-Conrad-

"For now... I believe you have been wanting to learn about the Bloodclaws?"

Conrad drew in a slow breath through his nose in surprise. Whatever had been preventing the old warrior from talking to him had apparently either been dealt with or cleared. However it had happened, he was finally going to get some answers. He straightened in his seat and looked Ruufarrl in the eyes before nodding, making sure he knew that this was going to be taken seriously.

"Yes, sir."

Ruufarrl looked at him studiously a moment before he nodded back in approval and continued, "Good. It is important to know the full impact of something one has earned and accomplished. Many youngbloods forget this on their rush to seek the pinnacles of their achievements. In so doing they often overreach and come to fail not only themselves, but the Clan as well. To prevent this, youngbloods who earn the Mantle are mentored by senior Bloodclaws. Your desire to learn more has put you ahead in that respect, but do not let it shade your thoughts. The Bloodclaws are..."

He paused a moment to try and find the correct word, one that would do his intent justice. "... A legacy."

"The creation of the Bloodclaws comes from an ancient practice meant to distinguish those who have, through their own free will, fought and bled for the Clan. In this manner they would be recognized not only as Warriors, but as Citizens in their own right. This Citizenship status, earned through their own blood and sacrifice, would grant them the right to lead others, take and hold Office, seek asylum and support, make decisions for the Clan and, at times, form their own Clan once their parent Clan had grown too large to support itself. The particulars have changed some over time, especially when we made our presence known in the Galactic Community, but the true bones of the matter are still there.'

'The Mantle is a visible symbol of this legacy. Calling it something akin to a military honor would be close, but the meaning behind it is different. The Mantle exists as a record and display of one's achievements and commiserate rank in Clan society. The more recorded achievements one has accomplished in support of the Clan, the higher one's social status. Any Ruulothi, or at this point any GalCom member, seeing the Mantle on an individual would know, immediately, that they had put themselves in harms way for the Ruulothi people and had earned our gratitude. It is a symbol of both respect and trust in our society. As such, it is not given out lightly to outsiders, and few have earned it as the requirements for them are more than simply skill in combat. I believe, currently, there are only 23 non-Ruulothi that are permitted to wear the Mantle, and all but four of them are from other predatory peoples. Many of them serve as Ambassadors of a sort to the Ruulothi, and are the only ones we will entertain as such. These chosen Ambassadors are Hunt Brothers as well as Bloodclaws. Any Ambassador must be at least considered a Hunt Brother to serve amongst our people."

Conrad sat quietly and absorbed the information for a moment. Outwardly he tried to appear calm, but on the inside he was near to boiling over as a surge of dread, pride and an endless stream of what ifs assaulted his mind. He swallowed as he tried to gain control of his rampant emotions. "Damn, this was far bigger than I had thought. You just HAD to go and kick the Hellboar, didn't you?" He despised politics and politicians with a burning passion and wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. But he also knew it would be a mortal insult to even begin to try and back away from this. Not only that, but doing so would utterly END any interactions with the Ruulothi race, not only for him, but likely all of humanity as well. He hated the weight he could feel settling in on his shoulders, but he knew that he had suddenly become a potentially very important link between Humanity and the Ruulothi. He hated himself for even the thought of backing away from it and knew that he was in deep, no matter which way he looked at it. But, in the end, the only answer to it all was to see it through. And to do that, he would need more information, as much as he could possibly learn.

"You said, 'More than simply skill in combat' was required to earn it. So how did I do it? All I did was fight."

"That fight was the final, major catalyst for awarding the Mantle, true. But it was also your interactions with Kiiroth beforehand as well as your stated need to avenge him, and by extension protect ME and your fellow crew, that you met the requirements for consideration. If the attack had never happened, I would have put you forward for the list of consideration for Hunt Brother. Because of your interactions beforehand and your friendship with Kiiroth. After the attack... few would dare to argue your qualifications, and then only fools."

"And Hunt Brothers are what... trusted outsiders? Why would you only allow Hunt Brothers and Bloodclaws as ambassadors? That seems like it would severely limit your external opportunities with other people."

"Yes, Hunt Brothers are non-Clan members that have proven to be worthy of the Clan's trust. This could be either outsiders or members of other Clans. As for the rest, it is true, after a fashion. However, in our estimations, how could we truly accept that such a person was willing to deal with us fairly and seek beneficial outcomes for all involved unless they have proven their dedication and worth to us? We have our own Ambassadors to cover the perceived void in our needs... Hmmm."

