Hell’s Iris is a dock.’
>‘You say that like it’s a curse. “I am a warrior”.’ Octavia licked her dry lips before speaking. ‘What did you want to do with your life?’ she asked. ‘I told you the truth: I’d always dreamed of guiding such a warship, and for better or worse, fate gave me what I wished for. But what about you? Do you mind if I ask?’
>Talos laughed again, that same whispering chuckle, and tapped the defiled aquila emblazoned across his chest.
>‘I wanted to be a hero.’ A moment later, he masked his scarred face behind his skulled helm. Red eye lenses stared at her, devoid of all emotion. ‘And look how that worked out.’
On a different world, Talos Valcoran might have been a virtuous and honorable marine. Becoming much more than who he was with the Night Lords. He wanted to be a hero, and in some way sure he might have been a hero to very few. But with the Night Lords, there are no heroes.