> The traditions of naming are diverse; where older traditions frequently align to an embracing of heritage, or privilege; and younger traditions more eclectic rationales unmoored from established cultural dynamics.
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> The suffix structure of the noble houses--for example -re, -ala, -oum, -erl, -idg to name but a few--are present to indicate familial lineage and status, allowing any person of noble blood to instantly know their relative standing on introduction. (There are wild stories of nobles engaging in deadly combat at the mere exchange of names, such was their familial enmity!) It is shockingly poor manners to excise the familial suffix casually, a practice only tolerated among close friends or family members where it is a sign of affection and closeness.
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> A common lowborn pattern is the indication of one's trade, through inclusion of some essential tool or practice in a taken surname. These names are rarely preserved for more than a handful of generations as descendants diversify their livelihoods, though some clans maintain such for much longer periods.
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> A curious intersection of the two styles is present in the naming structure of the Lek ethnicity. Those people who weathered the Fall by maintaining close relations with the semi-feral ambler herds are recognized for the immense service their actions have since provided to the reestablishment of civilization. They in turn honour their sons and daughters who choose to continue that tradition of working with amblers by imparting names containing the 'Lek' phoneme at their maturation.
>
> To end on a whimsical note, we shall examine the fanciful practices of the highly superstitious, where it is commonplace to name their children after misfortunes in the hopes of warding off bad luck! I recall on one occasion inquiring after a young woman Sandy's name, only to be informed (with some hesitance!) that it was short for Sand-in-eye! Imagine my delight when upon being invited back to her home I met her namer: her father, with his eye-patch.
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> Excerpt ‘Sociological Discussions’ Chapter 3, ‘On Naming’, By Culumbrious Pensin.
Jack realized their arrival by the sudden silence of those around him. Everyone turned and faced the entrance of the grove as the awareness spread through the caravan. They took the Attendant Pose—feet together, hands clasped behind their backs, eyes locked to the figure of authority.
Jack was thankful for the effort he had made to refresh on etiquette, it would be easy to draw attention to himself here.
Three entered atop their shaped mounts—some variety of nimble. They were obviously of ancient stock, too well-formed to be an ambler line adapted for riding. Long, powerful legs that walked almost awkwardly at their current slow pace. These were created to run. They had short, pale brown fur that, after a moment of discomfiting familiarity, Jack recognized as the same shade of late summer grass outside the grove. Their heads were narrow, focused, streamlined. They lacked nostrils, and had only a small opening for a mouth. Jack's confusion about how they must fulfill their necessary respiration was answered as one flared open orifices in rows along their body, small black holes across the front of their chest and neck.
Their eyes were too smart. Barely glancing at the umbrar, a threat dismissed, roaming instead the gathered caravaneers. The surviving amblers had been nervous all morning, refusing to venture near the corpse.
They were either a breed managed through the efforts of teams of focused handlers, only capable of solitary travel for limited times before essential functions began to break down, maintained only with great effort with modern, inefficient cards; or were ancients themselves, surviving through the Fall and the hundreds of years since, outliving riders, even families in that time. Either option spoke of absurd wealth and power. No noble in Calamut had access to such creatures—they stood as proof that at least one of the three riders must be of the Great Families.
As for the riders, two rode with an abundance of ease—an older man and a younger, a bit older than Jack. They were carelessly graceful in their movement, shifting smoothly in time with the motion of their mounts. The third... Jack was surprised to find her stiff in the saddle. It wouldn't have been obvious without the example of the two male riders, she had an obvious physicality, a poise that aligned with her almost unearthly beauty. But compared to their natural demeanour, she was evidently inexperienced and making up for the difference with athletic ability.
Their gradual approach finally came to a halt by the umbrar body, and the younger man gestured “duty’s release” in the Noble's Hand.
At once everyone touched their right hand to their hearts and then returned to their respective labours, honour's obligation paid. The older man had also joined the responsive gesture, but the girl had not.
'Not three nobles. Two, and a bondsman,' Jack realized.
Jam was approaching the trio, signaling Malek and Lekub to follow.
