Honourbound Stars

[Maverick]

Imperial Palace, Oraka, Osprian Timarchy
0 BBT

 High Admiral Rhakarrax’thar Cirrokh’Kiirna walked through the lavish white-gilded corridors of the Imperial Palace. His regalia and medals rattled against his uniform, the sound of his place within Osprian society. Born to the renowned Cirrokh noble house of the Kiirna clan, Rhakarrax was the living embodiment of his ancient forefathers’ legacy who fought against the Veyrathians, Khylarians, Kharuun and Tebadine. His bloodline was one of martial pride and duty to the Palladic Wreath, the regal headpiece of the Timarchs. Whatever the Timarch would ask of him, he would serve dutifully.
 He wasn’t sure why exactly he’d been summoned. The wargames had passed for months now and the Timarch had already congratulated him for it. He couldn’t fathom anything, since all seemed well within the Timarchy. Its stability seemingly allowed the Osprians to flourish perpetually.
 - “Your Honourable Majesty, the Most Honourable High Admiral Sir Rhakarrax Cirrok’Kiirna has arrived,” one of the servants proclaimed as he passed through the door.
 Rhakarrax bowed before his monarch and held it for more than decorum required it.
 - “Your Honourable Majesty, I have arrived as You commanded,” Rhakarrax greeted Him.
 - “May your feathers shine like the stars, High Admiral. Please, join me,” the Timarch swept His hand towards the balcony nearby.
 Timarch Rokhorro XXI was one of a long-standing nearly divine line of the Skavirian Dynasty. His regal plumes glittered upon the touch of sun rays as they entered the balcony, overseeing the capital of the Timarchy.
 - “Sire, may I enquire as to why I’ve been summoned. I do not wish to speculate on Your behalf.”
 - “Always straight to the point, you martial lords.” The Timarch sighed softly.
 - “Only because we serve as the Nine Springs taught us, Sire.”
 - “Very well then, High Admiral. I’ve brought you here for one specific reason. It seems the times as we’ve known them are coming to an end,” the Timarch replied cryptically.
 - “I’m not sure I understand, Sire,” Rhakarrax answered hesitantly.
 - “Oh, please forgive me for indulging in mystery a little. We’ve received a communication from another star nation, the Zahamana Commonwealth. Our intelligence agencies have never heard of them. Nor do our ancient chronicles mention them.”
 - “Do we know their intent?” Rhakarrax’s military mind reflected aloud.
 - “Yes, High Admiral. They’ve invited us for diplomatic talks?”
 - “But, Sire… How did they find us? Did the Palladic Order reveal us to them?”
 - “Don’t worry, High Admiral. They didn’t find us, but their undesignated message did. However, I already answered their invitation to their diplomatic talks. We will see what this section of space has to offer us.”
 - “But, Sire… Your Domain is far-reaching as it is. We don’t need anyone else. Your Dynasty’s 10,000 year long reign is a testament to that.”
 - “Perhaps… But neither can we miss a chance to learn what’s beyond our fringes. From what I’ve come to understand, this King Zolahan is expecting many visitors. It will be a chance to show all our feathers to multiple factions at once, rather than divest resources to interact with each of them.”
 - “Sire… Forgive me… But would that be forbearing? I meant no disrespect.”
 Rhakarrax hesitated before posing his question. He didn’t fear any retribution from his monarch, but solely that he might have insulted Him in some form.
 - “There’s nothing to forgive, High Admiral. You share the same reaction as the High Court of Prelates, and I don’t fault you for it. We’re all byproducts of our long-standing prosperity. I’ve given it plenty of thought and consulted with many advisors. Ultimately, we’ve decided that this endeavour would be worthwhile. Our goal is merely to impress, not forge alliances. Something that you will make abundantly clear to whomever is out there.”
 - “Sire?” Rhakarrax asked Hims perplexed.
 - “Indeed, High Admiral. I want you to by My representative there.”
