Tag: fiction

The Kingdom of Tokavsk, Session 10: Potential Conflict of Interest

Alias Leave a comment

Tokavsk does accept foreign emissaries in its court, and indeed almost every day of the year one can find an ambassador roaming within the castle’s walls.  There is little to distinguish Tokavsk from other nations in how it receives representatives from abroad.  Visiting parties are given appropriate accommodations regardless of foreign relations, though it is rumored the nicest rooms are often saved for the King’s enemies.  An interpreter either brought by the emissary or supplied by the Court facilitates communication.  Foreigners are introduced to Tokavskan customs and treated with cold respect.  Tokavsk, at least under the current King, is not inclined to war.

This is why whispers of the missing ambassador are so fascinating.  There is no evidence to suggest King Stergye Tallat would resort to subterfuge, nor is there documentation implying such corruption among his courtiers.  At the time of this anthology’s compilation, there is no definitive proof of the ambassador’s disappearance beyond the two documents included previously.  We have little reason to believe this matter needs to be analyzed further, as it does not concern the subject of this anthology.  Rather, these documents have been included to be juxtaposed with Tokavskan legends to provide a detailed report on Tokavskan history and culture.

However, if more evidence is to come upon our desks, we are wont to include it in this anthology.  Such a scandal would provide a picture of the culture in the modern Tokavskan court.  While we surmise more information will be made known to us as we compile this report, we are uncertain how it will impact our project at this time.

The Kingdom of Tokavsk, Session 9: A Note from the Editors

Alias Leave a comment

Royal sobriquets are a particular difficulty to translate from Zheren, the language of Tokavsk.  This is because affixes are used in place of adjectives.  Some Zheren affixes have the same function as do adjectives in that they describe a noun; however, they become part of the noun itself when used.  For instance, the nickname of the current King of Tokavsk is commonly translated as “iron-blooded.”  This is an approximation.  In Zheren, it is written as Astergyevektarany—literally, “King/Leader named Stergye whose blood has the quality of iron.”  Here, the affix “a” denotes a leadership position, in this case the King.  “Vek” means blood; it acts as an affix, though the addition of “tarany” complicates its function.  Because “taran,” iron, has its own affix of “y,” the word functions as an adjective.  (“Y” at the end of nouns means “having the quality of,” which converts them into adjectives.)  Furthermore, the placement of “vek” immediately before indicates that the blood is being described.

The reason for including such a lengthy explanation is to illustrate the intricacy of Tokavskan titles and sobriquets.  It is worth noting that such lengthy results are uncommon.  Affixes can multiply rapidly, hence the inclusion of adjectives in Zheren grammar.  Typically, only one or two affixes are needed to get the point across.  Royal sobriquets are an exception.  It seems to be that because kings are held in such high regard, their sobriquets tend to be long.

However, even Tokavskan sobriquets have exceptions—exceptions to exceptions, if you will.  In the letter previous, “Short May He Reign” was written out in full.  The author made a pun on a phrase imported from regions to the south.  As it was recently brought into the Zheren lexicon, it is not subjected to the affix system.

The Kingdom of Tokavsk, Session 8: The Confession of a Traitor to the Court

Alias Leave a comment

Tokavsk has a tradition of forcing those convicted of high treason to confess their crimes.  The reasons for this tradition are unclear, and some argue it is unwise to disseminate the internal logic of the condemned.  The below confession is different in that, in addition to being the only letter we have retrieved from the current King’s reign, it is hardly a confession at all.  Rather, it reads more as a rant.  It also makes attempts to level accusations against the King, though it provides no specific examples, perhaps due to the intense fury of the author.

Iron-blooded is an apt sobriquet for him, more than apt.  They might as well have told me he was a fiend outright and shown me the antlers upon his head.  I’m laughing at the irony of it.  I was warned never to cross him, but I never thought his reaction would be as extreme as this.  To be a courtier is to serve the King, but it is also to fight for your House and your province.  That is what the system has always been, what I have been told.

I did what was within my limits.  I never meant to tear the hide, but by the time I realized I had it was too late.  You want me to explain why I did what I did.  You want me to glorify the King, but I will not, will not, will not with my dying breath.  Let me fall into the Iyentsh River and never feel anything again but cold.  You have already condemned me to the eternal chill.  Nothing I write will reverse my fate.  See, I laugh—I laugh as I’m writing this, laugh to keep from screaming.  ‘Tis a cruel joke bestowed upon me.  The end was obvious from the beginning.  There is no freedom, not for anyone who does not agree expressly with the King, His Royal Majesty Stergye Tallat the Iron-Blooded, Short May He Reign.  Anyone who shows his dissent will end up as I have.  Let them know my name—let they who inhabit this cell after me feel it in the cold stone walls, taste it in the gruel meant to keep them alive until their execution.  Let them remember my essence, even if everywhere else the memory of my existence is stricken.  I know what happened to the ambassador.  I know what the King does to keep you close to his torch.  Those secrets will not die with me—someone else will find them—I promise you that.  Promise you with the same fervor with which you love your king.

