Redspear Transition

The Redspears are an elite group of warriors masquerading as mercenaries until such time as they find the prophesised 'chosen' of their people to protect.

Divinely Chosen

Chosen by the Gods to protect The One, there are always 50 men in the Redspear ranks. When a Redspear dies, and is returned to clanlands, a young man in the clans between the ages of 10-15 will find the small, circular mark that represents those of the Redspear rank, and know they have been chosen for the ranks. No matter where the new Redspear is in relation to the old, the other Redspears have a sense of their location. Redspears are brothers-in-arms bound together not just by loyalty and tradition, but with a magical sense of where the others are at all times.

The Replacement

When a Redspear dies, their body must be recovered. No matter their quest to find The One, wherever they are in the world, Redspears are of the land, of their land. Their being and their essence are meant to be laid to rest in the soil where every clanperson before them has been interred. Living Redspears can always sense the death of one of their own, and so they can also sense where their replacement is to be found, once the body has been returned. Redspear rank and file is complicated, the individuals are meant to all be equal, they're meant to be jack-of-all-trades, not confining themselves to one task or role within the ranks (it's not quite true, but is meant to be perceived as so by outsiders. As such, when a Redspear dies, five men who have not taken the journey to transition the deceased and find their replacement recently, are sent with the body back to the clanlands and to retrieve the next-marked child to join their ranks. The mark will not appear in its entirety until after a body, or a symbol of the body, has been returned to the earth. Although not common knowledge amongst the clans or the Redspears, an incomplete interring results in an incomplete mark on the new individual, although the bond to other Redspears is no less than others. Commenting or speculating on an incomplete mark is the greatest shame for both clan and Redspear. Marks are always complete.

The Ceremony

Although Redspears do not need to check the mark of their new companion, they can sense who the new Redspear is, the clans conduct a ceremony to farewell the child that has been chosen. No matter their bonds before, a Redspear's loyalty is first and foremost to The One, second to other Redspears. They are no longer clan once they receive the mark. The Farewell is a ceremony held around a large bonfire, where the clan inspects the new Redspear for his mark, stripping him down and parading him naked through the clan to confirm the mark. This stage is an almost solemn event, not a celebration, but the first step of 'otherness' a young Redspear will face. The clan then feeds the new Redspear and the group of Redspears sent to collect him, a many-course meal of hearty foods, exotic foods, both the most basic and the most expensive of the goods available to the clan hosting them. The final serving is a goblet of fermented atetkal milk. A distasteful brew that represents the new Redspear being cast away from the clan, being served something near-inedible so they will not wish to return and shirk their duties. It's tradition more than anything else, because a Redspear cannot cast away their role once the bond appears.

After

After the ceremony, the group of five Redspears becomes the mentors of the new member or members, depending on how many were replaced in this cycle. Given the Redspears travel the world as mercenaries in search for The One, the journey back from clanlands (crossing the wastes, traversing oceans if necessary) to join the rest of their group is often long and arduous. This time is spent training the new Redspear. Once arriving with the group, the new member needs to be able to pull his own weight, although it will be some years before he is as skilled as the rest of the elite group of warriors.

"They'll see," Vael hissed, holding the waistband of his pants down slightly to reveal the curved line in a semi-circle that marked his hipbone.
Rothe's eyebrows pulled together, frowning at the incomplete mark. Shirtless, his own mark was a shining, perfect circle on his collarbone. Looking over his brother's shoulder Ruen spotted the mark and cursed. Vael knew that just behind them, keeping lookout, Aroh and Baen would be exchanging a worried look. This was always how it had been. Rothe taking charge, Ruen reacting in anger, and Aroh and Baen following Rothe's orders. Rothe was the eldest of them, the strongest, he would know what to do. Vael didn't feel weak asking him for help, even if it felt like so with others.
"They're going to be here soon," Baen's voice came as a warning from the entrance of the cave.
He was right. The Redspears had arrived a handful of hours earlier, bundles of weighty, wrapped cloth over their shoulders. The families had accepted the burdens of their son's bodies, and the five of them had felt their marks appear. Slowly but surely. Except Vael's had never completed. Where the others had found the circle drawing itself across their skin like a scar from a blade, Vael's had gotten part-way and then never finished. It was a mockery of the circle it was supposed to be.
The presence of others was heavy in his mind. He didn't know how to sort out the pull of 49 different Redspears, most of them a world away. How were they supposed to tell someone's location from that almost painful weight of their presence?
Vael shivered. They were going to kill him. There were no 'almost Redspears'. No half-in, half-out.
Rothe turned to his brother, "Go get mother's necklace. You know where it is." Although Ruen's face was still scrunched up in angry discontent - a young man so nervous and unsure that it was coming out as rage, Ruen nodded and hurried out of the cave at a sprint.
The youngest of them at just ten, Baen caught Vael's eye and gave him a shaky smile. He too, believed in their leader.
"What's the plan, Rothe?" Aroh said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing.
Rothe paused before answering, glaring down at the mark on Vael's hip. Then he looked up, meeting Vael's eyes. "We're going to complete the mark." He said in a calm, unshakeable tone. Vael almost believed him.
Ruen was back in the cave before Rothe could answer Baen's request for clarification, shoving a necklace made of many round metal rings laced together into his brother's hands. The last item they had of their mother. What Rothe hid away so their father couldn't find it. Not that either Rothe or Ruen had admitted it aloud. But Vael had run with the brothers long enough to know many things they hadn't explicitly said.
Taking his belt knife off his hip, Rothe spread the necklace out on a nearby rock and smashed the hilt down on the links. Over and over again, shattering the necklace until dozens of metal pieces clinked to the floor of the cave. Rothe sorted through the pieces that scattered across the floor, looking for the right one, although Vael was too busy gaping at how casually he had destroyed the final heirloom of his mother. Behind him, Ruen's hands had curled into fists, but he didn't say anything in reproach to his brother. Finding something, Rothe tossed a small piece of metal into the fire they had set to shed light when their marks had begun to show.
Slowly but surely, the metal link in the flames glowed dully, and Rothe used his knife to whisk it out before it got white-hot. It was a semi-circle of metal, a near-perfect match for the mark that had faltered halfway on his hip. Rothe was going to burn the rest of the mark into him. Baen hurried forward and handed Rothe a set of leather gloves, and although they were a tight fit for Rothe's larger hands, he squeezed them on before picking up the glowing link. The smell of burning leather permeated slowly in the air.
Gritting his teeth, Vael let Rothe carefully press the metal into his skin. Completing the mark. Making his match theirs.
Rothe tossed the link aside when he was done, peering down at the mark. Checking his work. The others had all stepped forward too.
"We gotta go," Vael said, carefully tying his shaiken at his hip, and trying to not cringe as it brushed the burn. "Before it blisters too much and gives me away."
Rothe met his eye and gave him a nod, before turning to the others. "We never speak of this," he said firmly. It wasn't a command because it didn't need to be. He'd said it, so it would be so amongst them.
"You'll have to go first," Rothe said to Vael as they five of them hurried out of the cave, dousing their fire and scattering the remains of the necklace amongst the ashes. Vael nodded. He'd need to be stripped and walk amongst the clan as soon as possible, and then cover his mark to make sure it scarred as it should to look like the others' marks. "I can walk with you," he offered quietly.
Vael shook his head. No matter what Rothe said, he couldn't walk with him. It just wasn't how it was done. "It's fine. I'll be fine."