 - “Sire… Wouldn’t this fall under the jurisdiction of Prelacy of Astral Affairs? Surely, the Senate must confirm any ambassadors for such diplomatic mission.”
 - “Hence why you’ll be representing Me not the Timarchy. You will act as a Legate of the Palladic Wreath.”
 The words choked Rhakarrax. It had been millennia since such a Legate of the monarchy had been appointed. They were appointed directly as representatives of the monarch and spoke with its authority. To be bestowed such honours and responsibility was no gesture to trifle with.
 Rhakarrax immediately bowed next to the Timarch.
 - “Sire… I’m honoured by your consideration, but surely there are more qualified persons than me.”
 - “Oh? More qualified to command a contingent of 35,000 ships to this meeting?”
 The Timarch handed out his arms, inviting Rhakarrax to stand up again. He looked in his eyes, all four of them in a genuine gesture of seeing Rhakarrax’s character. ‘Directly into his honour’ as the Osprian saying went.
 - “I share the same security concerns as you, High Admiral. That’s why I’ll ask you to take your best 35,000 ships to accompany you. We will make it clear to the outsiders that we are not to be trotted over. If they wish to maintain diplomatic relations with us, we will welcome it. But we cannot assure all of the invitees will have our best intentions at heart. I trust your personal judgement on that as well. You have the trained eye to recognise the predators of the dark.”
 - “Why my, Sire? Why not an official ambassador?”
 - “The invitation was quite expeditious and a Senate confirmation will take too long. Besides, we have a point to be made.” The Timarch paused before continuing on, taking in the view of His domain’s pride. “You are our best strategist, High Admiral. Many of your peers admire your skill and My advisors concur. Should things fall into disarray, I want you to make it out of there and make it clear to whomever is out there, that we are a force to be reckoned with. The previous wargames have affirmed you are our champion in the stars.”
 The compliments of the Timarch filled Rhakarrax with pride. It was the utter confirmation of his ancestral legacy. The personal lauding from the monarch was among the highest honours in Osprian society. Regardless if it was public or not.
 - “When would you have me leave, Sire?”
 - “As soon as possible, but not before you say your farewells to your family. The same goes for your crew as well. I don’t anticipate an escalation, but you all deserve a good rest before embarking in this journey.”
 - “Your wisdom is as perpetual as starlight, Sire. I will not fail you.”
 - “I’ll count on that, Most Honourable Legate. May your feathers blind the outsiders with the awe of stars.”
 The Timarch then put His hand on Rhakarrax’s right shoulder, the final seal of royal endorsement before he’d embark on his quest among the stars.

[Maverick]

Tiranhold, Zahamana Commonwealth
0 ABT

 Rhirriker’thar Khannarro’Pirrikha arrived on the capital world of the Zahamana Commonwealth. He was a young and eager Osprian looking to explore the stars. When the Commonwealth invited the Timarchy to join diplomatic talks, High Admiral Rhakarrax had brought enough personnel to operate extensive diplomatic missions. Not just for the Commonwealth, but also for the star nation veiled in the Tiyanki Territories. Rhirriker was part of that entourage.
 Although not officially appointed by the Timarchy’s government, he was indeed part of an independent mission by the Palladic Order. Duty-bound as a true Paladin of the Order, he accepted the quest to explore the Tiyanki Territories.
 The trees look so odd here, he remarked within his thoughts. I wonder if the plants will look even stranger in the Territories.
 The wind gusted the giant jagged purple leaves of the Kiman palm trees, making a rattling sound Rhirriker had never experienced before. He’d grown up with the same flora that inhabited the capital world of Oraka. Jirrek, his homeworld, was one of terraformed beauty with imported flora that was omnipresent even on the few ventures away from his homeworld. Thus, this was Rhirriker’s first true journey into the unknown and the rustling trees sounded its beginning.
 A lordling by birth, he grew up with free reign. Although part of the Osprian nobility, his family hadn’t exactly achieved much renown other than their first forefather invested into the nobility. Some of his clan members were elected, but his family was unremarkable compared to the true aristocrats of the Timarchy. Jikanner’thar Khannarro’Pirrikha, his great-great-great-great-grandfather, had proven his worth as an apt Arbiter within the judicial halls of his homeworld.
