Korrath walked over to the slab he used for a bed, closed his eyes, and spoke softly to the gathering spirits. “Korrath of the House of Madakor dishonored himself, his house, and the Empire during the month of HovpoH 233988 when he encountered a barely warp capable nov vessel entering Klingon space.” Korrath loosened the cuffs of his tunic, one and then the other. “He fired on the vessel and destroyed it without warning.” He loosened his collar and slowly began to work the buttons that held his tunic together. “When he reported the deed to the High Council, a salvage vessel was dispatched to scavenge whatever they could find in order to learn more about this new threat against the Empire.” With the final clasp undone, Korrath shed his tunic and dropped it onto his concrete mattress. “They were no threat. They were not aliens. They were Klingons!” Korrath turned towards the altar, opened his eyes and began to speak faster. “A lost colony, believed to have been destroyed during the Hur’Iq invasion had somehow survived. They rebuilt their colony from nothing.” He stepped towards the altar. “It took their descendants hundreds of years, but they rediscovered warp travel and a means to return home to Qo’noS.” He reached the altar and knelt down. “Korrath of the House of Madakor brought dishonor upon his house for his actions that day.” He picked up the sanctified dagger and held it over the bowl. “His blood runs through my veins.” With his other hand, he clenched the blade tight and allowed the blood to drip steadily faster into the bowl. “I am free of his dishonor and resolve all honorable warriors of our bloodline of sharing his fate.” Gripping the blade tighter, he slid the dagger from his clenched fist. “Take your place in Sto’vo’kor where you belong!” He slipped the Dagtagh into the bowl and used it to mix its contents.
The room became quiet – too quiet. He was suddenly aware of his warrior’s heart beating in his chest like a drum. Now was the moment of his decision. If he continued with the Rite of Redemption, he would restore the House of Madakor to honor at the cost of the House of Korrath. His house was small and short lived, but it was his. Everything that it had, he had achieved through determination and hard work. However, the House of Madakor was a noble house with a history that goes all the way back to the time of Kahless. At the peak of its power and influence, it even had a seat on the High Council, but that was a long time ago. He had already released his ancestors from their burden; he could stop and just walk away. By doing so, however, he would be no better than his name sake. He must do the honorable thing. He must restore the House of Madakor.
Korrath began chanting, singing the song, and pounding his fists on the altar. He stared into the contents of the bowl as he did this and watched the ripples form, collide, and splash about. When the song finished, he picked up the bowl in one hand. He slowly began to pour the contents over the filth covered bat’leth and began to wipe away seven generations of dishonor with his free hand. Slowly the inscription on the blade became visible. Once it was clean and its message became clearly visible, he set the bowl on the ground beside him. He turned the blade over and repeated the process until its message was also visible. He brought the bowl to his lips and drained the remainder of its contents. He rose to his feet, picked up the blade, and hung it back on the wall. It was done. The House of Madakor had been redeemed.
Korrath went to his bed, picked up the tunic and dressed himself. He returned to the altar and glimpsed the inscription as the candle light seemed to make the words glow with an internal fire. He read the words silently to himself. With a smile, he blew out the candles, snuffed out the incense, and left his quarters. As he made the short journey back to his ready room to continue checking his crew’s tax forms, he repeated the words aloud: yIyep maDaqor tuq! quvwIj yIQan! – Be careful, House of Madakor! Protect your honor!