Warriors’ Pride
Chapter 5
Outdoor Pavilion
M’krah
Ghorah Khar
Kruq’nov did not enjoy the crowds, what self-respecting male would. The only plus he could note to his current circumstances is that a majority of the crowd under Ghorah Khar’s bright sun were of the female persuasion. This was a far more present crush of bodies than the filthy trenches of a now dead world. He seldom spent any of his time since landing on this new world thinking about the old. Just how many of the soldiers remaining on Repleetah remained alive? He read of no accounts of the planet in M’krah’s newspapers. This proves nothing, since the propagandists long since ceased their idolization of that particular battle.
M’krah sported a number of outdoor pavilions and parks, a great deal more greenery than his eyes were use to seeing. A great deal more than Kilrathi eyes were use to. The plants on the homeworld were said to be many shades of black. Green was not a color often seen. It was a color, however, that he could get use to. Most habitable worlds orbits stars far whiter than the red dwarf Kilrah lay beneath, and thus had plants of far lighter shades. To many Kilrathi, green might not be special. To Kruq’nov, it was the color of life across the universe. So sad that it took a male who has seen the face of death for more Kahrik than he cared to remember, to truly appreciate life.
Most of the Kilrathi packing the Pavilion were not there to revel in greenery, though a few did lay lazily in the shade of green trees. No, there were present to enjoy– if that is the word to use– the drama presented by one of the local acting Prides. It was a tale of the old dynastic wars upon Kilrah, many eighties of Shrik before his species ever reached for the stars. The tale was one of deceit and intrigue, of war and betrayal. In those times, several Prides vied for the top position, and wars were as common as stars in the skies of Kilrah’s darkside.
Many of the locals were enthralled with the tale, but Kruq’nov just could not get interested. As far as he was concerned, it was a tale about highborn fighting highborn, and that the Empire would have been better off if they had wiped each other out. If the Ape War was lead by those with merit and not birthright, then it would have been over before Kruq’nov was ever born. He only paid slight attention to the actors upon the stage. He came to this Pavilion to observe the crowds, not the plays.
A great many of the M’krah Pride were in attendance of the play. They stood in the front of the crowd, as theirs was the strongest of Prides and the city’s rulers. Had the Pavilion been flat, his view would not have been so great. As it were, he stood towards the back of the crowd, on the slopes of a gently rising hill. Or perhaps mound would be the better term. No matter what he called it, his view was superb.
Kruq’nov had no trouble spotting Keitcha, with her light gold hair. Several females around her also had lighter hair, though none approaching that of Keitcha. Sisters obviously, born from the same mother. He did not spot any aging krones with such hair, but that proved nothing. Matriarchs, the true rulers of Kilrathi society, had far more pressing matters to attend than a midday play. According to her robes, Keitcha was high within her Pride’s rankings, yet she was not hard at work. What did that say about her? Perhaps only that she knew how to enjoy life every now and again.
Kruq’nov was not the only watcher in the crowd. Nrsah kept his eyes more on the younger of the M’krah Pride females, and was less subtle than Kruq’nov. The older veteran could not fault his brother, for he would have done the same thing at the same age. Almost all males of Nrsah’s age had many Shrik to age before they could even think of taking a Pride. Had he aligned himself with a male of his own age, Nrsah would still have to wait. Of course, had he done so, he would likely be dead and forgotten in the trenches.
Kruq’nov, however, was not a young cub anymore. He was of the age of taking a Pride, which he had every intention of doing. A female as magnificent as Keitcha deserved to have a King as battle-hardened and tough as Kruq’nov. He would make her his queen, and if he was obliged to take all of her Pride was well, and mate with its females as they came into season– it was a small price to pay.
The drama’s ending was unremarkable to say the least. Some ancestor or another of the Emperor slew his foe and won the day. “What a shock,” he said to his brother with a voice dripping with sarcasm. He briefly wondered what truly happened back in the ancient days, what the Kilrah Pride did not wanting the ‘lesser beings’ they ruled over to know.
Kruq’nov took his time filing out of the Pavilion. After all, he did not want to miss the chance of meeting Keitcha face-to-face. A female such as herself deserved only the best, and in the eyes of Kruq’nov, only a veteran of Repleetah was worthy enough. After all, he seriously doubted the current Kings of her Pride were such survivors. He managed to learn little about them, only that they were not ground pounding warriors, and thus were not the pinnacle of the Kilrathi genome.
