Edlund felt as if every bone in his body was magically transformed into lead. Moving them was a pain, far greater than he usually gets from pulling wheat and straw all day. He hadn't realized exactly how sore he was after tussling with the man with glowing armor till he was sat on one of the physician's wooden tables that rose to his stomach. The soft wool cloth was a relief, but still, he moved like a wooden doll. Half of the large room was filled with these beds tucked as close to the walls as possible, and an opening running the length of the chamber. Near the entrance, the physician's tools hung and dangled from hooks and latest in bags, a sink permanently stained in blood, and several herbs, flowers, and roots he never saw before. The room wasn't really packed.
Besides himself and Gray, about five others laid on spare tables with varying injuries. One was bandaged over his arm, kept strictly straight out with long carved sticks. Another had his left eye covered in white clothe, his shirt dampened with blood. Gray laid beside him, still unconscious but breathing steadily. The physician was preparing balms and ointments to treat the blisters that appeared, humming as he did so. The ceramic mask shaped like a bird's beak covered everything but his eyes bobbed to an invisible tune as if the song in his eyes drowned out the groans of pain. Two beady black eyes poked out just above the mask, seemingly focused on everything at once, nothing really leaving their sight.
"This is only the lighter days," he swiped his hands across the wide room lazily, the dim candles seemingly flickering as he did so. His voice was deep, but hushed like he was talking from down a well. "Once day breaks, there will be more than I'd know what to do with alone. Going to have to call some of the local doctors for assistance."
He brought over a small red ceramic jar fill with a dull red paste. After carefully removing Gray's armor and shirt, he began applying it to all the redder parts of his arms, chest, and face.
"Exhaustion," the doctor said when he saw all of the soars. "Interesting. Usually, only mages have to worry about such things. Must be quite a weapon if it did this much damage to his soul."
"You know about mages," Edlund asked him, and the beak wobbled up and down.
"Aye," he closed the rubber cap on the jar and returned it to the shelf he grabbed it from. "Back during the war, I roamed the fields along with countless others. Back when those of the empire and Torlak shed the same blood. Those dark days, when the empire nearly tore in two. It seemed then as if all our enemies had turned their heads at once. Including ourselves."
The doctor returned with a black bag of instruments, clanging against one another as he set them on the stool next to Edlund's bed. He gulped and chuckled nervously as he took out small knives, creams, and instruments for examination, the kind he feared the most.
"Hey, is that all for me?" He asked the doctor cautiously, who was already searching every inch of Edlund's body for injuries. "I'm honestly flattered, but I don't believe such implementation is needed-"
"Nonsense my boy," as Edlund tried to rise, the doctor's stiff hand was placed on his chest and forced him down with surprising strength. Edlund could feel fear taking hold of him. There was only one physician in BrokenArrow, an older woman. He remembered when he was young when plowing the field, playing outside with Lyse and other kids, he would accidentally cut himself, or others somehow. The doctor was comforting. She did not have the long beakish mask, but a face mask resembling a doll's smile. It was comforting, her large black eyes looking upon him with care and love. He tried to hold onto those feelings as he was undressed, and the cold fingers of this doctor trailed his body like he was preparing to dissect him.
"I never caught your name," Edlund told him, trying to take his mind off of the moment.
The beak cocked to the side, but his eyes were not taken off of his diligent work. "Why is it important?"
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"I don't know," Edlund admitted, shivering as the fingers trailed bruise on his shoulder, and the burns from when he touched the armor. "I'd like to have a name to tell my ancestors in the afterlife."
"Ah, I see. Forgive me for the Matron did not give us proper names." Edlund couldn't guess at what kind of smile laid beyond those beady eyes, almost lifeless. "You can tell them that Loimós sent you. But don't worry, these injuries are nothing severe."
