Interlude – Who We Are - Part 3
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek
Post Details
Rh’vaurek gazed at the bed where she lay, her thick black hair, the only remnant of the beauty she had enjoyed on her youth. Now it was neatly pulled back from her wasted grey face, her closed eyes deep set within their sunken sockets. There was barely a movement to indicate that the frail body beneath the crisp sheet was breathing, and her hands were laid one on top of the other as if already in death. He sat, and rested his elbows on his knees, linking his fingers loosely together between them.
As he watched in silence Rh’vaurek wondered if she still blamed him for ruining her life. When she had not been blaming him she blamed the family who had expelled her and when it was not their fault the blame fell on the man who had abandoned them both, the father whose name she had never told him, and whose name Rh’vaurek would probably never know.
Rh’vaurek was aware of the twisted parallel with his own history. Only he had been the one that Isha’s family disapproved of. When faced with the ultimatum Isha treated the prospect of a future without rank, status, influence and wealth with eminent practicality; she was not foolish enough to believe that life could be founded on love alone.
Decades before that Rh’vaurek’s mother had put her faith in romance, trusting in her lover to stand by her as he had promised to do. But once the novelty of a beautiful young wife had worn off and the practicalities of survival applied themselves Rh’vaurek’s father began to see things differently, - Dhivael ir-Riuurren t’Raedhoel was a magnificent prospect and the key to an easier life, Dhivael ir-Riuurren on the other hand was a woman with no family or connections, and an appetite for a lifestyle that she could no longer afford to support.
By the time Rh’vaurek was born he was gone.
It was impossible not to be introspective in this place. Rh’vaurek thought.
He had avoided the tenement as much as he could when he was a child finding a family for himself among the other boys in the neighbourhood; they roamed in packs, stealing, bullying and fighting. Rh’vaurek was big for his age but that meant that when he got into fights it was usually with the older boys rather than those his own age. It was due to them that he knew what his mother did for a living and even back then he felt honour bound to break the face of anyone who named her a ghache in his presence - this life had been forced upon her by a House which had expelled her and he was the only one left to defend her.
In these parts d’Sora was still used by the authorities as a tool to cull numbers to a manageable level before those who met the basic standard were pumped into the creaking public education system which held them until they were sixteen and old enough to do their military service – the lucky ones did not return.
That was all that life promised Rh’vaurek; he learned to fight on the streets, he learned from his mother that the ruling elite could not be trusted, he learned from the gangs that he had a natural talent for leadership, and he learned from experience that the only tool that would always be with him was his own body and mind, both of which he used to their fullest advantage.
Even the lowest schools tended to have one teacher who took responsibility for informing the authorities of pupils who showed exceptional talent which might otherwise be missed. The benefit to the Empire was immense, such discoveries were rare but once made these individuals tended to dedicate their lives to their careers owing everything they were to the state.
When the delegation came Rh’vaurek had no idea they had come to assess him in particular. Along with a few others he was simply told to answer their questions, to demonstrate what they requested and to undergo the tests they required - both physically and mentally Rh’vaurek far outstripped his peers.
It was some weeks later when the knock on the door came.
Rh’vaurek found it harder and harder to ignore his mother’s ‘profession’ and had given some serious thought to following the next ‘visitor’ she entertained and cutting his throat in an alleyway, he could do it, he knew he could. He gave her a sullen glare as he opened the door.
“What do you want?” Rh’vaurek asked eyeing the three uniformed men warily, one of them held a padd. Surely if he or his mother were in trouble they’d have broken the door down.
“You are Rh’vaurek …what?” one of them said looking up from the device.
Rh’vaurek had not heard his mother come up behind him, “Rh’vaurek Raedheol,” she told them appending her old family name to his. “What has he done?” she asked.
“Your son is a very fortunate young man,” the one holding the padd said as he added the family name to the record. He did not wait for an invitation but stepped past both Rh’vaurek and his mother, clearly thinking he had already extended enough courtesy to the likes of them.
Rh’vaurek was about to say something as the other two men followed him in but his mother’s hand on his shoulder stopped him, “Close the door, Rh’vaurek,” she told him and followed them into the apartment.
Dhivael might have fallen far in life, but she recognised an opportunity when she saw one. By the time her son joined them she had offered refreshments which had been refused and was sitting in one of the two armchairs, the other was occupied by the man with the padd. Rh’vaurek folded his arms and stood near the chair his mother used.
The man peered around the room with some distaste, as he did so Rh’vaurek was certain that he knew everything about them already. “Raedheol was recently assessed by a government institution, his results were … impressive,” the man told them, “Indeed records have not shown similar performance in a century. We have come to take Raedheol to an elite military academy where these raw skills we be shaped and trained for the benefit of the Empire.”
They were not offering him a choice, Rh’vaurek recognised that, but if it would get him out of this cesspit he would join a dance academy if they ordered him to.
Half an hour later, once the details were settled, the twelve year old Rh’vaurek Raedheol accompanied them. It would be a decade before he saw his mother again.
Rh’vaurek chuckled and leaned forward reaching for the sleeping woman’s hand. Her skin was dry and crépey beneath his palm, the bones beneath like brittle twigs. She had pushed the name Raedheol onto him that day both to remind him of who he was, and to irk any member of that House he happened to encounter. He had worn it ever since.
As the decades had passed Rh’vaurek had made the name his own. These days when the name ‘Raedheol’ was heard people thought first of him not of the once powerful House whose influence had mysteriously eroded over the last fifty years.
Rh’vaurek squeezed the hand very gently between his palms, “Soon, ri’Nanov, I will have done what you asked, and then you can finally sleep,” he told her softly, “the House is ready to fall. Your father is about to make a grave political mistake, and when he does it is my department which will be called in to clean up. Then I will make him understand the pain he has caused you, and why everything that he thought was his to command has been taken from him.”