Near the pavilion’s gateway, he found his path intercepted her’s perfectly. The two stood side-by-side, a feeling so wonderful that Kruq’nov began to wonder if his brother were correct. The love virus was said to make males feel foolish, and his current feeling was just that. Planning to take a Pride was a simpler and safer action when only the business of mating was in the minds of males. Emotions– they just complicated the relationship.
Keitcha looked briefly at him, their eyes making contact. Her eyes were a lighter shade than most Kilrathi as well, with an almost bluish hue to them. Plenty of Apes had blue eyes, but few Kilrathi came close to that. Before she could look away, Kruq’nov spoke. “On all the worlds I have stepped foot upon, never have I seen such beauty as I see now.” His words peaked her attention, enough so that her eyes surveyed this new, strange male. “And I declare that I would fight my way across the Terran Confederation to lay eyes upon your loveliness again.”
Keitcha replied with a sparkle in her eye, a smile and slight purr before turning away to continue on her way. Kruq’nov expected nothing less, though was quite pleased he caught her attention. She would remember him. He could tell by that sparkle that she approved of what she saw. Approval was not enough, of course. To have her, he must have her Pride as well. Such was the Kilrathi way.
Interrupting his thoughts, Nrsah spoke in a hushed tone. “I must say, my brother, you make a far better warrior than a poet.” With those words, Kruq’nov backhanded him across the snout, without once taking his eyes off the retreating Keitcha. Yes, he would have her, but not right now. His time in the Army taught him well that any warrior who rushed forward with Knowing what lay ahead, usually found himself laying face down in short order. He would make his move, but only when he knew what he faced.
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“That is quite a palace,” Nrsah told his brother as he looked upon M’krah Manor. The jagged structure covered enough ground and rose high enough from the ground to give each of the Pride’s females their own chamber. Judging by the size of it, the M’krah Pride must have over an octave females among its ranks. He straightened himself to something resembling army attention upon thinking of how many of those Pride females were young and eager.
Unlike his brother, Nrsah did not fawn over a lone female. He could see the beauty that Kruq’nov spoke of– even if Keitcha nar M’krah was at least a Shrik older than himself. Of course, being twice Nrsah’s age, his elder brother would not mind the age difference at all. If anything, he would enjoy the difference far more. At least with the average female. He had no idea what was going through Kruq’nov’s mind concerning this single female.
“This is a Pride that will be going places,” Kruq’nov noted. As it were one of the two largest Prides upon Ghorah Khar, that was a reasonable assessment. Sooner or later, the M’krah or the other one, the name eluded Nrsah, would struggle for the new name of Ghorah Khar Pride. That alone should have made it out of the grasps of common soldiers, even those who warred in an uncommon battle. Uncommon was the greatest of understatements; the Battle for Repleetah lasted longer than any of Kilrah’s previous interstellar wars. Kruq’nov was there for close to half of that time.
Of course, out of the grasp was not a phrase his elder brother would recognize. “Hard to believe that only three Kings reign here.” He might think the status of Planetary Pride beyond his grasp, but he never doubted they could take the three males in combat.
“Soon it shall only be two,” Kruq’nov declared with the confidence of a priestess declaring Sivar’s pleasure or anger. His confidence was not misplaced. From what they have learned about the Kings since that day in the pavilion, they were hardly veterans. More like functionaries, distant scions of one of the Eight Prides; scions of scions. Whichever of the Eight spawned them probably does not even know they exist.
This tenuous tie to highborn blood might intimidate many males who might think of challenging, but not Kruq’nov. Nrsah knew his brother had strong hostility to those high above his station. To those who have ran this war into the ground, in other words. In the coming Kahrik, not only will they have a Pride full of fine females with a fine estate, but Kruq’nov will have the pleasure of killing a highborn.
“Too long have the highborn taken what they wanted without fighting for it,” Kruq’nov grumbled as they watched motion upon one of the verandas. Nrsah knew he was right. Common males had to fight tooth and claw to take and hold. Highborn males and scions often took what they wanted by weight of their parentage. Whoever were these Kings’ ancestors would not be able to save them.