He was right at least. Some balms and ointments for the burns, a few stitches and bandages, he would be good as new. He was not quite fully aware of how much he soldiered in that dungeon. The burns received when in contact with that flaming serpent were still quite visible across his chest. The cuts and bruises from the Lamia were certainly pulsing every now and again. And the beating he got in return from that giant man was still relatively fresh. Yet, in just an hour, he was mostly patched up and ready to go. And he spent that hour in deep contemplation, deeper than ever before. He thought all the way back to his days training under the knight Gabbes. Running till his lungs burned and his arms felt like bleeding. Running, faster than those he trained with, faster than Lyse. Lifting large rocks as large as a man and putting cracks into them with bleeding knuckles. Yet, when it came to a waster training, taking those wooden swords, Lyse would have him at the point each and every time.
He clutched his bedsheets. Fate, where do I even go from here?
When Loimós finished bandaging the last of the cuts, he began to gather his instrument to take to a sink, a round metal tub filled with strange-smelling water in the corner of the room. The doctor tossed whatever he used on Edlund into the water, taking a cloth and washing them as thoroughly as possible. In the meantime, Elena walked in, still a little inebriated from the stronger ales that she brought to the table, but only manifested in her rosy cheeks. Those same furrowed brows and angular features remained stoic as always.
"Had fun you two?" Edlund jeered.
"Lyse turned in early, I just came to see how Gray is doing," she told him as she strode into the room, stopping seeing Loimós in the corner washing his tools. "Good to see you. Treating your patients well I hope?"
"Ah, Elena, a pleasure," he turned on his heels, grabbing a new set of black gloves from a stack next to the sink. His beak raised a bit in acknowledgment, a pleasant tone ensued. "It has been a while, daughter of Atticus Rosenwald."
"My father often came by here," Elena explained to Edlund, who gave her an odd, and puzzled look. "We would collect special herbs for him, along with some other extravagant ingredients. I swear he might be trying to make his own lab of abominations."
Edlund gulped, his throat suddenly tightening at the thought. "I must say, doctor, your case on whether or not I should trust you is not very strong. It's almost damning evidence to the contrary."
"Oh please," the doctor closed his black leather bag, it's contents clanking and scraping so uncomfortably, Edlund shivered in his position. "I leave such things to Vince of Hath. Where they seek mere satisfaction in advancements, I find it in mending those that are broken, two different paths my boy. Now, you shall rest for this night. Your wounds would at least healed over a week's worth at that time. It will leave less than a scar. You, my dear, what is the purpose of your visit?"
"I came to check on Gray," she walked over to his bedside, his steadily sleeping figure lying sprawled on the raised cot and his wounds recently tended to. Still, there was a stiffness in how he slept, as if she could see something holding his body in that uncomfortable position. His skin was still red, although lessening now. She saw how bad it could have gotten if he used that blade even once more. And yet, she still asked the doctor that question.
"How bad was it?" she asked silently, and the doctor was uncomfortably silent as well.
Eventually, he did manage to answer, with a deliberate, careful tone. "A fine lad that is. However, creating water from nowhere must take a toll on the physical body. A strain only those of Torlak are trained to endure. They call it Hing Sickness, a weakness of the soul that shows itself in the body. If you presented him to me any later, he could have critically been injured, and I would doubt he would be able to even wield a sword at that point. I would suggest he be careful or at least take some training to deal with these ill effects before they become too severe next time."
(X)
When Lyse awoke the that morning, he felt as if he had slept for days, wherein true the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. It had been a few days since the trials and he's still sore. As Lyse's foggy eyes looked out of his window, out towards the north and over the mountain, the dull red of the sky reminded him of the blood of that boney tree, and those monsters that guarded them. He thought that good sleep was beyond him after the horror and stress experienced in that dungeon. Some of the cuts still stung, and drops of blood spotted the fresh sheets like darkening pools after a storm. He half expected to see Edlund there, still snoring as the day would never come, and he would have to shake him awake. But now, such pleasantries of peasant living was gone. He was expected to rise on his own, and be ready at a moment's call all on his own. It was still something that had not sunk in because he had yet to really have time to adjust to his surroundings.