Signed,

[Name stricken]

The Kingdom of Tokavsk, Session 7: Stars and Tokavskan Culture

Alias Leave a comment

The great importance placed on the stars by the early Tokavskans carries into modern customs. Holidays dedicated to the emergence of certain constellations thought to be vestiges of ancient Tokavskan religion or influences from neighboring cultures are celebrated. Most modern-day Tokavskans are more dedicated to performing the customs than understanding the reasons for their existence. However, the dedication to practicing the elaborate star ceremonies, known in the Zheren tongue as Brzadrat, remains fervent.

In addition to celestial holidays, stars have a pull on everyday life. Brzad and variations thereof are found in both given and family names; astronomy is considered a vital academic skill; and two days of their seven-day weeks are named after constellations.

However, the most prominent example of the everyday influence of stars on Tokavsk is in is calendar. The Tokavskan calendar is divided into 360 days and nine months of forty days each. Because Tokavsk is a land of eternal winter, the positions of the stars are used to mark the passage of time; the dominant constellation, which is in Tokavskan culture the constellation that rises in the west.

1. Arku (Hawk)
2. Torotahen (Lost Soldier)
3. Letoka (Fir/Pine)
4. Rairden (Rabbit)
5. Adoto (Archer)
6. Krenya (King)
7. Krenyaka (Queen)
8. Dzegor (A primitive tool similar to a compass)
9. Kadan (Bear)

The Hawk, Fir, and Bear are the three most notable constellations, and it is no surprise that these are the most venerated months. However, it should be noted that the beliefs that the positions of stars affect one’s mood and disposition are largely obsolete. Rather, these months are valued for what they stand for. The Hawk is considered the physical manifestation of God in Tokavskan culture; the Fir is a symbol to Tokavskan strength and resilience; the Bear is a being of kindness and friendship. Thus, these months are in principle periods of showing respect to these beings.

It should be noted that younger Tokavskans tend to be less deferent to the established customs. There are complaints from the gentry that their generation is the last that will revere their ancestors, that Tokavskan culture is in danger of dying out. Whether this claim has any veracity is not to be investigated in the scope of this report.

Sagas Among the Arcana: Brother

suparnah Leave a comment

The Six of Cups, the Nine of Pentacles, and The Hermit are drawn . . .

 

The past

I remember being six, and there was no Netflix — simply my brother and I sitting and cuddling next to each other on the couch. We stole pillows from each other and gasped with each other when the main character found out some secret. The same hour would come the next week, with a new episode for us to share with each other. 

 

The Present

Now my brother and I go to the same college, but of his location, I rarely have any knowledge. Sometimes I’ll text him about a shared show — the only shared show because interests hardly ever stay the same — “Have you seen the new season?” My text is correctly capitalized and punctuated—it’s thoroughly distant. But he’s only a block away from me, rooming with his friends. He’ll respond hours later because he’s always so busy. “No, but I’ll watch it tonight,” he says — because he can. He doesn’t need to watch it at the same hour as me anymore. Eventually, I cease my messages, afraid to see his disinterest.  

 

Six of Cups, Nine of Pentacles, and the Hermit from White Numen: A Sacred Animal Tarot

The Future

He has plans to move countries. My plans are to stay. And I wonder how much I’ll ever see him after. Will he call me? Will I be a bother if I call him? How odd would it be if I followed him? It’s all so silly. He’s still just a block away, not yet gone away. I could always just invite him over. Then, we can find a new favorite show together, and I’ll no longer have to miss my brother.

 

The Kingdom of Tokavsk, Session 6: From an Unsent Letter of a Southern Ambassador to his King

Alias Leave a comment

The air here is made of cold.  It breathes with the land and seeps into your bones, and when you take off your furs after being outside the beads of your fingers are yellow-white.  You have to learn to move with the cold lest it takes you, the locals say as they shudder behind layers thinner than my own.  As I write this, warmth and color have returned to my fingers, but they do not have full feeling yet.  I pray that is soon restored.  I know not how they survive in this eternal winter, the people of Tokavsk.  I know not how I will.

Their language and customs flow with the cold.  They have a saying here that he who nurtures winter’s chill will come to find spring in the snow.  This aphorism, I believe, combined with their strange affinity for those lumbering beasts, are what keep them same amidst the bitter winds that strip the tree of their color and the sky of its light.  A gruff courtier poorly learned in Artrudian [the writer’s presumed native tongue] explained this to me in broken lurches of language, but I gathered what I could in knowledge and pieced together what became my interpretation of the sentence above.  I began to observe in the nightly feasts the king held in a dark wooden room to celebrate the first week of my tenure an atmosphere of tenuous warmth clinging to the roast meats on the odd round plates and the braziers on the walls.  Wavering and yellow, it trickled across the dishes with names I know not made from roots and spices that sit pale on the tongue.  There was a hearth cut into the wall on each end of the room lined with stone, as even they know wood loves to burn.  Wood and scraps of food and bone served as fuel for the flames.  This peculiar ritual I learned was called ilskat, the burning of life.

I have already written you about the nature of these feasts, so I will spare you the details a second time.  Rather, I will focus on a particular custom that I should like to emulate.  The men here cover their faces in animal fat, which they say staves off the worst of the cold.  It is an old hunters’ tradition.  I am not sure if this method has credence, but the tenderness of my nose, ears, and cheeks each time I venture beyond the walls is sufficient to compel me to try.  I aim to ask a fellow named Vasel tomorrow through my interpreter.  Vasel is quick to ensure my needs are met.