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.