With a sigh, he sat up in his bed, looking down at the armor that he had thrown off that night. To his startlement, they were all freshly changed and washed. They laid in neat piles, his gambison fresher than he has ever seen it, little specks of dirt all that is left as a tribute to all the time he wore it in training, marching through the hill in full battle gear, practically racing everyone through the exercise, even Gabbes who trained him. When he would accompany his father to the nearest town to sell their crops, although never feeling that his presence was ever necessary. Even the sword, the sword his father bled to make, shined free of blood, better than what he could have done. And as he expected, not a scratch upon its hard surface. He placed all this apparel upon himself, the momentoes of his village, of his home with him, with the comforting smell of the field still clinging onto them despite the rigorous attempts to rid them of it.
Just a few moments later, he heard loud, clamoring footsteps like a deer was trampling through the halls. It turned out that nothing so elegant, but in turn brutish, as Edlund, freshly bandaged and smiling, slammed open the door. His skin was still a bit red around his arms, waxed linen still clinging to his wounds. But otherwise, he looked like the same Edlund that left the village, with a chin, now held a bit higher. Behind him was Gray, who seemed to be doing much better, but a sick and tired expression constantly weighed on his face, though he tried to smile all the same. Edlund almost immediately grabbed onto Lyse's arm as he was tying his shoes down, trying to pull him out of the room.
"Come on, we will be late, Elena already went on ahead," Edlund said in cherry tones as if he was seeing jesters perform. To an extent, Lyse understood his enthusiasm. Being the first team out of the dungeon was a big honor, one that can not be overlooked, no matter where you are from. Surely people would want them there as the other teams would begin exiting the dungeon, purely for the interest."
"Fine," Lyse managed to wrench free of his grasp, grabbing his sword holster and a cloak. Even this deep within the castle, it was pretty lively, more so from when they first arrive. Curious eyes still laid upon them, but instead of suspicion, the vibe seemed to shift to a hint of marvel. Words traveled fast, even in such a large city. When a baby is born within the plain villages, it is known within that day the child's name. Lyse thought it astonishing that the names of the current record holders are well known within the morning. Now it seemed every knight in the capital, every soldier with spare time and even some of the nobles traveled the journey up the mountain path to the entrance of the dungeon, where the king had stayed with his Paladins. The ceremony, for which the new knights shall choose their path within the empire. Today was that day, and Lyse couldn't help but smile.
Every so often, someone would approach them, eyeing them from the sea of pedestrians to congratulate them. Some would recount their encounters within, their own record, and even returning after finishing to beat that record. Lyse and Edlund found that alone to be a sign of insanity. To allow yourself the horror that lied within. Lyse didn't even want to think about those situations, the bridge especially. However, Lyse found it odd to the different paths that they all took, all the different monsters they had to slay, run away from, and avoid. One said that a pit would open to a pit full of undead animals, and you had to crawl out without getting bitten, otherwise, it was the end of the dungeon. Another fought a hydra, not knowing one of the key things to remember, and had to flee from a twenty headed serpent after it killed two of his old friends. That, at least, was common. A lot of deaths, whole squads being killed with only one survivor. They were told that they were lucky, as the chances of a four-man squad to survive were much slimmer than even finding a relic. Lucky is a word used quite often as well in these conversations. But still, there was an air to reminisce to. But some were not quite that tasteful in their approach.
Jealousy is nothing new to Lyse and Edlund. They found jealousy within themselves and others quite often training with nobles and children of merchants. They always had to work twice as hard to get anything that the noble children got. Lyse remembers his first gambison when he was sixteen after he sold many of their livestock and grain for that summer. But amidst this crowd, he felt woefully underdressed. Every fabric and embroidery of the world seemed to ascend the mountain, every third person wearing golden pins and jewel-encrusted rings and bracelets.