The Ruulothi paused a moment and scratched his chin while he thought. "Though to be fair, now that I consider it, our own ambassadors only treat with those races we consider worthy, so perhaps your observation isn't entirely off the mark. The GalCom does appoint middlemen for anything that we may need or ask for outside of our own efforts. But perhaps that lack of control is hurting us after all. Something for later consideration, perhaps."

Conrad watched him as he considered this train of thought for a few moments more before appearing to abandon it with a flick of both ears and claw, "But such concerns are far above my current station. Indeed, they are far above any station I could ever hold at this point."

"Is that because you are a... what was it called? A Sheathed Claw? Is it too forward of me to ask what that is now?"

Ruufarrl's ears twitched at the question, but he answered all the same. "To some, it would be. There are those among my people who see the title as one of shame, and of banishment. To other species... I think the closest approximation I can offer is that of retirement. It means that we have removed ourselves from internal Clan matters, either willingly or by having been forced, and will never hold a leadership position again. For some, this is indeed a punishment for misdeeds committed in office or while leading. Crimes and misdeeds that don't warrant making them Broken Fangs, our outcast criminals. For others it is because they became too old to perform their duties properly in a physical sense. In my case, it is because I lost my station as Clan Head in ritual combat, a Challenge of Position, and was ordered by the victor to continue serving in this capacity. For those like myself, it is a job. One that takes us far from home and family, and one that can wear heavily on the mind. Our job is to serve as the eyes and ears of our Clans in the larger Galactic Community. So that we can get word back home of events that may be... exempted from the GalNet or from the tongues of our... compatriots. The belief is that with our age and experience we would be wizened enough to not get caught up in a blood feud created by an offhand insult to our pride, as those younger than us might. In this way we spend the most productive part of our lives directly serving and protecting the Clan, and our Elder years discerning and providing the necessary information to allow our Clan to prosper. But some do not see it this way and see it as a banishment. Such Ruulothi will actively seek death on a battlefield somewhere so that they may enter the Great Hunt with their Ancestors."

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"That makes a certain amount of sense. You keep the youth, drive and strength at home where they can fight if need be and send the calmer and more rational thinkers out to delve and....spy? What happens to those who deteriorate mentally?"

"Espionage? No, not in that sense. Simply to observe and report. We don't seek secrets or to disrupt. Only to watch and learn. You are correct to think of it as a way to prevent waste of manpower. Rather than losing a valuable able-bodied fighter to a foolish fight in a random corner of the galaxy, we send out those who have already served their time. Though sometimes, such as with Kiiroth, promising youngbloods are sent out to be mentored and trained by their Seniors. Had he survived I believe he would have been a promising leader. As for the second part... Ruulothi do not suffer from age induced mental issues as some other races are known to do. That only occurs from damage directly to the brain, and such people are cared for at home. Our bodies may age, but our minds stay strong, until the few days before natural death at least."

Conrad felt a pang of anguish on hearing what the future may have held for Kiiroth. A future that he would now never get to see.

Something in his body language or expression must have shown his thoughts to Ruufarrl, as he let out a soft growl before speaking again. "There is nothing to grieve youngblood. Kiiroth died as a prime example of what all Ruulothi should be. You should take pride in that, and pride in yourself. For you accomplished what he could not. Such is the way the Huntwinds blow."

Conrad nodded to Ruufarrl, signaling his understanding of the intent behind his words. He did not ask about the Huntwinds, as he suspected that he already knew the answer. Every time he spoke with the Ruulothi, he noticed more and more similarities between their people. "If only our first contact had gone differently. I don't like it, but it looks like it is up to me to fix that."

"So where does all this leave me? Especially where my people aren't considered to be worthy by yours. It feels like we may have skipped a few steps along the way here."

Ruufarrl gave a rumbling purr at this, though Conrad didn't know what it meant, as he had never heard that particular sound before. "That is a fair assessment. However, this is not the first time such a thing has happened, nor is it likely to be the last. Our culture is one focused upon recognition of merit. Such things are known to happen where it is least expected. As things lay now, you are afforded the rights to wear the Mantle as recognition of your deeds. I have received approval from my Clan Head for you to do so. In time, there will be a Confirmation Ceremony where your actions that earned your Mantle, and the actions you took beforehand and henceforth, are reviewed and presented before the Night Mane Council. There, if you are found to have met the requirements beyond any rational doubt, you will be "Blooded" and your Mantle will receive the mark designating such and the mark of the Clan which approved it. Once this is done, you will legally be considered a part of the Clan and will be expected to act with their interests in mind in addition to your own."