Nrsah’s attention focused sharply when the roar of one of the Kings reached his ears. It sounded like an older male, one of the age of Kruq’nov, and it sounded angry. “There,” he said, pointing to a large figure approaching one of the slighter ones. He could not see that far away, but she appeared to be one of the younger females. Nrsah could appreciate those. Could, and he would.
Kruq’nov hunched and began to growl at the male. “Calm yourself, brother.” Only an instant after muttering the words, he would have to heed his own advice. For no apparent reason he could discern, the older King struck the female, knocking her off her feet. He stood before her, cursing her for reasons unknown. The female did not rise. In fact, she seemed to cower before the King. Nrsah hissed at that. Did that male not realize how fine his life was? He asked Kruq’nov this question rhetorically.
Kruq’nov did not see it as such. “He is a fool. Yes, that’s right, alienate the Pride females.” Kilrathi ruled through fear and intimidation. It was only natural, for what other means was there to establish a pecking order. Even Kruq’nov would strike his brother when Nrsah said something annoying– which never stopped him from voicing his opinion– but there was no malice in Kruq’nov actions. He even told Nrsah more than once that the younger male did more for him than any of his blood relations.
Now what the Pride King was doing, that was excessive. After he finished administrating his beating, he stood tall and let out a bellowing roar. The roar was soon followed by two more, each from the mouths of the other two Kings. “Think they know about us?” Kruq’nov asked him with a snarl in his tone. Nrsah could tell his brother was ready to pounce.
“A warrior-turned-poet is not a creature often encountered on the street,” Nrsah said with a hiss of amusement. “No doubt rumors have spread. After all, females will talk.”
Kruq’nov snarled a curse at his younger brother, but opted not to smack him upside the head. His attention returned to the King, strutting around the grounds as if he were lord of all creation. “If this is how he treats the Pride females, then none of them would object to our challenge.” Taking a Pride involved more than simply killing the Kings. If the Pride Females were not impressed, or at least accepting, by the challengers before the battle, then no battle would take place. Being highborn, the Kings no doubt assumed no Kilrathi would dare challenge them.
Kruq’nov aimed to prove them wrong, and Nrsah would follow where he lead. After all, it was a Pride that could only grow in strength.
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For one of the few times since landing on Ghorah Khar, Kruq’nov walked the streets without his brother. It was not the first time in his life he walked the path alone, but after so long with a brother to watch his back, he found being alone discomforting. There was strength and safety in numbers. As he marched down the streets of M’krah, half-robe revealing his scarred chest for all the world to see, he did not feel any viable threat would appear. Sometimes battles were won by convincing potential foes that they were not worth fighting.
Of the males on the street, Kruq’nov knew he could have killed any two at the same time with little effort. His fierce mane was enough to convince the scraggly youths and their tufts of beards to not bother him. If anything, they would rather join him. After all, he was a male who would be going places, and soon. He glared at the youths with vicious grimace upon his face. They stepped out of his path as he walked past. In the trenches, he was just another warrior, but here– here, he was a male both feared and respected.
As his brother slept off the previous night’s hunt, Kruq’nov decided on an early start to the day. He learned that the M’krah Pride favors completing business during the morning, before the sun rises too high. Most business concerned the culling and butchering of beasts upon their estate, or taking of prey in hunts. Females were far more effective hunters than any male the Kilrathi genome ever produced. Kruq’nov felt no shame in this, for his physique was built to fight, not to work.
He headed towards a new butcher’s shop. Not only did it pay better for spare parts than the previous one, but he also learned it was a favorite of the M’krah Pride. Once King, he would be visiting all their choice establishments, but that was still some time away. For the moment, he headed towards the shop in only slight hope of running into any of the Pride. He expected to, since the butcher said his own carcass would be delayed as they M’krah take priority over all others.
Luck was with him this morning. He entered the butcher’s shop at the same time as several females of the M’krah Pride, Keitcha among them. He parted way, bowing before them. He showed more respect to these females than any lord officer. To Keitcha he spoke. “My queen, truly the sun has risen upon my day. All events until night will be but afterthoughts.”
The other Pride females accompanying Keitcha purred in good humor. Keitcha joined them. “I have seen you around M’krah, but have yet to learn your name.”