"Lord, it is our honour to serve," Jam's inflection had changed to one Jack hadn't heard before. It was... polished. His tone was formal, utterly lacking the warm character he'd expressed to Jack when they met, even though that had been some part performance itself. This was clearly calculated for the nobility—something respectful but... not very Jam, as Jack had grown to know him.
“You greet Lord Calre and Lady Vasala. Titles withheld,” the bondsman pronounced.
"You're wondering why we arrived early," the young nobleman, Calre, spoke smoothly. Jack was surprised to find it wasn't haughty, but managed to still convey absolute authority.
"His lordship's itinerary needs no explanation," Jam answered.
"Nevertheless I'm inclined to give one," then a seeming non-sequitur, "It appears you've encountered some excitement." Calre glanced meaningfully at the umbrar.
"Lord," Jam replied somewhat helplessly. He couldn't answer in full without infringing on Calre's stated inclination to explain his timing.
"Did you suffer any casualties?" Calre gave him an out.
"No lord. It sent some asleep, but it was our good fortune that it was noticed in time. Ultimately, there were no serious injuries."
"Hmm, who landed the final blow?" Calre asked the question with only mild interest, but Jack tensed involuntarily at the question.
"I did lord," Jam answered immediately.
‘Thank you Jam,’ Jack thought.
The noble glanced again at the umbrar. The spear pierced through its mouth and out the skull, pinning it in a position of bodily contortion. There was clearly only one wound that could have slain it.
"An interesting angle of attack."
"I have quite the arm on me, lord."
"Quite," Calre said with finality, but was seemingly satisfied as he continued, "we hunted this beast for two days and nights. Remarkably slippery in the darkness. It is to my great embarrassment that our ineptitude put you and yours at risk. I'll have to think of an appropriate compensation for the risk you undertook; it is a matter of honour."
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That could not be refused.
Calre gave a short whistle and the nimbles crouched together to ease dismount.
"Lady Vasala and I will seize the opportunity to regard the scenery. My bondsman Grant will instruct your people on care for our mounts. As you had a trying night and have not yet broken fast, I believe breaking camp in a quarter-hour to be reasonable. It is ill done to burden you, but there are several incidents of interest to me to the north that demand haste. Please accept my apologies."
Not, Jack noted, that his regret changed his plans.
"As you say lord," Jam said with a bow.
Jack recognized the deep truth of those words. The nobles had appeared and with them an understanding that the flow of lesser lives must divert. The trials they had undertaken the night before, were secondary in the presence of such power.
'If not all of us had made it through the night, I wonder if we'd be given an extra hour to bury them,' the thought was flavoured bitterly and Jack was surprised at his own vehemence.
He set aside the thought for now, outrage wasn't useful when people needed to be fed and a camp pulled together in half the time it really demanded.
The flurry of activity began—food was ignored for now. Eating could happen on the road, although they'd have to crack into the convenient travel provisions rather than rely on their supply of spoil-prone goods. Grant demonstrated the basic care of the noble's nimbles to Lekub and Malek, who both looked uncomfortable with the strange beasts. When Malek glanced over to the corpse of the amblers that had fallen in the night, Jack realized that they were likely struggling with the loss of their amblers to the umbrar and were not being given any chance to show respect to the creatures that had died in their care.
A quick consultation with Jam revealed the truth of it.
"I hadn't forgotten their loss. Mindful of you to recollect it in their interest. If you want to do them a kindness, Lek handlers give their animals to the scavengers of the world. But the bodies can't stay in the grove, it's an ill-done thing to leave them in a traveler's shelter. Fetch Stroph and the two of you haul them out of here. That will be the greatest gesture you can make," Jam explained to Jack.
Stroph was duly commandeered for the task and the two of them secured the ambler bodies with rope.
"Can't tie 'em to the other amblers, would just disturb 'em. So it will be me and ya takin' 'em out," Stroph winked then and whispered "Remember, this be a heavy burden for us, make sure to show it."
And he began to stride forward, lashed ambler in tow.
Jack hurried to pull as well, only to find his contributing tension to be entirely unnecessary.
'Oh, right. Strength card. Showmanship it is,' he thought, and threw himself doubly into the work to watching eyes, but in truth only mimed his strenuous efforts.
They were approaching the final yards before they would break from the grove when a voice, raised in frustration, carried to them from beyond their view.