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek
Post Details
| Title | Who We Are - Part 3 | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | Commander Isha t'Vaurek | |
| Posted | Sun Aug 22, 2010 @ 1:02pm | |
| Location | ch'Havran |
As he watched in silence Rh’vaurek wondered if she still blamed him for ruining her life. When she had not been blaming him she blamed the family who had expelled her and when it was not their fault the blame fell on the man who had abandoned them both, the father whose name she had never told him, and whose name Rh’vaurek would probably never know.
Rh’vaurek was aware of the twisted parallel with his own history. Only he had been the one that Isha’s family disapproved of. When faced with the ultimatum Isha treated the prospect of a future without rank, status, influence and wealth with eminent practicality; she was not foolish enough to believe that life could be founded on love alone.
Decades before that Rh’vaurek’s mother had put her faith in romance, trusting in her lover to stand by her as he had promised to do. But once the novelty of a beautiful young wife had worn off and the practicalities of survival applied themselves Rh’vaurek’s father began to see things differently, - Dhivael ir-Riuurren t’Raedhoel was a magnificent prospect and the key to an easier life, Dhivael ir-Riuurren on the other hand was a woman with no family or connections, and an appetite for a lifestyle that she could no longer afford to support.
By the time Rh’vaurek was born he was gone.
It was impossible not to be introspective in this place. Rh’vaurek thought.
He had avoided the tenement as much as he could when he was a child finding a family for himself among the other boys in the neighbourhood; they roamed in packs, stealing, bullying and fighting. Rh’vaurek was big for his age but that meant that when he got into fights it was usually with the older boys rather than those his own age. It was due to them that he knew what his mother did for a living and even back then he felt honour bound to break the face of anyone who named her a ghache in his presence - this life had been forced upon her by a House which had expelled her and he was the only one left to defend her.
In these parts d’Sora was still used by the authorities as a tool to cull numbers to a manageable level before those who met the basic standard were pumped into the creaking public education system which held them until they were sixteen and old enough to do their military service – the lucky ones did not return.
That was all that life promised Rh’vaurek; he learned to fight on the streets, he learned from his mother that the ruling elite could not be trusted, he learned from the gangs that he had a natural talent for leadership, and he learned from experience that the only tool that would always be with him was his own body and mind, both of which he used to their fullest advantage.
Even the lowest schools tended to have one teacher who took responsibility for informing the authorities of pupils who showed exceptional talent which might otherwise be missed. The benefit to the Empire was immense, such discoveries were rare but once made these individuals tended to dedicate their lives to their careers owing everything they were to the state.
When the delegation came Rh’vaurek had no idea they had come to assess him in particular. Along with a few others he was simply told to answer their questions, to demonstrate what they requested and to undergo the tests they required - both physically and mentally Rh’vaurek far outstripped his peers.
It was some weeks later when the knock on the door came.
Rh’vaurek found it harder and harder to ignore his mother’s ‘profession’ and had given some serious thought to following the next ‘visitor’ she entertained and cutting his throat in an alleyway, he could do it, he knew he could. He gave her a sullen glare as he opened the door.
“What do you want?” Rh’vaurek asked eyeing the three uniformed men warily, one of them held a padd. Surely if he or his mother were in trouble they’d have broken the door down.
“You are Rh’vaurek …what?” one of them said looking up from the device.
Rh’vaurek had not heard his mother come up behind him, “Rh’vaurek Raedheol,” she told them appending her old family name to his. “What has he done?” she asked.
“Your son is a very fortunate young man,” the one holding the padd said as he added the family name to the record. He did not wait for an invitation but stepped past both Rh’vaurek and his mother, clearly thinking he had already extended enough courtesy to the likes of them.
Rh’vaurek was about to say something as the other two men followed him in but his mother’s hand on his shoulder stopped him, “Close the door, Rh’vaurek,” she told him and followed them into the apartment.
Dhivael might have fallen far in life, but she recognised an opportunity when she saw one. By the time her son joined them she had offered refreshments which had been refused and was sitting in one of the two armchairs, the other was occupied by the man with the padd. Rh’vaurek folded his arms and stood near the chair his mother used.
The man peered around the room with some distaste, as he did so Rh’vaurek was certain that he knew everything about them already. “Raedheol was recently assessed by a government institution, his results were … impressive,” the man told them, “Indeed records have not shown similar performance in a century. We have come to take Raedheol to an elite military academy where these raw skills we be shaped and trained for the benefit of the Empire.”
They were not offering him a choice, Rh’vaurek recognised that, but if it would get him out of this cesspit he would join a dance academy if they ordered him to.
Half an hour later, once the details were settled, the twelve year old Rh’vaurek Raedheol accompanied them. It would be a decade before he saw his mother again.
Rh’vaurek chuckled and leaned forward reaching for the sleeping woman’s hand. Her skin was dry and crépey beneath his palm, the bones beneath like brittle twigs. She had pushed the name Raedheol onto him that day both to remind him of who he was, and to irk any member of that House he happened to encounter. He had worn it ever since.
As the decades had passed Rh’vaurek had made the name his own. These days when the name ‘Raedheol’ was heard people thought first of him not of the once powerful House whose influence had mysteriously eroded over the last fifty years.
Rh’vaurek squeezed the hand very gently between his palms, “Soon, ri’Nanov, I will have done what you asked, and then you can finally sleep,” he told her softly, “the House is ready to fall. Your father is about to make a grave political mistake, and when he does it is my department which will be called in to clean up. Then I will make him understand the pain he has caused you, and why everything that he thought was his to command has been taken from him.”