“I am called Kruq’nov,” he told her.
“Rise Kruq’nov,” she said with a smile. “I am not so highborn that you must stare at the ground. You are new to our city, are you not?” The way she said ‘our city’ spoke volumes of her status. M’krah truly was their city, their property, and lesser Prides lived in at as vassals and at their sufferance.
“It is true,” Kruq’nov rose to his full height, which was a head above the females. There might not be much size variation within the genders, but a Kilrathi male was far larger and a bit taller than the females. He noticed the other females eyeing him, looking him over. “I, and my brother Nrsah, have recently left the field of battle.” He would not boast of his deeds in front of these females; the scars on his body tell of his valor. Besides, deeds are only for boosting while in the company of fellow veterans, and over good drink.
“And how goes the Terran War, Kruq’nov?” asked another of the females, one with the same pale golden hair as Keitcha. Born of the same litter perhaps? Certainly of the same mother.
He knew what many Imperial officials, as well as media and lord officers would tell her. Even recent recruits in the army, indoctrinated their whole youths, would say the same. Instead, Kruq’nov would speak the truth, for civilians certainly needed to here it. “Slower than it should.”
Most of the Pride females wished to hear more, but the one in the lead, older than the rest, with gray both on her muzzle as well as her robes. “Come, my sisters, we still tasks to attend to.” Her tone was not reproachful, the way some elder females would be when their youngers spoke to a male not their King. Her tone was that of a female who wished to finish the day’s choirs before the sun rose too high in the sky.
“You must excuse us, Kruq’nov,” Keitcha said. “As my sister says, our morning remains busy. No doubt we shall see you around our city again.”
Kruq’nov bowed again as the females departed. He could hear Keitcha’s voice as they receded. “If only our own Kings were so cultured,” she made little attempt to keep her voice low. Nor did her sisters keep their agreements quiet.
As he entered the butcher’s shop, he noticed from the corner of his vision that more than one female looked back over their shoulder at him. He hid a smile within his mane. Yes, when the challenge was made, the Pride females would certainly not refuse it. This Kahrik was shaping out to be the best since he left K’n’meth.
Chapter 5
Outdoor Pavilion
M’krah
Ghorah Khar
Kruq’nov did not enjoy the crowds, what self-respecting male would. The only plus he could note to his current circumstances is that a majority of the crowd under Ghorah Khar’s bright sun were of the female persuasion. This was a far more present crush of bodies than the filthy trenches of a now dead world. He seldom spent any of his time since landing on this new world thinking about the old. Just how many of the soldiers remaining on Repleetah remained alive? He read of no accounts of the planet in M’krah’s newspapers. This proves nothing, since the propagandists long since ceased their idolization of that particular battle.
M’krah sported a number of outdoor pavilions and parks, a great deal more greenery than his eyes were use to seeing. A great deal more than Kilrathi eyes were use to. The plants on the homeworld were said to be many shades of black. Green was not a color often seen. It was a color, however, that he could get use to. Most habitable worlds orbits stars far whiter than the red dwarf Kilrah lay beneath, and thus had plants of far lighter shades. To many Kilrathi, green might not be special. To Kruq’nov, it was the color of life across the universe. So sad that it took a male who has seen the face of death for more Kahrik than he cared to remember, to truly appreciate life.
Most of the Kilrathi packing the Pavilion were not there to revel in greenery, though a few did lay lazily in the shade of green trees. No, there were present to enjoy– if that is the word to use– the drama presented by one of the local acting Prides. It was a tale of the old dynastic wars upon Kilrah, many eighties of Shrik before his species ever reached for the stars. The tale was one of deceit and intrigue, of war and betrayal. In those times, several Prides vied for the top position, and wars were as common as stars in the skies of Kilrah’s darkside.
Many of the locals were enthralled with the tale, but Kruq’nov just could not get interested. As far as he was concerned, it was a tale about highborn fighting highborn, and that the Empire would have been better off if they had wiped each other out. If the Ape War was lead by those with merit and not birthright, then it would have been over before Kruq’nov was ever born. He only paid slight attention to the actors upon the stage. He came to this Pavilion to observe the crowds, not the plays.
