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Moonwater Perfume/Written at Najahal’s Crowning

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Tomorrow night, the knighting ceremony takes place. Josym becomes part of a false order of paperboard warriors who never actually fight in a battle, who are not chivalric or heroic. But it is the brotherhood of the brave, at least in the minds of the older men who enjoy waxing poetic about that glorious moment when all eyes were focused upon them, and there were no expectations placed upon their heads of being good husbands and fathers, and leaders of our society. It’s all so ridiculous.

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Tomorrow night, the knighting ceremony takes place. Josym becomes part of a false order of paperboard warriors who never actually fight in a battle, who are not chivalric or heroic. But it is the brotherhood of the brave, at least in the minds of the older men who enjoy waxing poetic about that glorious moment when all eyes were focused upon them, and there were no expectations placed upon their heads of being good husbands and fathers, and leaders of our society. It’s all so ridiculous. Once, in days long hidden by the misty past, the knighting ceremony would have taken place outdoors, on a cliff overlooking the glorious expanse of the Northern Sea. But that was when Ysonesse was still a home, rather than a planet of near-legend. And then, the ritual was actually a golden moment, taking place under the natural light of the setting sun. Now, it’s performed indoors under the relatively subdued lighting of one hundred candescent torches placed in abnormal arrangements in variously strewn candelabrum perched around the Induction Chamber like golden birds wearing fiery feathered hats. There’s incense, tons of it according to Lord Reunahn, all utilized in a vain attempt to mask the smell of smoke blending together into one mass of choking scent. Also... Holy Amhrita, I already know that almost every woman in that chamber will be wearing some type of artificial scents. Perfume beads are traditionally woven into the massive shimmersilk skirts of the wives, daughters, nieces, and courtesans...or at least most of them. Oh, that dreadful stench on a day that is already going to be burdensome, and it will only be made worse when my allergies kick in. I’ll have to speak with the house physician and pray he won’t try to argue with me when I ask for a double set of prevention shots. It’s strange to feel melancholic for a place one has never seen. Under certain circumstances, a cynical commentator would suggest that I’m suffering from depression over my present environment. Perhaps they would be right. But an observer inclined towards pessimism should easily be able to notice that what is going to take place less than twenty hours from now is pathetic. Many centuries after the Great Deluge and the Resettlement, the cycle of mock pageantry continues. It wasn’t always like this, of course. Once upon a time, the Chatos Knighthood actually stood for something important. It wasn’t just a silly birthday present for an heir and yet another excuse for the aristos to gather in a manse and have a celebration. It was an esteemed group of knights, both male and female. Originally, it was known as the Chatos Academy. Founded during the flourishing years of our ancestral home, the academy was intended as a finishing school for those children of the nobility who were gifted with sensitivity to the Universal Energy. Eventually, all those who were Force sensitive were allowed to attend the school, either rich or poor. Back then, all the ceremonies held true meaning. In the present, everything grand is artificial, including the rituals. Something needs to be done to change things. I don’t know how or who will do this, but one can hope for better days.