Lyse also was a bit startled to find some Thirian Knights in the crowd, rather pleased to see the new crop of young blood to be joining their ranks. This wasn't to mean that all conversations were as lightly toned. Many discussed the death toll, speculating drastically of those poor souls that died these past few days. This brought back the memory of all those bodies he found, much old and skin like parchment. He wondered how many of these people's "friends" he stepped over in the tunnel. Especially those that had the worst of it, who's death was far from honorable. Rarely did he engage in those conversations, slipping through by saying that he might of, but didn't see anything leading to anyone's identity. Edlund couldn't remember much of anything even if he tried. He tried to overlook such things.
As they came to the summit, they looked upon a massive crowd that immediately dwarfed him. He wouldn't know if he's be mistaken if he said every man and woman with title and sword had attended this. There was a clear space in the center of the clearing, where twenty of the sentinel guards stood in a tight circle around the king, forming the perimeter of where these new knights shall be welcomed. The king still sat, not looking back over to the crowd that clamored, nor his Paladins. In fact, they might as well not be there. Yet the king held that smile, less splendor from when he had when he greeted Lyse as if every person that would come next wasn't worth as warm a greeting. His Paladins stood like statues flanking either side of him, also facing the entrance with stony glances. The only one seemed to be loose in their appearance was Lupurious, who casually rocked on his heels and shifted his feet in the snow. He seemed to be excited to feel the sun hit his back, his golden armor reflecting the sun's golden rays.
A few minutes of confusion went by before Lyse locked eyes with Elena, who was having a conversation with a few more women. Immediately Lyse saw that they were all related, probably sisters or cousins of Elena. He averted his gaze as he saw Elena point her finger to him. He waited a few seconds to look back, seeing her call them over. He gave an uncomfortable squeeze to his gloves, then patted Edlund and Gray's shoulder to point Elena out in return. They approached, and immediately the two other women seemed to analyze Lyse and Lyse alone, completely ignoring Gray and Edlund. Their stare stiffened his back, even as he nodded a greeting to Elena. The first had long straight black hair like Elena, although braided, and golden clothe weaving through them as if restraining her lockes. She wore a silver-grey dress with black trimming, sweeping to her black knee-high boots. A wool sweater covered her shoulder, lined with fur. her face was a bit more angular to the rounder face of Elena, but otherwise, they shared the same eyes, like a hawk upon a rabbit. The other was a counterpart. Same dark eyes and black hair, except hers spilled down her shoulders instead. She was a similar dress, green covered in a floral pattern that seemed to make her stand out to what was around her perfectly. Her chin was held a bit higher as they approach, as though she tried to stare down the men who stood head and shoulders above her. Even Elena was substantially taller.
"This is Lyse and Edlund," Elena mentioned, and the two barely reacted as they tried to lock eyes with him. "They are sons of the fous swordsman, Wilbur, you hear? I doubt we would have made it with any other help, maybe even Dagmyre."
"Heard that you actually defeated the prick himself," the one with the braids snorted. "My name is Aura Rosenwald, daughter of Atticus Rosenwald. Peace be with you"
The other bowed her head, in a similar greeting as Lyse had done. Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet all the more attention-grabbing. "And my name is Selene Rosenwald, daughter of Atticus Rosenwald. Peace be with you."
"Peace be with you as well," Lyse told her, bowing his head to them as well. "As Elena has said we are both sons of sir Wilbur Opal."
"How are you?" Edlund smirked and did the same. "We're not one for titles."
"I can see that," Aura told him, barely glancing. "Thank you for accompanying my sister through the dungeon. The stars know she would have gone in alone and died if allowed. Also a bit surprising she even praises you without being here. She must have taken a particular interest in you."
The words may have been intended to both him and Edlund, but the tone made it more apparent that it was pointed specifically at Lysse. Even in the cold, Lyse's feet shifted uncomfortably as if he was in the Desserts of Shi'Ased. Edlund stifled a snicker, and both Gray and Elena averted their gaze for that moment. Elena then cleared her throat, as if she had something else to say, but Selene spoke before she did.
"Anywho, father will be very proud when words reach him," Selene said in an almost chiming voice. "Breaking the king's own record shows much promise. Shame you are not yet wed my dear sister, you would no doubt be enough to claim a name alone by this point."