A great many of the M’krah Pride were in attendance of the play. They stood in the front of the crowd, as theirs was the strongest of Prides and the city’s rulers. Had the Pavilion been flat, his view would not have been so great. As it were, he stood towards the back of the crowd, on the slopes of a gently rising hill. Or perhaps mound would be the better term. No matter what he called it, his view was superb.
Kruq’nov had no trouble spotting Keitcha, with her light gold hair. Several females around her also had lighter hair, though none approaching that of Keitcha. Sisters obviously, born from the same mother. He did not spot any aging krones with such hair, but that proved nothing. Matriarchs, the true rulers of Kilrathi society, had far more pressing matters to attend than a midday play. According to her robes, Keitcha was high within her Pride’s rankings, yet she was not hard at work. What did that say about her? Perhaps only that she knew how to enjoy life every now and again.
Kruq’nov was not the only watcher in the crowd. Nrsah kept his eyes more on the younger of the M’krah Pride females, and was less subtle than Kruq’nov. The older veteran could not fault his brother, for he would have done the same thing at the same age. Almost all males of Nrsah’s age had many Shrik to age before they could even think of taking a Pride. Had he aligned himself with a male of his own age, Nrsah would still have to wait. Of course, had he done so, he would likely be dead and forgotten in the trenches.
Kruq’nov, however, was not a young cub anymore. He was of the age of taking a Pride, which he had every intention of doing. A female as magnificent as Keitcha deserved to have a King as battle-hardened and tough as Kruq’nov. He would make her his queen, and if he was obliged to take all of her Pride was well, and mate with its females as they came into season– it was a small price to pay.
The drama’s ending was unremarkable to say the least. Some ancestor or another of the Emperor slew his foe and won the day. “What a shock,” he said to his brother with a voice dripping with sarcasm. He briefly wondered what truly happened back in the ancient days, what the Kilrah Pride did not wanting the ‘lesser beings’ they ruled over to know.
Kruq’nov took his time filing out of the Pavilion. After all, he did not want to miss the chance of meeting Keitcha face-to-face. A female such as herself deserved only the best, and in the eyes of Kruq’nov, only a veteran of Repleetah was worthy enough. After all, he seriously doubted the current Kings of her Pride were such survivors. He managed to learn little about them, only that they were not ground pounding warriors, and thus were not the pinnacle of the Kilrathi genome.
Near the pavilion’s gateway, he found his path intercepted her’s perfectly. The two stood side-by-side, a feeling so wonderful that Kruq’nov began to wonder if his brother were correct. The love virus was said to make males feel foolish, and his current feeling was just that. Planning to take a Pride was a simpler and safer action when only the business of mating was in the minds of males. Emotions– they just complicated the relationship.
Keitcha looked briefly at him, their eyes making contact. Her eyes were a lighter shade than most Kilrathi as well, with an almost bluish hue to them. Plenty of Apes had blue eyes, but few Kilrathi came close to that. Before she could look away, Kruq’nov spoke. “On all the worlds I have stepped foot upon, never have I seen such beauty as I see now.” His words peaked her attention, enough so that her eyes surveyed this new, strange male. “And I declare that I would fight my way across the Terran Confederation to lay eyes upon your loveliness again.”
Keitcha replied with a sparkle in her eye, a smile and slight purr before turning away to continue on her way. Kruq’nov expected nothing less, though was quite pleased he caught her attention. She would remember him. He could tell by that sparkle that she approved of what she saw. Approval was not enough, of course. To have her, he must have her Pride as well. Such was the Kilrathi way.
Interrupting his thoughts, Nrsah spoke in a hushed tone. “I must say, my brother, you make a far better warrior than a poet.” With those words, Kruq’nov backhanded him across the snout, without once taking his eyes off the retreating Keitcha. Yes, he would have her, but not right now. His time in the Army taught him well that any warrior who rushed forward with Knowing what lay ahead, usually found himself laying face down in short order. He would make his move, but only when he knew what he faced.
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“That is quite a palace,” Nrsah told his brother as he looked upon M’krah Manor. The jagged structure covered enough ground and rose high enough from the ground to give each of the Pride’s females their own chamber. Judging by the size of it, the M’krah Pride must have over an octave females among its ranks. He straightened himself to something resembling army attention upon thinking of how many of those Pride females were young and eager.
