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| - “We’re due for a full moon” This is true; in ten days, Najahal shall be high in the evening sky, brilliant, round and in bloom with golden light..always a harbinger of good fortune. That’s why both Josym’s entry into the Chatos Knighthood and his initiation will take place under the blessing of the full moon. Josym finds the whole idea amusing. Earlier today, we were back in the solarium, although under the cover of grey clouds and persistent rain. We’ve found something else in common besides our love of words. We also have a strong dislike for the absence of the sun. For two days now, it has rained, and rained, and rained. It’s depressing to see so much water falling to the ground. Perhaps it’s some peculiar phobia tucked into our genes from the days of Ysonesse’s flooding. He was at the window, gazing out at the drenched scenery of the garden. “If a full moon comes, do you think anyone around here’s actually going to care? I don’t think most of the citizens on Deiu care about anything, to be honest. Certainly not what’s really important in life.” What brought about this shift in mood? What made him sound so jaded? Perhaps he is beginning to manifest a small bit of his Force power, and he sees some sliver of the future. Or maybe there is something much less mystical and more realistic swaying his mind to such melancholy thoughts. This world isn’t healthy for someone who has a bright spirit. If one is a poisonous person, then he or she can exist perfectly in this place, with no damage to their inner self. But if one is pure, then the place of poison can destroy them sooner or later. “I’ve spent the past year doing nothing. Unless you believe reading and daydreaming are worthwhile activities. There’s so much out there I want to see.” I was caught up in a small piece of embroidery, trying to finish off the final stitches uniting The Star with The Maiden, two obscure mythological figures from the ancient days. The Star floats out from the swaying tendrils of her hair, and is tied to the young girl by six strands of comet dust. Those are represented by six silver threads placed into the fabric as a symbol of the divine link. So I didn’t take in the full meaning of his statement at the time. “I think it’s an excellent idea to get away from what you know and see what else the galaxy has to offer.” “Mother told me the same thing yesterday during our tea chat. We started talking about my future. I’ve been done formal schooling for a year now, and since I’m close to hitting eighteen, I should be doing something meaningful with myself.” This statement was followed by a sigh. “I’ve wasted time. Something has to change. I can’t keep sitting on my rear thrusters decaying like my supposed peers.” I understood his point. What the other children of the gentry do with themselves after the cessation of enforced times with tutors in schoolrooms is a complete shift into rebellious mode. The majority do a luxury-filled miniature version of The Grand Tour, the tradition of many human societies with young people spending exorbitant amounts of money on useless fripperies, and hopping from one planet to another while sticking to the safety and comfort of the best space liners. They only venture out into the tourist locales, those areas populated with duty-free shops, personal assistants that can be rented by the hour, and corner day spas. And all along the way, not one of them actually takes in those places where they are visiting. Foreign environments they’ve only seen on the vids or the Holonet, but they aren’t fascinated. Only blasé. Dead inside. Boredom, it seems, is genetic. “Have you ever thought about continuing your education?” Only two more stitches left, and then silver threads would bind the maiden to her celestial companion. Josym came over to sit on the lounge next to me. “I don’t know what I could study. I would only waste my father’s money. So he’d probably threaten to chop my head off.” This might have been nothing more than a poorly timed and ill-conceived jest. Yet it could mean something else. Hidden deep in the fabric of the House Di’sallach of Quodris is a tainted secret, at least according to certain rumors. It’s nothing specific to be pinpointed. But somehow, the Prestat is involved. “Has your father ever threatened to do anything harmful to you in the past?” He shifted. “Father has never said anything specific to my face. But he’s hated me long enough that it wouldn’t surprise me if some violent thoughts didn’t cross his mind before.” His voice was tense, and what he said confirmed what I and the other high and low servants were aware of for years. The strained relations between the Prestat and his family are obvious. The Lord of Quodris is a man with a wife and three children only because tradition demanded this must be done for all men of the Houses who were selected by right of providence to lead. A sad reality, yes, but it doesn’t provide an excuse for treating his family terribly. I know the majority of the marriages among the nobles aren’t friendly or pleasant. The existence of Commitment as an institution is proof of this sad fact. Deiu is a planet with little hope. Such a terrible place to waste the best years of a man’s life.
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