He gave a strangled roar of laughter at the panic that welled up in Conrad's face. "Do not look as though you are to be eaten youngblood. You will not be co-opted into our culture, unless of course that is what you desire. Such things can be arranged. It merely means that you are expected to not perform any actions that will actively cause harm or detriment to the Clan or Ruulothi people as a whole. Much like the approved Ambassadors we spoke of earlier. Though intent can be argued in front of the Council if such a thing were to happen beyond your control."

Conrad felt the pressure that had been building start to ease as Ruufarrl intuited his concerns and addressed them as he spoke. He was again struck by the wisdom of the Ruulothi in front of him. He somehow always seemed to understand what was happening behind the curtains. "He must have been one hell of a leader. I wonder if the one who deposed him knew that, or if they simply wanted to take advantage of his age."

As he mused he noticed something in the way things were being explained to him start to stand out. A small detail that nudged the edges of his awareness until he gave it his full attention.

"You have only talked about the Night Mane Clan and their Council. What about the Ruulothi as a whole?"

"Hrrmm. The Grand Council allows the individual Clans to handle their own interests. In a way, this insulates them and other Clans from any damage that may be caused by a misstep at this stage. Only the Clan that made the decision would be affected. Such things as this are, of course, brought to their attention as a matter of course and respect. So they will, at the very least, be aware of you. I would dare to say that the hidebound fools may even lose some fur at the news." Ruffarrl chuffed in amusement at the thought. "But they will respect our decision and monitor your activities and progress. Perhaps, one day, you may even garner enough attention to be brought to them in person. Maybe even stand as a representative of your race."

"This all means I will need to go to Ruulothi Prime, right? For this Confirmation Ceremony? Is there some sort of time frame for that, or does it happen whenever I show up?" He almost said "If" he should show up, but caught himself before actually uttering the words. If was no longer in question. It was going to happen.

"It takes some time and forewarning to set up, but usually the sooner the better. With you absolving yourself of your responsibilities to the ship, it is possible to have it done in a timely manner. But we can discuss that more as the time approaches. As your... I believe the human word is...sponsor? I would need to be there as well to speak for you and your actions as a witness. You will also need a mentor to prepare you for the ceremony and etiquette required. I will handle the necessary notifications and assignments and will teach you what I can in the time you have remaining here."

"Thank you. This is...far bigger than I could ever have considered. Especially when all I really wanted to do was kick that stupid bug's ass and not get eaten."

"Indeed, it only takes but the smallest of sparks to create an inferno. Your reservations are good. It shows that you think beyond the moment. But do not concern yourself for the far future. Prepare for it as best you can, but do not agonize over it. In that, time alone will tell, youngblood.'

'Now, I must get back to my regular duties, and you must get some rest before your next shift. We will speak more. I will set aside some time in the evening of each day so that I may continue to teach you what you need to know. I will call on you again tomorrow."

Conrad stood and nodded towards Ruufarrl before leaving. "Understood Chief. And again, thank you."

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

-Ruufarrl-

"This youngblood... is proving to be more promising than expected." Ruufarrl thought as he watched Conrad leave his office. "One way or another, this is going to prove to be a most beneficial endeavor. I wish I could be there for those arguments." His ears and whiskers twitched in amusement as he imagined the heated "discussions" that would eventually ensue. "I am not the only one who will shake things up. This youngblood asks the right questions. He thinks and sees beyond himself and his own desires. This, this will add some much needed weight to his introduction. But there is much yet to do."

He turned to his workstation and began to make notes for his upcoming lessons, dredging up from the depths of his memory as much information as he could that might give the youngblood an edge. He would be starting from behind due to his race's current reputation among the Clans, and so would need every advantage possible to make a better and lasting impression.

Ruufarrl had much to teach the youngblood, with no absolute guarantee on time allowed. But he was not going to shave any corners. The youngblood deserved better than slipshod instruction, and he simply would not allow the quality of his teaching to be compromised in any way. Much of it was common sense, to a Ruulothi at least. Time alone would tell if this too transcended the boundaries of space and time, or if it would be something completely alien to the boy. Regardless, he possessed an alert and flexible mind. Ruufarrl did not doubt his capacity for learning the quirks of Ruulothi etiquette.

The better part of an hour later he sat back and took a deep breath before smiling. He had almost forgotten the rigors of teaching and lesson planning. This was just as good for him as it was for his Clan and the youngblood.

He double checked his work and, once satisfied, brought up the internal messaging system. He had one final task to complete, one that set in stone what would come to pass.

He nodded to himself, and began preparing his message to the Captain.