Unlike his brother, Nrsah did not fawn over a lone female. He could see the beauty that Kruq’nov spoke of– even if Keitcha nar M’krah was at least a Shrik older than himself. Of course, being twice Nrsah’s age, his elder brother would not mind the age difference at all. If anything, he would enjoy the difference far more. At least with the average female. He had no idea what was going through Kruq’nov’s mind concerning this single female.
“This is a Pride that will be going places,” Kruq’nov noted. As it were one of the two largest Prides upon Ghorah Khar, that was a reasonable assessment. Sooner or later, the M’krah or the other one, the name eluded Nrsah, would struggle for the new name of Ghorah Khar Pride. That alone should have made it out of the grasps of common soldiers, even those who warred in an uncommon battle. Uncommon was the greatest of understatements; the Battle for Repleetah lasted longer than any of Kilrah’s previous interstellar wars. Kruq’nov was there for close to half of that time.
Of course, out of the grasp was not a phrase his elder brother would recognize. “Hard to believe that only three Kings reign here.” He might think the status of Planetary Pride beyond his grasp, but he never doubted they could take the three males in combat.
“Soon it shall only be two,” Kruq’nov declared with the confidence of a priestess declaring Sivar’s pleasure or anger. His confidence was not misplaced. From what they have learned about the Kings since that day in the pavilion, they were hardly veterans. More like functionaries, distant scions of one of the Eight Prides; scions of scions. Whichever of the Eight spawned them probably does not even know they exist.
This tenuous tie to highborn blood might intimidate many males who might think of challenging, but not Kruq’nov. Nrsah knew his brother had strong hostility to those high above his station. To those who have ran this war into the ground, in other words. In the coming Kahrik, not only will they have a Pride full of fine females with a fine estate, but Kruq’nov will have the pleasure of killing a highborn.
“Too long have the highborn taken what they wanted without fighting for it,” Kruq’nov grumbled as they watched motion upon one of the verandas. Nrsah knew he was right. Common males had to fight tooth and claw to take and hold. Highborn males and scions often took what they wanted by weight of their parentage. Whoever were these Kings’ ancestors would not be able to save them.
Nrsah’s attention focused sharply when the roar of one of the Kings reached his ears. It sounded like an older male, one of the age of Kruq’nov, and it sounded angry. “There,” he said, pointing to a large figure approaching one of the slighter ones. He could not see that far away, but she appeared to be one of the younger females. Nrsah could appreciate those. Could, and he would.
Kruq’nov hunched and began to growl at the male. “Calm yourself, brother.” Only an instant after muttering the words, he would have to heed his own advice. For no apparent reason he could discern, the older King struck the female, knocking her off her feet. He stood before her, cursing her for reasons unknown. The female did not rise. In fact, she seemed to cower before the King. Nrsah hissed at that. Did that male not realize how fine his life was? He asked Kruq’nov this question rhetorically.
Kruq’nov did not see it as such. “He is a fool. Yes, that’s right, alienate the Pride females.” Kilrathi ruled through fear and intimidation. It was only natural, for what other means was there to establish a pecking order. Even Kruq’nov would strike his brother when Nrsah said something annoying– which never stopped him from voicing his opinion– but there was no malice in Kruq’nov actions. He even told Nrsah more than once that the younger male did more for him than any of his blood relations.
Now what the Pride King was doing, that was excessive. After he finished administrating his beating, he stood tall and let out a bellowing roar. The roar was soon followed by two more, each from the mouths of the other two Kings. “Think they know about us?” Kruq’nov asked him with a snarl in his tone. Nrsah could tell his brother was ready to pounce.
“A warrior-turned-poet is not a creature often encountered on the street,” Nrsah said with a hiss of amusement. “No doubt rumors have spread. After all, females will talk.”
Kruq’nov snarled a curse at his younger brother, but opted not to smack him upside the head. His attention returned to the King, strutting around the grounds as if he were lord of all creation. “If this is how he treats the Pride females, then none of them would object to our challenge.” Taking a Pride involved more than simply killing the Kings. If the Pride Females were not impressed, or at least accepting, by the challengers before the battle, then no battle would take place. Being highborn, the Kings no doubt assumed no Kilrathi would dare challenge them.
