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A Thursday Prompt story
© 2025 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
technicolor_pie, color by 
Major Matt Mason
Prompt: validity
The Sovereign’s order had been a simple one, disseminated to several shlani: Please attend me at my office in the Palace, at the sixth cycle of Day 215.
And those shlani obeyed, knowing what the date portended and knowing what their roles were.
The first to arrive were the Presiding Officer of the Governing Council and the Imperial Family Council’s leader; they were soon followed by two others, the High Priest in formal robes with an acolyte bearing the klath.
The final participants arrived a few fractions later. The High Admiral and the commander of the Imperial Guard entered the office, followed by two Guards carrying a locked strongbox. As the office door closed, they set their burden down on the floor.
Facing them were Tarval XXI and his oldest son and heir, Dorvan. Tarval was in uniform in his office as the Supreme Marshal of the Empire; Dorvan wore his Fleet uniform. Tarval stepped out from around his desk to face the small assembly, Dorvan staying a step behind his father. “Thank you all for coming,” the Sovereign said.
“Today is the twenty-sixth anniversary of my accession,” he said, “and by law and custom I am required to advise my heir.” He pointed at the floor in front of him. “Dorvan k’chat e’t Tarval, kneel.”
His son took a breath and complied, settling to his knees facing the other shlani. “Is my heir worthy?” the Sovereign asked.
The Family representative bowed. “He is worthy, my Lord.”
Tarval gestured, and the High Priest turned and took the axe from the acolyte. He rested the edge of the blade on the lid of the strongbox and said, “We call upon the Powers, and the Deities, to bless Dorvan son of Tarval.” He stepped back as the High Admiral removed a key from her uniform and she unlocked the case, opening the lid and moving away.
Nestled on padding sat a chain of office composed of wide, flat links, each plaque bearing symbols inscribed in platinum wire and decorated with gems. The sense of great age about it seemed almost a physical thing.
The High Priest bowed over the axe in his hands. The Family representative and the Presiding Officer also bowed, while the High Admiral and the Guard commander saluted.
“What you see before you,” Tarval told his son, “is the Collar of Sovereignty, ka Mūrchan e’t Tārinjir. It has been worn by every Sovereign since the Savior himself.” He moved to rest his hand on his son’s shoulder. “It is the Holy Burden,” and he gestured to the two Guards, “and the true symbol of the Sovereign’s authority.”
The two officers lifted the Collar from its case and carried it forward. “You are being allowed to wear this so that you may know that true sovereignty is a burden and a responsibility,” and Tarval moved his hand away as the two Guards lowered the Collar onto Dorvan’s shoulders.
Dorvan almost fell over as he took its full weight on his shoulders, but he clenched his teeth and straightened up. “No Sovereign’s rule is real until they have felt the burden with their own flesh; the weight of millennia and the hopes and dreams and fears of the Race itself, embodied in the Collar.” Tavral smiled. “Stand, Dorvan son of Tarval.”
It was an effort, and he had to concentrate on maintaining his balance, but he finally got to his feet.
“Behold my Heir,” Tarval said, “for he is worthy, and has felt the Holy Burden that awaits him.” The other shlani bowed before the Guards lifted the Collar from Dorvan’s shoulders and replaced it in its reliquary. The High Admiral locked it and pocketed the key.
The High Priest stepped forward and faced the klath so that the edge of the axe blade was pointed at Dorvan. “Know that to wear the Burden lightly,” he said, “is to invite the disfavor of the Deities, and the wrath of the Race, for to do so shows that you are illegitimate and untrustworthy.”
Dorvan swallowed. “I understand.” One of his father’s predecessors, Tarval XIX, had earned his sobriquet of Oathbreaker for his attitude toward ruling and towards the people. His military reverses and madness had been taken as signs from the Deities that They had withdrawn their sanction from his rule.
Tarval XIX had been beheaded with the same klath that faced him now.
“When the time comes,” the younger kam said, “I will swear to the Oath those who came before me swore, and I will adhere to what I promise.”
The axe withdrew and the High Priest bowed to him. “For now, that is enough.”