 I’ll show you all that we still have more to give the Timarchy than you believe, he spoke to his family’s spirits. The saga of our bloodline is still unfinished.
 However, the echoes of Master Shankarro’thar dwelled on his mind and he felt as if he could hear it in the rustling.
 Ambition unchecked is the death of honour.
 The warning of one of his masters was one he hoped to dissuade, but he still something nagging him from the inside. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for ambitious Osprians to butt heads with the Ninth Spring of Honour. Deference was expected of all Osprians, regardless of creed or status or even ambitious dreams.
 Perhaps he was right to question my eagerness for this mission… I guess I’ll have to prove my purity with this mission. I know there’s a path for us to prove our excellence without swaying from the path. I just… I just need to find it.
 It was then that a small avianoid flew on the balcony’s balustrade. A joyful bright blue fellow chirping towards him. It didn’t have the same amount of eyes as him, but he felt a certain kindred towards it. He couldn’t help but smile as it eventually flew off, a reminder that not all in live is bound by seriousness.
 Leaving the Order’s residency on Tiranhold, he descended the stairs towards the market bazaars on Tiranhold. A few of the Osprian merchants that had come had already set up shop and goods from the Timarchy had grown popular with the locals. Within the broad square between orange sandstone houses were hundreds of people enjoying the early noon of Tiranhold’s cycle.
 Towering over most of the natives, he attracted some attention as the locals weren’t yet accustomed to his species’ presence. This also gave him an advantage as he could assess any suspect individuals. Not that he expected any, but a Paladin should always be prudent. It was then that he noticed a small human boy investigating some of the other locals.
 Within the next dozen heartbeats, the child snatched a purse from a rotund merchant. The careless man screamed on the top of his lungs, pointing to the fleeing boy.
 - “Damn, streetrat stole my purse! Get him!”
 As if by reflex, Rhirriker jumped over the masses and ran on top of the merchant stalls. Thanks to his Skelarian physique, he swiftly followed the child into a dark narrow alley. He jumped next to him and lifted him up by his feet.
 - “Release me. I did nothing wrong! Why are you following me?” The dangling child screamed.
 - “You stole that purse. Honour demands you be punished according to your laws,” his chirping spoke through the translator.
 - “Honour?! Where’s the honour in living on the streets while that man fills his belly with candy?”
 - “Streets? Do you not have a home?”
 - “No. I’m… I’m abandoned. I grew up on these streets.”
 Rhirriker didn’t quite understand what the child was saying. It was almost as if the whole concept was unnatural.
 How can a society leave those vulnerable to fend for themselves? Do those with means not help those in need here? Are we really that well-off in the Timarchy?
 - “How?” He asked the child bluntly.
 - “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask King Zolohan about it? I’m sure he has plenty of room in that palace of his. I grew up here for all my life. No one really cares about me here and I’ll be damned if they ever catch me!”
 - “Promise me you won’t run.”
 - “Why?” The child snorted back.
 - “Because I care.”
 - “Why should I trust you?”
 - “Because I’m an Osprian.”
 - “Is that why you’re all covered in feathers?”
 He simply nodded.
 - “Do you promise you won’t run away?”
 - “All right,” the child said begrudgingly.
 With caress, Rhirriker put the boy down on his feet again and knelt before him.
 - “I’m Rhirriker’thar Khannarro’Pirrikha, Paladin of the Palladic Order,” he explained with slight bow.
 - “And I’m Jorn. I guess it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
 - “Do you have no surname?”
 - “No. Not that I know.”
 The more Rhirriker talked with the boy, the more perplexed he was by the whole situation. The concept of having no surname meant one was cast out for dishonour. At least that was in the case of the Osprians and Rhirriker quickly set aside his own prejudice.
 - “That is… Unknown to me. But why did you steal that purse?”