Kruq’nov aimed to prove them wrong, and Nrsah would follow where he lead. After all, it was a Pride that could only grow in strength.
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For one of the few times since landing on Ghorah Khar, Kruq’nov walked the streets without his brother. It was not the first time in his life he walked the path alone, but after so long with a brother to watch his back, he found being alone discomforting. There was strength and safety in numbers. As he marched down the streets of M’krah, half-robe revealing his scarred chest for all the world to see, he did not feel any viable threat would appear. Sometimes battles were won by convincing potential foes that they were not worth fighting.
Of the males on the street, Kruq’nov knew he could have killed any two at the same time with little effort. His fierce mane was enough to convince the scraggly youths and their tufts of beards to not bother him. If anything, they would rather join him. After all, he was a male who would be going places, and soon. He glared at the youths with vicious grimace upon his face. They stepped out of his path as he walked past. In the trenches, he was just another warrior, but here– here, he was a male both feared and respected.
As his brother slept off the previous night’s hunt, Kruq’nov decided on an early start to the day. He learned that the M’krah Pride favors completing business during the morning, before the sun rises too high. Most business concerned the culling and butchering of beasts upon their estate, or taking of prey in hunts. Females were far more effective hunters than any male the Kilrathi genome ever produced. Kruq’nov felt no shame in this, for his physique was built to fight, not to work.
He headed towards a new butcher’s shop. Not only did it pay better for spare parts than the previous one, but he also learned it was a favorite of the M’krah Pride. Once King, he would be visiting all their choice establishments, but that was still some time away. For the moment, he headed towards the shop in only slight hope of running into any of the Pride. He expected to, since the butcher said his own carcass would be delayed as they M’krah take priority over all others.
Luck was with him this morning. He entered the butcher’s shop at the same time as several females of the M’krah Pride, Keitcha among them. He parted way, bowing before them. He showed more respect to these females than any lord officer. To Keitcha he spoke. “My queen, truly the sun has risen upon my day. All events until night will be but afterthoughts.”
The other Pride females accompanying Keitcha purred in good humor. Keitcha joined them. “I have seen you around M’krah, but have yet to learn your name.”
“I am called Kruq’nov,” he told her.
“Rise Kruq’nov,” she said with a smile. “I am not so highborn that you must stare at the ground. You are new to our city, are you not?” The way she said ‘our city’ spoke volumes of her status. M’krah truly was their city, their property, and lesser Prides lived in at as vassals and at their sufferance.
“It is true,” Kruq’nov rose to his full height, which was a head above the females. There might not be much size variation within the genders, but a Kilrathi male was far larger and a bit taller than the females. He noticed the other females eyeing him, looking him over. “I, and my brother Nrsah, have recently left the field of battle.” He would not boast of his deeds in front of these females; the scars on his body tell of his valor. Besides, deeds are only for boosting while in the company of fellow veterans, and over good drink.
“And how goes the Terran War, Kruq’nov?” asked another of the females, one with the same pale golden hair as Keitcha. Born of the same litter perhaps? Certainly of the same mother.
He knew what many Imperial officials, as well as media and lord officers would tell her. Even recent recruits in the army, indoctrinated their whole youths, would say the same. Instead, Kruq’nov would speak the truth, for civilians certainly needed to here it. “Slower than it should.”
Most of the Pride females wished to hear more, but the one in the lead, older than the rest, with gray both on her muzzle as well as her robes. “Come, my sisters, we still tasks to attend to.” Her tone was not reproachful, the way some elder females would be when their youngers spoke to a male not their King. Her tone was that of a female who wished to finish the day’s choirs before the sun rose too high in the sky.
“You must excuse us, Kruq’nov,” Keitcha said. “As my sister says, our morning remains busy. No doubt we shall see you around our city again.”
Kruq’nov bowed again as the females departed. He could hear Keitcha’s voice as they receded. “If only our own Kings were so cultured,” she made little attempt to keep her voice low. Nor did her sisters keep their agreements quiet.
As he entered the butcher’s shop, he noticed from the corner of his vision that more than one female looked back over their shoulder at him. He hid a smile within his mane. Yes, when the challenge was made, the Pride females would certainly not refuse it. This Kahrik was shaping out to be the best since he left K’n’meth.