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2025 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
technicolor_pie, color by 
Major Matt MasonPrompt: validity
The Sovereign’s order had been a simple one, disseminated to several shlani: Please attend me at my office in the Palace, at the sixth cycle of Day 215.
And those shlani obeyed, knowing what the date portended and knowing what their roles were.
The first to arrive were the Presiding Officer of the Governing Council and the Imperial Family Council’s leader; they were soon followed by two others, the High Priest in formal robes with an acolyte bearing the klath.
The final participants arrived a few fractions later. The High Admiral and the commander of the Imperial Guard entered the office, followed by two Guards carrying a locked strongbox. As the office door closed, they set their burden down on the floor.
Facing them were Tarval XXI and his oldest son and heir, Dorvan. Tarval was in uniform in his office as the Supreme Marshal of the Empire; Dorvan wore his Fleet uniform. Tarval stepped out from around his desk to face the small assembly, Dorvan staying a step behind his father. “Thank you all for coming,” the Sovereign said.
“Today is the twenty-sixth anniversary of my accession,” he said, “and by law and custom I am required to advise my heir.” He pointed at the floor in front of him. “Dorvan k’chat e’t Tarval, kneel.”
His son took a breath and complied, settling to his knees facing the other shlani. “Is my heir worthy?” the Sovereign asked.
The Family representative bowed. “He is worthy, my Lord.”
Tarval gestured, and the High Priest turned and took the axe from the acolyte. He rested the edge of the blade on the lid of the strongbox and said, “We call upon the Powers, and the Deities, to bless Dorvan son of Tarval.” He stepped back as the High Admiral removed a key from her uniform and she unlocked the case, opening the lid and moving away.
Nestled on padding sat a chain of office composed of wide, flat links, each plaque bearing symbols inscribed in platinum wire and decorated with gems. The sense of great age about it seemed almost a physical thing.
The High Priest bowed over the axe in his hands. The Family representative and the Presiding Officer also bowed, while the High Admiral and the Guard commander saluted.
“What you see before you,” Tarval told his son, “is the Collar of Sovereignty, ka Mūrchan e’t Tārinjir. It has been worn by every Sovereign since the Savior himself.” He moved to rest his hand on his son’s shoulder. “It is the Holy Burden,” and he gestured to the two Guards, “and the true symbol of the Sovereign’s authority.”
The two officers lifted the Collar from its case and carried it forward. “You are being allowed to wear this so that you may know that true sovereignty is a burden and a responsibility,” and Tarval moved his hand away as the two Guards lowered the Collar onto Dorvan’s shoulders.
Dorvan almost fell over as he took its full weight on his shoulders, but he clenched his teeth and straightened up. “No Sovereign’s rule is real until they have felt the burden with their own flesh; the weight of millennia and the hopes and dreams and fears of the Race itself, embodied in the Collar.” Tavral smiled. “Stand, Dorvan son of Tarval.”
It was an effort, and he had to concentrate on maintaining his balance, but he finally got to his feet.
“Behold my Heir,” Tarval said, “for he is worthy, and has felt the Holy Burden that awaits him.” The other shlani bowed before the Guards lifted the Collar from Dorvan’s shoulders and replaced it in its reliquary. The High Admiral locked it and pocketed the key.
The High Priest stepped forward and faced the klath so that the edge of the axe blade was pointed at Dorvan. “Know that to wear the Burden lightly,” he said, “is to invite the disfavor of the Deities, and the wrath of the Race, for to do so shows that you are illegitimate and untrustworthy.”
Dorvan swallowed. “I understand.” One of his father’s predecessors, Tarval XIX, had earned his sobriquet of Oathbreaker for his attitude toward ruling and towards the people. His military reverses and madness had been taken as signs from the Deities that They had withdrawn their sanction from his rule.
Tarval XIX had been beheaded with the same klath that faced him now.
“When the time comes,” the younger kam said, “I will swear to the Oath those who came before me swore, and I will adhere to what I promise.”
The axe withdrew and the High Priest bowed to him. “For now, that is enough.”
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Alien (Other)
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 55.3 kB
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