Vindicate Oh Candidate [Raven]

Somewhere deep inside the man who was broken and torn resided the beating heart of self-assured confidence torn asunder: As certain as he was of his own worthlessness, he was equally as certain of his nobility. Sebolaren had a purpose in every action, an outcome for every motivated plan, and reason for every word. To have these few things questioned based upon a rash assumption—and the fact that he had been left Standing—infuriated that inner core. He could not claim full rage, that would have taken self-assurance that he did not yet possess: Perhaps, depending on this meeting, it was entirely possible he might reach a level of anger befitting the injustice of what had been said.

Most likely, however, he would remain cool—soft spoken—and energetic only when necessary. All of these possibilities, all of the focus on the inner-heart that beat bravely against the chill in his soul—all of it was because of one simple fact. Tonight, as evening caressed its way into the depths of summer blue, Sebolaren was heading up to the private weyr of Candidatemaster K’var. The question, was why. The answer—was Q’sis. Through some small sliver of ill-timed fate (and luck), the Tanweyrling had managed to spy Xiro’el riding double on Requias, and had apparently immediately deemed the relationship to be sexual. Of course that night Xiro’el had snuck into the Candidates Barracks and earned them the attention of K’var—and Sebol mucking duty for two sevendays. Day one of which had been that next day.

For his part, Q’sis never knew when to leave the draybeast for dead and stop beating it—he had confronted Xiro’el and let slip his intentions to confront the Candidatemaster about their supposed sexual behavior. Which was simply fantastic because their so-called sexual behavior was entirely non-existent. He enjoyed the company of women, but not since he’d been branded, and certainly not when seeking a place within the Weyr: The same could be said for Xiro’el, save that he would be risking his dragon which was not even worth contemplating. Luckily, K’var was a wise—and fair—man, and rather than simply punishing Sebolaren again, he had agreed to meet privately with the Candidate in order to discuss the matters at hand: Namely what in all the sharding crackdust was going on.

Sebol, well, he had two very good reasons for acting as he had, neither of which he wanted to tell anyone, but—if push came to shove—he would let slip everything to clear his name and receiving the vindication he deserved having done nothing wrong to earn the malicious attentions of the Tanweyrling. Sebolaren, for his part, had already decided it would be in his best interest to avoid Q’sis whenever possible, and that was what concerned him most as he climbed the back passages toward K’var’s chamber. How could he possibly ensure he would never meet the Queenrider in public? Sebolaren had no rank, and Q’sis was currently the highest ranked Queen-riding male on Pern: That had to count for something. More than simply something. If anything occurred between them it would be upon Sebol’s shoulders that the blame was placed, and he could not—would not—allow that.

The only way he could force his hand, have his say, and clear his name, was to meet with the Candidatemaster: So he had accepted, and so now here he stood. Freshly wrapped Candidates’ knot hung from a shoulder of well-kept if drab tunic, and as he knocked upon that private door the doubt within him washed away—allowing that inner flame to burn bright as the light of day itself within his body.