It was Elena's turn to shift in embarrassment, and Lyse pities them both now. It was clear to him that Aura and Selene were married, and sought the same for Elena. He could tell she was stubbornly uninterested at most, making their efforts very difficult. However, they must have seen the soft spot struck with Lyse, the only person she softens to besides the child of the blacksmith Gray. Whether they intend to wed her to Lyse, he did not want to talk about or go any further. It seemed they kept him in the corner of their eye to measure his response. From their assessment, he seemed well fit for this role. His muscular and worked body was optimal for any warrior. Blond hair was a rare sight this far north in the empire, along with eyes that challenged the clarity of the sky. These things nearly remind them of stories of old warriors and heroes who would slay dragons single-handedly, and save the princess. Hardly would they call Elena such, Lyse was the best they have gotten in years.
Thankfully, the conversation was broken with a loud cheer. They all immediately turned to see several men stumble out of the darkness. The sun was climbing into the sky now. Lyse thought it about two days since the king's record time. Everyone seemed acutely aware, a bit in shame that they came so close, yet so far. One was covered in burn wounds along his right arm, the clothe sticking to him as he clutched it close in the arm. Every step made him wince. The one carrying him seemed not much better. Several lacerations were made along his chest and back. From what Lyse or Edlund saw, they were all shallow, like they had come from some sort of whip. The last with this group clutched closely to the silver relic in one hand, and a sword glowing similarly to Lyse in the other. He wasn't covered in many bruises and cuts, but his face was strained and worried. He was still fixated on the dark of the cave over his shoulder as he stumbled out and seemed to not notice the crowd at first. Lyse knows how jarring this all must be.
The king knows of what horrors they saw, Lyse thought as the last turned violently realizing the cheers. He immediately whirled his sword at the crowd at that moment and then stared in almost disbelief as he was free. One would wonder just how lucky we were. Never would I try to repeat this hell, I would rather curse the empire itself.
The king didn't greet them with the same enthusiasm he showed Lyse's team. He nodded to them as they passed him by, men with stretchers moving through the crowd to load them upon. Still, they bowed stiffly, as low as they could manage without doubling over in pain, and went on to be carried away to whatever physician awaited them. Lyse saw Edlund shivered for some unknown reason as he saw the ones with a ceramic mask carefully laid them upon the thick clothe between two poles of stick. He remembered that he was actually quite fond of the doctor in their village. She was one of the few unmarried women of BrokenArrow. Being behind a mask practically all day, seldom revealing her face makes it easy to fantasize, however. Edlund remembered that day after Lyse got that serious cut that he claimed to see her face, and promised it was the beauty of the world.
Still, though, more injured will come. Two more came out hours later p, a man and a woman with similar-looking armor. Lyse vaguely remembered their names being discussed just before entering. Cousins of Lupurious, who stared at them with judging intent. They didn't seem too badly injured, a scrape and scrap here and there. But to remember, that they had entered with two others. Returning without them was synonymous with losing your weapon, or perhaps not even retrieving a relic. They froze in his sight and then saw the king staring into the darkness beyond and hastily bowing. They were met with equal cheer from everyone. That was the same throughout the day. Even though a group usually only exited once or twice an hour, the feel of the environment not wavering, no matter what trauma was seen. Neither a scar of an arm or burns across a face really impacted the mood beyond what conversation they sparked. Stories of previous injuries being compared a lot, Lyse noticed. But, that all changed when Dagmyre, and his group, stumbled out of the darkness.
Lyse didn't entirely know or guessed what state Dagmyre would be in. The last he remembered, he was being swept down a tunnel by a massive wave with a missing hand. Lyse even suspected he died, as he knows few people in all of the plains near his village who suffered such a severe wound and survived. You'd have to be very proficient with aura to heal it back. However, sluggishly the noble traveled on ahead into the light, holding a cloth-bound stub against his stomach, still soaked with blood that stained his armor, and his sword in the other. Almost immediately when insight, all conversation was stopped. All furrowed brows were now pointed to Dagmyre and his weary crew, holding no silver relic in hand, the very first group in fact seen without one. Even the king looked momentarily surprised as he stood to greet them. A look of shame enfolded his face, far more than those behind him. Edlund saw the man he had fought, his armor heavily warped like it had been banged and bashed by the heaviest of mallets. They must have encountered something on their way out. And with a missing hand, it wasn't made much easier for them.
