Fiction:Migration

Migration is a fiction story mostly written by DrodoEmpire. It is centered around a group of Drodoian Nomads and their struggle for independence, after their way of life is threatened by the Empire and its decisions. This is very much so a work in progress; Even the name is subject to change.

Chapter One
Jirhik sat in deep contemplation, his elbows on the finely-crafted wooden desk in front of him. The smells of burning incense filled his modestly-sized office, but he did not care to pause from his thoughts to take it in. There was far too much on his mind; His world's floundering economy, the growing air of suspicion amongst his courtiers, the Xonexi war...

His thoughts where interrupted by the turning of a doorknob and the creak of his wooden door, almost painfully loud in an amongst the still silence once present in his room. In came one of his trusted vassals, whom he recognized to be Oirid.

"Yes, Oirid?" Jirhik asked in the best "friendly" tone he could muster. The short man in front of him did not respond until he finished bowing;

"My lord." He responded solemnly, Jirhik motioned to him, the implication being to be at ease. Oirid caught the hint and continued;

"My lord, your request for special tribal government, emulating Aq'Hual's, has been yet again denied. I'm afraid that we will have a standard governor after your passing." He said it quickly, almost fearful of the Khan's response. He was surprised to see he simply sighed, and nodded.

"Very well. Any news from the other Khans?" Jirhik asked, referring to the other planets which shared proud, nomadic roots. Oirid was caught off-guard with this question; He was frustrated that he has been as of late been kept in the dark about so many of Jirhik's plans. However he knew better than to evade one of the Khan's questions, and instead answered to the best of his knowledge;

"They too are concerned about the Xonexi war and governing rights, sir; Many other Khans have a fragile treasury and murky line of succession like us, and are, frankly, terrified of the prospect that they may have to raise levies for the war effort, potentially sending their economy into its death throes, and that they'd relinquish control and their heritage to a non-Nomad government."

Jirhik nodded;

"Interesting."

For a while, there was a pause. Jirhik seemed to have relapsed into his deep, stressful thoughts. Oirid, meanwhile was himself contemplating his next move.

So many questions... He thought. Finally, he gathered enough courage to ask;

"My Khan," He started. He had managed to stir Jirhik out of his trance.

"Hm?" The Khan grunted.

"Permission to speak freely?" Oirid asked. The Khan nodded. Oirid felt a brief moment of relief as he allowed him to speak, but only a brief moment as the boldness of his question became evident. He cleared his throat;

"I, and the other vassals and courtiers have been... Well..." He chose his words carefully. The Khan's face scrunched into one of slight frustration;

"Well? Out with it!" He demanded in a measured, firm tone. It sent chills down Oirid's spine but somehow forced the words out of his throat;

"...We've been questioning your decisions; Raw meat and wool make up much of our exports and income and right now the herders aren't providing. Yet in the past three years we have purchased one hundred large transport ships; Enough to fit our entire population aboard. We struggle to provide electricity to our people, let alone purchase a fleet of starships; Why?" Oirid cringed as he waited for some sort of angry retaliation; Jirhik was known to be short-tempered, but today he seemed oddly serene, or at least restrained. He sighed.

"Well, if this where any other day I'd have you imprisoned to keep my plot under wraps. But it seems as though Heaven has granted you luck today."

"I... I don't think I understand, sir." Oirid responded awkwardly. The Khan stood up from his chair, and walked towards an old composite bow hung on the wall, admiring it.

"Oirid, there's an old adage; 'If the law is against you, argue the facts. If the facts are against you, argue the law, if both are against you, yell like hell.' Do you see how this can be applied to our current situation?" He did not move to face Oirid.

"Not... Not really, my Khan." Oirid was starting to become frustrated with Jirhik's cryptic responses; What is he implying? Finally, The Khan turned about to face Oirid and started to step towards him;

"Well think about it; The law is certainly against us, fact is, our economy is ready to crash, so what, insane, crazy, absolutely absurd option are we left with?" The young Jhik's eyes widened;

"You wouldn't dare rebel!" Oirid accused. Jirhik laughed;

"No! No! Nothing quite that insane, no!" He reassured. At this point they where face to face.

"Oirid, my good man, those transports are there for a reason. And if you check public records you will see our allies have purchased similar craft. We will let the Imperials have our homeland, but that is fine; We are nomads, after all!" The Khan waited in response, but Oirid simply stood in a stunned silence. He continued;

"I have been plotting this with our good allies for years now, I anticipated this exact disaster; We've found and area in the Quadrants where we can resettle, where we can make a new beginning like our ancestors centuries ago." He paused for effect.

"We can build a new Khanate, Oirid. Think about it." Jirhik smiled. Oirid felt as though he was left with more questions than had been answered, his mind was racing; Soon the planet he knew, he grew up on; The only world he had ever set foot upon, would be gone like the dust. He took a long pause, and, finally, he said weakly;

"It... It sounds good." Jirhik patted him on the back;

"Good man! Now, I must inform the other Khans of this. I trust you to inform the other Jhiks and the Courtiers of this. We will be leaving in three months."

Three months... For some reason it rung in his mind as he left Khan Jirhik's office. Oirid had an uneasy feeling in his stomach; In three months-No time at all, really-his entire, up until now fairly steady life, would be changed forever and like a train on rails he could not do anything to change this fact. Even if he somehow convinced his lord to stop the plot, then what? It would only be a few years of Jirhik making concessions to his power until finally he had no choice but to abdicate, and then centuries, millenia, of culture and tradition would be cast aside in an unstoppable tide of Imperial modernity, and their way of life would disappear into the darkest corners of the steppes, never to be seen again. As insane as his Khan's plan was, he had no right to object, and he fully knew the risks of not enacting it. He resolved to execute his Khan's orders to the letter.