 - “I’ve got to survive with something. Life ain’t cheap, you know?”
 - “Is there no one that will help you?”
 - “Who? No one ever helped me.”
 - “I will help.”
 - “Why?”
 - “Because honour demands it, but it requires something from you as well.”
 - “What does this honour want from me?”
 - “That you give back what you stole and apologise.”
 - “And how will that solve my problems?”
 - “Because your problems will grow if you don’t.”
 - “I don’t see how that solves my hunger, Rir… Riri… Ririker.”
 - “Do you require food and shelter?”
 - “Not really. I’ve got my own little camp a few corners.”
 - “Show me.”
 For every step Rhirriker took, the child need to take five. He struggled to find the right pace as the child guided him to his place. When they eventually arrived, he saw an improvised roof made out of metal plates with a few rugs and blankets under it. The whole sight disgusted him. No one else was in sight. Jorn was left to rot all by himself somehow. It didn’t feel right to him, but his honour required him to follow the rules of Tiranhold.
 - “You see what I’m dealing with? It’s quite comfy, but not as comfy as the palace that old fart lives in.”
 - “Do you… Like it here?”
 - “I don’t really have any other alternatives, do I? It’s all I’ve known. The only place I truly feel safe.”
 Jorn’s words grew heavy on Rhirriker’s heart. Yet whatever he felt, honour still demanded he bring Jorn to justice. Not his definition of it, but Tiranhold’s. For the first time, he felt that honour stood in the way of doing what is right. He froze for a few heartbeats.
 - “So… You still want me to apologise?”
 - “Yes.”
 - “And how will that solve my problems, eh?”
 - “I will offer you shelter and food at my residence. You don’t need to remain here.”
 - “What if I like it here?” Jorn replied with venomous sneer.
 Rhirriker knew he needed to convince the boy with something, but with what? The child was stubborn in its ways. Even if they were deplorable.
 - “I’ll give you a free meal in exchange for returning what you stole.”
 - “Really? What kind of meal?”
 - “Whatever you’d like.”
 - “You’ve got yourself a deal, Rirriker.”
 Without much fuss, the duo returned to the bazaar and found the merchant again. Gently, Rhirriker pushed Jorn forward.
 - “I’m sorry, mister. For stealing your purse that is.”
 - “Well hand it back, immediately!”
 Rhirriker didn’t appreciate the merchant’s tone. Honour required him to accept Jorn’s apology, but he only sneered at him. It had become clear by now that honour worked differently here.
 The man then took his purse and gave Rhirriker a mere nod. It was as if this rectification was a hassle to him.
 Strange people these Zahamanans.
 He then ascended the stairs again towards his temple. He was a lot quicker than Jorn and offered him a ride on his shoulders. The boy chuckled the rest of the way up and enjoyed a thick soup of local cuisine.
 - “You can stay here if you’d like, Jorn. You don’t need to live the way you are right now.”
 - “Uh-huh, but I’m free there no?”
 - “You would be no prisoner here. Besides, we’ll take care of you with plenty of meals. Honour demands us we help those in need.”
 - “I’m beginning to like this honour of yours. All right, I’ll stay a few days if you don’t mind.”
 - “Excellent, I’ll arrange your accommodations.”
 - “Hold on. What about Kalen?”
 - “Kalen?”
 - “My plushie. It’s still at my place in the alley.”
 - “I’ll go bring all your stuff here. Including… Kalen.”
 - “Really?”
 - “Honour demands it.”
 When Rhirriker returned with all of Jorn’s luggage, he could hear the faint sounds of a coin being tossed. When he finally arrived back in the open veranda, he saw Jorn flipping it through the air.
 Honour demands it be returned… But does it serve the interests of honour that coin be returned to the merchant? The question wandered through Rhirriker’s mind. He could have asked a few of the monks’ wisdom, but he already knew the answer to it.
 Where honour was rigid in the Timarchy, it wasn’t so outside of it. A lesson he would learn throughout his journey into the Tiyanki Territories.