Dragonworld: The Drive For Power

Part 2: Birthright

Challenge of leadership

The rain fell in relentless sheets, drumming against the earth as if the heavens themselves were weeping. The sky was a curtain of dark, impenetrable clouds, casting a deep shadow over the land.

The men stood close together, forming a semi-circle around the open casket, their faces grim as they bowed their heads against the storm. Despite the conditions, they had gathered to pay their last respects to the former head of the clan.

A single man stood at the head of the casket. Kune Tanamuse, Pafe's uncle, the brother of the deceased. He was now the ultimate arbiter in the clan.

His eyes had a piercing glow, as if a fire were burning inside them. It is said this was a feature passed down from his distant ancestor, who had been a dragon.

Pafe stood to the side, among the group consisting of the top figures of the clan. His look betrayed his newfound confidence.

No more bad eye. He had gotten rid of the offending organ. A long cloth was wrapped sideways around the side of his head, covering the area where his right eye used to be. He felt he finally belonged. 

The uncle, Kune Tanamuse, gave a long eulogy, praising the dead man's wisdom and prowess in battle. He stood solemnly before the assembled, his voice deep and laden with grief.

"Our great lord," he began, "was a man of wisdom beyond his years, a commander in times of war, and a steward in times of peace. In the hearts of his enemies, his name struck fear, his reputation reverberating throughout the lands."

The name resonated among the crowd. 

"Okam Tanamuse, the lord of the Dragon clan," said Kune. 

He paused there, taking a deep breath, before continuing. 

"His leadership was not merely in the strength of his arm, though many a foe felt the bite of his sword, but in his wisdom and foresight," the older man said, his gaze focused on the casket. "He fought to restore the Dragon clan to its former glory, to lift us up to where we belong. In him, was the true spirit of knighthood, the embodiment of honor, valor, and fierceness."

Kune looked out over the faces of the mourners, as though drawing strength from their collective grief. "Through trials bitter and fierce, he guided us, ever mindful of the burdens placed upon him by our forebearers. In him was the flame of our ancestors, and it is by that light that we have found our way again."

He lifted his eyes to the sky, the rain still falling. "We shall not see his like again. But we, who are left behind, shall carry his legacy forward, as guardians of his memory."

The words were powerful, but ones that the men standing around the casket had heard before at countless similar occasions. It was a standard formula repeated at all the funerals of the clan's top brass. 

Pafe's father had once summarized it: "Replace the person's name, add a few personal anecdotes, compare to the legendary figures of the past. Rinse and repeat."

Kune took those words to heart. Having given a myriad of these throughout the decades, the old chief's brother was a master of making the mundane sound extraordinary. 

After this winded recounting of the dead leader's strengths, the uncle turned onto other matters.

"We are now faced with a pressing issue, one which the clan faces whenever its leader dies. We have to pick a new leader, one that will make us soar to newer heights. It's a procedure, with its own rules, but also obligations," said Kune. 

Taking a deep breath, Pafe's uncle explained what was to happen next.

"As mandated by tradition, the most senior member will lead the clan for an interim period. This role falls to me. For one year, I will be your lord and leader," he paused, giving everyone time to reflect. "In the meanwhile, the council of elders will deliberate on the successor. The one who is most worthy will be chosen."