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A Thursday Prompt story
© 2019 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: compression
The Homeworld’s rotation reached a certain point, and the Daystar’s light began to drive away the darkness that enveloped the forest around the lake, and the lone kam who knelt before the plain black marble plinth. He knelt there alone, unguarded, and unafraid.
The most obvious differences between Terra and the planet the Kashlani call Gwath ka-shlal are all right there for anyone to see. It’s the second planet of its system, smaller than Terra and with proportionally lighter gravity. Gwath ka-shlal was ceded to the Imperial Family when the Race sought the stars, and it has been maintained in trust ever since as a park.
The Daystar’s light banished the dimmer stars and touched the sky with blues and yellows. Birds began to rouse and call to each other, and details of the lake, the forest, and the plinth could be seen.
Lake Schobrin was the holiest site on the planet; here the Speaker-for-the-Creator had given the Law to the assembled Houses, and when the Savior united the Race he decreed the first anti-pollution legislation when it was learned that the lake’s clear water was being defiled by industrial runoff. All of the planet’s industries were (and are) moved underground, and emissions are carefully monitored. Most of the world’s population is concentrated in three cities, dedicated to running the government and protecting the Sovereign and his family.
The morning light touched the polished black marble and warmed the kam’s back. His fur was brown, but with each hair tipped in red he looked more of a rusty color. It was a trait that occasionally cropped up in his lineage. His name was Tarval, and he was the twenty-first of that name and the ninety-sixth of his family to wear the Imperial Regalia.
For now, though, kneeling before his ancestor’s tomb, he was unclothed.
His tail swept across the groundcover and he slowly got to his feet, staggering for just a moment before the stiffness in his knees subsided. One last bow to the tomb, and he turned away from it and retraced his steps to where he had left his groundcar.
It sensed his approach and the door swung open as its interior lights came on. He took a light robe from the driver’s seat, shouldered into it, and sat down. The door closed, and he set the car to manual before taking the control stick in his right hand.
He’d only been driving for a few moments before a soft chime echoed through the car. Tarval sighed and switched the car’s guidance to automatic before saying, “Yes, Varith?”
The vir’s image appeared displayed on the windscreen. “Narchak, my Lord,” she said with her habitually sunny smile. “The Azravir has asked if you will be finished in time to have breakfast with her.”
“Tell the Empress that I’m on my way to the Palace now,” the Emperor said, stretching a bit before leaning back in his seat. “I suppose you want to go over today’s agenda.”
Varith chuckled. “Aka, since you brought it up, Sovereign, there are meetings with the Foreign and Communications Ministers starting at the third cycle. The fourth cycle – “ She paused as he held up a hand.
“Varith, how much time will I have to spend with my family?”
His aide promptly looked flustered and started looking at her padd. “Ernnh, nnh . . . “
“I thought so. Varith, my working twenty-five cycles out of thirty has always been far too much.” Before she could object he raised a finger. “I know that I get ten days off every month, but even then you and the others still manage to get me to sign documents, promulgate decrees, meet people and take part in ceremonies and conferences. My grandfather barely knew his family and died of stress-related illnesses.” His gaze grew hard. “I will not see that happen to me.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Varith said, dipping her head briefly in a bow. The Sovereign’s word was law and literally life and death to the trillions of the Empire’s inhabitants. She met his gaze. “But, tar mevik, you knew what your position entailed before your accession.”
“Tron g’reget.” There was only one piece of the Imperial Regalia that truly mattered, a chain of office that draped over the shoulders. It dated back to the Savior, and weighed maybe twenty Terran kilograms. Made of gold and heavily adorned with jewels, it symbolized both the splendor of the office and the burden of governing. Tarval glanced out the window, watching the trees going by the car as the vehicle turned onto the mountain road that would lead to the Palace. It passed two rock cairns illuminated by floodlights, the only indication that he was now on the Palace grounds.
After a long moment he turned back to Varith. “Very well. If I recall, the Family Council wants to see me today as well?”
“Yes, Sovereign, after your evening meal with the Empress and your children. Lord Yezhef wouldn’t tell me why, as usual.”
“That’s his prerogative.” The Emperor had only one check on his otherwise unbounded authority. The Council, made up of representatives of his family, had the power to admonish, punish, and even remove the ruler, even going so far as to depose and execute Tarval XIX when the Oathbreaker went mad and murdered two of his cousins. “Tell me the rest of the schedule, Varith.”
“Of course, my Lord. The Primary of the Governing Council will be meeting with you to discuss the agenda for the next Dōvārinfav, and then there’ll be a working lunch with the Minister of Industry and the heads of the three largest Mercantile Fellowships . . . “
The vir droned on and the Sovereign listened as the car made its way past well-concealed guard posts to the Palace’s personal apartments wing.
end
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2019 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: compression
The Homeworld’s rotation reached a certain point, and the Daystar’s light began to drive away the darkness that enveloped the forest around the lake, and the lone kam who knelt before the plain black marble plinth. He knelt there alone, unguarded, and unafraid.
