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Tales of the Wave Rider, Volume 1 Splintered Light Prologue, pt 1: Alistair Jacksoni

Although all of the Jacksoni children received the best education in some of the most prominent schools in all of Ilyse, Alistair never quite managed to get the knack for dealing with the self important young men that fully expected the world to be handed to them on a silver platter and every attempt he made in catering to their endless desires never earned him anything aside a begrudging acceptance as a tag along... but only if he had some coin to supply.

Alistair's father had once told him "A man is not measured by the coin in his pockets nor in the furnishings found in his home. At the end of a life well lived the only true measure of a man is how many miles he has behind him and the number of friends that surround him." It was a difficult time in the young Tiger's life; he had not been accepted at the boarding school where he had been sent and his attempts to gain the favor of his peers through overuse of his family's credit had been more an exercise in futility than in gracious acceptance... and his father's abject disdain for the action had created something of a fissure in their relationship.

It had not been easy growing up among the petty nobility and offspring of merchant princes, especially in a nation like Ilyse where non-Avians were more often than not treated like secondary citizens. It wasn't any overt discrimination but it appeared often enough that it was evident. Despite trying to fit in, Alistair had failed on a number of levels and his father had been called home at the end of his first month of boarding school. He was chastised, and punished in numerous ways as was befitting the son of a first generation business owner, and then sat down to have one of his father's famous "life talks".

It was close to his fifteenth birthday, and Alistair remembered that meeting more than ten years later. Outside of business interactions Alistair's father, Vincent Bradley Jacksoni was a man of few words and of a quiet disposition. To say that he was not loving would have been to speak a falsehood, but the older Tiger with graying black stripes usually reserved his affection for truly important moments and rarely expressed favor over his children in any manner other than a manager might congratulate an employee on a job well done. It was during that meeting when his father took a much more direct role in speaking with Alistair and laid out a very big change in his life.

The older Tiger sat in his burgundy armchair within their manor's study. The study was a room that Alistair and his siblings were rarely allowed to visit and he had been sat down on the ottoman that usually held up his father's feet; in that instance Vincent sat up straight with his bare paws on the carpet, carefully pedicured claws digging into the plush wool. The smell of brandy and pipe smoke was etched into Alistair's mind as his father sat with a drink in one paw and a long necked smoking pipe in the other, saying nothing for many long moments. Alistair had not spoken up and simply chose to remain silent, as all good cubs were told to be.

Eventually, after a time counted off by the ticking and tocking of the study's grandfather clock his father extended the crystal tumbler to him, amber liquid sloshing richly within. "Here, Alistair... take this."

"Yes, Father."

They sat longer in silence and Alistair's father poured himself another drink, and eventually he held the glass up and toward his son. "We are going to make a toast."

Alistair had been through enough toasts in his life to know what to expect but in almost all of the prior cases he had partaken in juice and later wine-- never spirits. He held his glass up toward his father obediently. "To what shall we toast, Father?"

The elder Jacksoni clinked his tumbler to his son's. "To your graduation. I am taking you out of classes."

If the announcement hadn't been enough to make Alistair sputter his first taste of aged brandy was more than enough. It was the day that his father determined that higher learning was not a pursuit for his son and chose instead to help him learn life's lessons through working in the family's many businesses, one year at a time until he was able to learn applicable skills for relating to others. It resulted in more than one beating when Alistair overstepped his bounds, but his father stayed the course and ultimately the young Tiger learned far more about getting along with others and discovering the true ways to make friends wasn't a matter of the weight of one's pockets, rather, it was about the weight of one's character.

Alistair didn't know how long he had spent lounging in his cabin, gazing into his tumbler of Brandy but he also knew that his guest wouldn't interrupt him. Eventually the Tiger sat up straight in his chair and turned to regard his visitor; Ash-Moon, his First Mate was dressed in a simple laced shirt and thigh length cloth pants. The Tribal Jackal rarely wore the clothing of the settled people except when they were in port, which had been a continuing theme for the Wave Rider for over a week. The Jackal finally spoke up, but only once he'd realized that Alistair knew of his presence. "Oani, Rohn."

Alistair downed the last of his Brandy with a quick swig; his first mate spoke his native language every opportunity he had, often to the frustration of his shipmates, but the Tiger didn't mind. It was a greeting, but it was a loaded one, with an implied inquiry. He answered the Jackal's unspoken question-- the one he'd been asking for nearly five days. "Yes. Today."

Ash-Moon simply nodded. The Tribesman's savage, intense gaze had unsettled Alistair for the longest time but in the years they had worked together it was just another trait that the Tiger came to know and appreciate about his straight-talking, matter-of-fact friend. As with all of the Jackal's prior visits Ash-Moon had come to ask if they would be leaving port; he, like Alistair was a man who sought adventure and listened to the siren call of wanderlust. In fact, Alistair couldn't remember the last time he had the Wave Rider docked at any settled port for so long. Rather than ask for clarification regarding their departure, Ash-Moon surprised him with a different follow-up question. "Did you see your family?"

Alistair let out a sigh, sliding his glass away from him on the table. "You know I didn't... you've seen me here every day we've been in port."

His First Mate, as usual, spoke his mind. "We stayed here so you could attend your father's funeral. If you did not see your family then there was no reason for us to be here, Rohn."

The Tiger flexed his claws as he clenched his paws; sometimes the Tribesman's lack of filter got to him, but it was a valid statement. Rather than try to argue the point he fixated on something else that had often come up in conversation but as a question it never had been answered. "Why in the bloody hell do you call me that anyway? Just what does it mean, Ash?"

The Jackal remained stone-faced, simply flicking an ear in response. "I will tell the men to be ready to leave with the tide, Captain."

With that, Ash-Moon about faced and stepped out of the cabin, closing the door quietly behind himself as he went. Alistair was again left to his own devices with no company other than himself and, truth be told, he wasn't very good company. The Tiger brushed off his clothing and smoothed out the creases in his trousers as he stepped up to a mirror, family still on his mind. He took a few moments to make sure he was presentable before speaking to himself as if he were a crewman. "You have no place among them any longer. You belong out at sea and you know it."

After hearing the news of his father's passing Alistair had guided the ship back to Ilyse near his family's home in New Southerland. A barrister from his father's estate had stopped by the Wave Rider while it was in port and provided him a copy of the will along with his proceeds from the estate of Vincent Bradley Jacksoni. Included with the effects was a letter written to him by his father. Although Vincent's passing was unexpected, the letter, based on its envelope's haggard and faded condition had obviously been in existence for some time.

The letter had confirmed that his father was proud of him, and was pleased that Alistair had finally found his calling. It reaffirmed that, despite being the only of Vincent's cubs to have left school without completion he was not a failure; his many successes in life were proof of that. The letter ended with an admission of favor, and the final farewell included a sentence that had struck Alistair numb: "Despite how difficult it was for you to learn in school, you have done much to help me learn ever so much more about life."

Alistair picked up the letter from its place on his dresser and slid it into the inner pocket of his captain's coat. His crew would be eager to leave port and he was not about to disappoint them. He'd had his time to grieve and with the business of his father's death conducted the next step would be to set the prow seaward and celebrate life. At that moment, life meant the clear blue skies and the surging waters of the Southern Sea... and he was more than ready for it.