"You saw it as clearly as I did! That spear was nearly vertical Cal. Tell me, what throw comes from directly above hmm? If it was a falling spear, how could it have the force to crumple the Blackthrive? Pierce through its skull? Can you guess the height it would need to land with that force? The accuracy? Someone here has clearly broken the Censure, maybe more than one and that caravan leader lied through his teeth to you!"
‘Blackthrive must be the name of that umbrar variant,’ Jack realized.
Stroph and Jack had paused at the raised tone, but the subject of the words had them looking at each other with wide eyes. The noble Vasala had taken exception.
The reply was quieter, out of reach of their hearing.
"I am calm!" a shout, "I just... How can you take this disrespect? They impugn your honour and you aim to reward them?!"
The voices were coming closer, and momentarily the other noble—Calre—became audible.
"...will keep your tone measured. We are nearly returned. It does not behoove you to be so consumed by your emotions Vasala," Calre, speaking with a cold imperiousness.
"I… I-my apologies Lord Calre. I am overtired I think, the ride has been long, I did not mean to-" Vasala spoke, suddenly timid.
"Your apology is accepted," Calre's abrupt interruption then shifted to a conciliatory sigh that sounded like rueful smile, "I must remember that I have been carded four years to your zero. It was unfair of me to speak harshly. I will explain Val, but I would have you think on my words for a time before raising objections or questions."
"I-yes, my thanks Cal," she replied, the adoration-coloured relief evident in her voice.
"As for your concerns, it is flattering to hear such outrage on behalf of my dignity from you," his tone one of cultured amusement, "but trust that I have my own honour well in hand."
Something outside of hearing from her.
"And you will share in it my dear, but learning these intricacies takes time. I do not begrudge you your inexperience. For your peace of mind, yes it is likely that someone, or several persons, possess cards that exceed the censure. It is well that they do, for otherwise we would have come upon a clearing of corpses. Then where would my honour be? I contracted this caravan, there is an expectation of my martial contribution. Someone else stepped into that role when I was unable, it would be churlish of me to act cruelly when in fact my reputation was preserved by their action."
Jack and Stroph looked at each other. This was a conversation they were not meant to hear.
'They’re much more observant than I hoped, at least Calre seems disinclined to pursue things further,’ Jack thought, 'but being caught eavesdropping likely won't receive the same equanimity… and Stroph can’t afford their interest.'
He jerked his head in the direction of the grove and Stroph nodded, still a bit shell-shocked by some of the revelations they'd received.
They dropped the burden of the ambler and hurried back a few dozen paces.
Stroph gestured to Jack. "You start us off."
Jack gestured back to Stroph. "Me? You're the caravan man. Don't ask me to play two layers of deception."
Stroph gestured to Jack emphatically. "You. Definitely you."
Jack finally acquiesced, recognizing himself beaten in stubbornness.
"Do ya reckon we're about ready to head on then?" Jack spoke loudly, attempting to produce a strained tone as he walked slowly back toward the fallen ambler.
"Yup," Stroph replied.
A brief pause in their ‘discourse’.
"Sure is heavy," Jack ventured.
"...Yup."
'You're killing me here man,' Jack thought, exasperated.
And so he began to chatter idiotically while Stroph grunted general agreements. Upon reaching the ambler they picked up the dropped ropes and continued on smoothly. Their pantomime continued until they broke through the trees to the open plains, and Jack faked a startle at the appearance of the noble pair just to the side of the entrance.
"Your pardon, my Lord and Lady," Jack didn't have to work hard to produce the strangled voice that emerged.
The pair looked at them with an aloof condescension, but Jack thought he spotted a touch of amusement and exasperation in his and her gazes respectively.
“Be well,” spoke Calre, before he and Vasala continued past them into the grove.
They took the ambler the final stretch, finding themselves a reasonable distance from the grove and a clear patch of ground. The journey had tightened the knots binding the amblers, to the point that Jack would have consigned them to being cut if Stroph hadn’t been there to loosen them with startling ease.
‘I keep being surprised by his strength card, but damn.’
The next ambler was done without any noteworthy incident, much to their mutual relief.
In the meantime, the camp had been pulled together. They were ready to leave.