The most obvious differences between Terra and the planet the Kashlani call Gwath ka-shlal are all right there for anyone to see. It’s the second planet of its system, smaller than Terra and with proportionally lighter gravity. Gwath ka-shlal was ceded to the Imperial Family when the Race sought the stars, and it has been maintained in trust ever since as a park.
The Daystar’s light banished the dimmer stars and touched the sky with blues and yellows. Birds began to rouse and call to each other, and details of the lake, the forest, and the plinth could be seen.
Lake Schobrin was the holiest site on the planet; here the Speaker-for-the-Creator had given the Law to the assembled Houses, and when the Savior united the Race he decreed the first anti-pollution legislation when it was learned that the lake’s clear water was being defiled by industrial runoff. All of the planet’s industries were (and are) moved underground, and emissions are carefully monitored. Most of the world’s population is concentrated in three cities, dedicated to running the government and protecting the Sovereign and his family.
The morning light touched the polished black marble and warmed the kam’s back. His fur was brown, but with each hair tipped in red he looked more of a rusty color. It was a trait that occasionally cropped up in his lineage. His name was Tarval, and he was the twenty-first of that name and the ninety-sixth of his family to wear the Imperial Regalia.
For now, though, kneeling before his ancestor’s tomb, he was unclothed.
His tail swept across the groundcover and he slowly got to his feet, staggering for just a moment before the stiffness in his knees subsided. One last bow to the tomb, and he turned away from it and retraced his steps to where he had left his groundcar.
It sensed his approach and the door swung open as its interior lights came on. He took a light robe from the driver’s seat, shouldered into it, and sat down. The door closed, and he set the car to manual before taking the control stick in his right hand.
He’d only been driving for a few moments before a soft chime echoed through the car. Tarval sighed and switched the car’s guidance to automatic before saying, “Yes, Varith?”
The vir’s image appeared displayed on the windscreen. “Narchak, my Lord,” she said with her habitually sunny smile. “The Azravir has asked if you will be finished in time to have breakfast with her.”
“Tell the Empress that I’m on my way to the Palace now,” the Emperor said, stretching a bit before leaning back in his seat. “I suppose you want to go over today’s agenda.”
Varith chuckled. “Aka, since you brought it up, Sovereign, there are meetings with the Foreign and Communications Ministers starting at the third cycle. The fourth cycle – “ She paused as he held up a hand.
“Varith, how much time will I have to spend with my family?”
His aide promptly looked flustered and started looking at her padd. “Ernnh, nnh . . . “
“I thought so. Varith, my working twenty-five cycles out of thirty has always been far too much.” Before she could object he raised a finger. “I know that I get ten days off every month, but even then you and the others still manage to get me to sign documents, promulgate decrees, meet people and take part in ceremonies and conferences. My grandfather barely knew his family and died of stress-related illnesses.” His gaze grew hard. “I will not see that happen to me.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Varith said, dipping her head briefly in a bow. The Sovereign’s word was law and literally life and death to the trillions of the Empire’s inhabitants. She met his gaze. “But, tar mevik, you knew what your position entailed before your accession.”
“Tron g’reget.” There was only one piece of the Imperial Regalia that truly mattered, a chain of office that draped over the shoulders. It dated back to the Savior, and weighed maybe twenty Terran kilograms. Made of gold and heavily adorned with jewels, it symbolized both the splendor of the office and the burden of governing. Tarval glanced out the window, watching the trees going by the car as the vehicle turned onto the mountain road that would lead to the Palace. It passed two rock cairns illuminated by floodlights, the only indication that he was now on the Palace grounds.
After a long moment he turned back to Varith. “Very well. If I recall, the Family Council wants to see me today as well?”
“Yes, Sovereign, after your evening meal with the Empress and your children. Lord Yezhef wouldn’t tell me why, as usual.”
“That’s his prerogative.” The Emperor had only one check on his otherwise unbounded authority. The Council, made up of representatives of his family, had the power to admonish, punish, and even remove the ruler, even going so far as to depose and execute Tarval XIX when the Oathbreaker went mad and murdered two of his cousins. “Tell me the rest of the schedule, Varith.”
“Of course, my Lord. The Primary of the Governing Council will be meeting with you to discuss the agenda for the next Dōvārinfav, and then there’ll be a working lunch with the Minister of Industry and the heads of the three largest Mercantile Fellowships . . . “
The vir droned on and the Sovereign listened as the car made its way past well-concealed guard posts to the Palace’s personal apartments wing.
end
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Alien (Other)
Size 120 x 92px
File Size 40.2 kB
Listed in Folders
His family would have something to say about that. The regalia is heavy for an explicit reason - ruling is a burden. He can delegate to the various ministers, of course, but all major decisions are handed down by him.
And with roughly four trillion shlani in the Empire, that's a lot of people to care for.
And with roughly four trillion shlani in the Empire, that's a lot of people to care for.
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