Kithrus Crases sighed as he left the warm confines of the capsule into the cold air of his designated captains quarters. He walked into the shower and as the warm water poured over him thought long and hard about what he was going to say. The last time he was before the King was the ceremony that made him a cyber-knight. They never exchanged words in any meaningful sense. He was still in many ways a young man and his father Marcus Crases all dressed up in the robes of his status as holder had more right to speak to the King on that day then he.
What would he say?
Now that with his father gone he was frequently torn between duties as holder and his desire to be in space. Space was the whole reason he left the cyber-knights and enrolled in the capsulleer program. He loved it, the freedom, the power…
The distance from his annoying over bearing traditional father.
The first year in space he practically left the Amarr life style behind. Joined a corporation of friendly but free spirited pilots and enjoyed every second life in Villore could offer.
As time past he felt hollow, missed the tradition he realized he took for granted but still loathed of his father. Kithrus needed to fill the void but without going all the way back to the Kingdom. To do that would be like admitting defeat and ran from his new life in space.
He settled on a middle road, he joined Curatores Veritatis Alliance.
All the righteousness and tradition was there but it was like being drawn into a mirror world. He felt whole again without needed to return to that terrible farm, the opulent estate and that evil man who called him son but barely grasped what being a father was.
Fate was both kind and cruel, his father passed on, murdered by some of the shadier clients Marcas frequently dealt with. The sort you don’t cross which is exactly what a pompous fool man would do. Cruel because the house needed a holder, its Hold need a leader, a judge for its disagreements and crimes. Suddenly the shackles that dragged Kithrus out from the stars were fastened. Duty called, he could not ignore.
Kithrus stepped out of the shower and toweled himself off, his mechanical arm and leg unaffected by sterile water. They were a constant reminder of his Knighthood. The same knighthood that was purging three whole planets of slaves in Kahah.
The reminder why he was here.
He dressed himself in his delivered silver and black holder robes making sure everything about them was perfect. Combed his rich black hair, and did a quick diagnostic of his enhanced eye so just in case.
The young holder sighed. He believed in faith, in God, the King, the Empire, the righteousness of reclaiming but he also believed that to adapt and change is to survive. Kithrus died many times in space, every time he had to account for his errors and short sighted mistakes. He would like to think he learned, though the information of exactly how many times he had died for that knowledge was readily accessible he’d rather not know.
Kithrus walked briskly through the streets of the capital, sparing neither a glance or a nod to anyone who he knew. He walked with purpose and force as his boots clicked his brisk march through the streets.
He had visited the capitol of the kingdom several times with his father, well in his fathers company. He knew every street and shop. He stood in awe of many of the buildings architecture as a boy and even played at the side of a fountain once or twice but today he ghosted them all. He ignored everything but the bare minimum his mind needed to direct him on his way.
The Royal Palace loomed, the house of the ‘Sixth Heir’.
What would the young holder say?
Kithrus had to face a dire choice once, he stood where Soshan Fayez did now if a little inverted and in space. CVA admirals ordered him and the fleet he pulled together to stand down. They had rushed to the Republics defense from the first of Sansha incursions. That day Kithrus’ purpose seemed clear and just; stop the Sansha from gaining more resources and strike a blow at the enemy. The fact it was an act of compassion on Kithrus part was merely a bonus, it was tactically sound.
“If the Matari had Faith they would have Gods protection.” Admiral Epitoth chided over the alliance comms.
“They had me, Ma’am.”
There was a long silence.
“You are relieved of duty till further notice.”
He was forbidden from running ops outside of providence; or in it for that matter, a few weeks but he always felt the sting of five million souls he let down. Kithrus could never logically save them all but the fact he obeyed orders and went back to Providence meant by inaction he was responsible.
He promised himself he would not make that mistake again. He wouldn’t let people die if they didn’t have too. Justice was one thing but cold callousness? No, not again. People had the right to live and to fail, if they were damned it was because they had a chance and failed not because Kithrus didn’t care.
The Kingdom needed reform, this isn’t the act of rebellion, its an act of hope that his people, his King could be wise and just.
Empress Jamyl said the age of slavery was over. This would take a long time to die and there would be growing pains but the Kingdom needs to follow her compassion, the same wisdom that allowed the Kingdom to have a voice in the privy council after two hundred years.
He loved his king, respected him. The King made hard choices in the past, some would argued selfish but he was always wise. Khanid II always listened and stayed open to options, that is how the Kingdom survived after the schism.
Surely Khanid III was likewise open minded?
Kithrus waited as the doors opened that would lead him into the ante chamber and finally the grand chamber where the King sat in court.
By law a holder could not be turned away but if the King was annoyed he could be thrown out after being announced.
Kithrus Avrose Crases waited to be called, he would wait for the people who needed his help, for the slaves both guilty and innocent trapped together for their lives in Fashtar Valley.
He stood proud at attention.
He knew exactly what to say.