Quoted By:
You were chosen to be the Supreme Ruler. It was not unconditional; you were chosen among your rivals and equals to rule for your <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-s">strength</span></span>. You were chosen because the Hegemony has many enemies, and you must have the strength and power to destroy them. It was so all-consuming, so driving of your purpose when you were given this medallion, that you even chosen this color of robe to mean <span class="mu-i">Power</span>- power absolutely.
But the question was always the same; how? By what means is this power expressed? Wrix Val had great power- despite him being a middling knife duelist at best, and a blonde of unimposing stature. No- his power was more psychological, maniac. You've been trying to find your own method of expressing your power- the power that this medallion has given you. Temporal, political, sexual, physical, cultural, and mental- you have it all from your training, breeding, and place of absolute prestige in your society. And yet despite that, you never have found your exact source of strength.
You are no conqueror. You won't even conquer the inside of a set of thighs- much less the Consortium's border worlds. So where is your strength?
You think back to your training. Under the tutelage of <span class="mu-i">Clok Garastra</span>, you trained with many weapons and styles. He was a psycho-kinesthic master; the pairing of physicality, instinct, and social manipulation. You studied the Vetuck and their own warrior culture- distinct from the Jaxtian, and certainly less sharpened by centuries of genocide and industrialized cruelty- and find an interesting parallel to your situation now.
To the Vetuck; the warrior capable of swinging through a group of enemies and cutting them down with sheer strength was not considered a great warrior. Fearsome and dangerous, yes, and good to have on your side, but not <span class="mu-i">great</span>. After all, they would say, something as stupid and blunt as a boulder can do incredible damage- but only when it rolls downhill. To the Vetuck, a herd species of herbivores- running or even striking back against a foe is a losing battle- the weak and young become exposed and picked off. Instead, to the Vetuck, a truly great warrior, the most respected and feared, was the one who gave his enemies all the time in the world to attack. Who stood tall against them and then allowed them to be broken against him- like waves crashing against the cliff. You see it now. How better to project strength, true <span class="mu-i">power</span>, not aggression and pointless posturing, by being <span class="mu-i">unmovable</span>?
You have decided to name the tiny mining colony. It is now named <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-s">The Stand</span></span>.