"That is what happens when the hot metal cools too quickly in water," Gray sighed. "A glaring weakness of the armor. It heats up as it gifts the user with incredible speed and might. But when hit by saltwater near freezing, he is lucky it didn't just shatter. Still fixable I suppose if the right materials were to be secure. . . "
Lyse couldn't take his eyes off of Dagmyre. Seemingly no one did, some with gaping mouths. Lyse guessed he was some sort of star pupil, or at least someone everyone supposed would run into little trouble. Yet he stumbles out with a missing hand, bruises across his cheek, and no relic. Not even knighthood to reward his endurance. Already Lyse could hear the rising mention of his name and Edlund's. He guessed that the Knight's Inn wasn't the only place this rumor spread, spread probably by Edlund himself who held some satisfaction in his curled lips. He tried to keep his head down as eyes began to glance, although he cursed his bright blond hair distinguishing him from everyone else.
Dagmyre shuffled without stopping, only once to promptly nod to the Paladins and bow to King James, and move on past the guards. A few of the helpers that carried the other injured approached to help him onto a stretcher, but suddenly his slumped figure straightened at the sight of him, lifting his head in defiance and anger that surprised everyone.
"I do not need your help," his words cut the air itself. "Leave me be. I'll find my own way."
They went into a start and allowed him to pass. The crowd parted into a wide birth to allow him through with no resistance. But eyes stayed upon him, and his severed arm until he disappeared down the path. One of the medics looked to Novia for concerns. She just gave them a wary look and motioned for just two of them to follow them all. At that point, the king stood from his sitting position, shaking the snow that had clung to him. That immediately snapped all the attention towards him, and all of the sentinel guards snapped their attention towards him. Lyse noticed his steady smile as he observed the crowd, his look lingering in his direction for just a second longer. Those knights who were well enough to stand kept his eyes upon him. The Paladins kept to his flank, staring past the crowd and into nothing. All three were expectant as the king spoke, his stone face nearly towering in the presence of everyone else.
"Sixty men and women, to become knights, have entered this dreaded dungeon for the pursuit of ten silver relics that will allow them the path of service of this kingdom," his voice ranged, sweeping his hands towards each of the newly appointed knights who at least tried to hold their head high. "Praise their strength and might, might that shall be our own. And now, the decision lies upon them. Praise their skill and wisdom, the guidance of will. And praise their Honor and Bravery, the courage of our people shall rest on their shoulders. The swords, shields, and minds of the empire. The light to push us forward."
The king tossed aside his long fur-lined coat to reveal a sword that Lyse had not noticed. And as soon as he did, he could not take his eyes off of it. From a red leather sheath covered in Golden leaflets, a two-handed longsword was pulled forth nearly the length of his arm. The silver-like blade reflecting the early sun like a mirror, and as sharp as none else. The crossguard was simple, along with the leather handle with a brass pommel resembling a roaring lion. Lyse had seen more ornate blades carried by knights in his village, even some of the Noble children he trained with. But the way the blade looked in King Jane's hand made it look like it could shatter the moon itself. He held it up proudly over the crowd. Novia raised her own blade as well. A shorter sword fit for one hand, the blade with a heavy waving pattern of an "s". Lupurious took out a sword that seemed more fitting of a king, a solid golden sword so radiant in power Lyse could feel it from where he stood thirty paces away. And finally, Aurelius who took out what appeared to be a war hammer resembling a ram with twisted, spiked horns, and raised it along with the others.
"May we be the sword that dispatches our enemies," Aurelius said in a near chant, stony voice.
"The shield that guards our people," Lupurious went along.
"The minds that seek the unknown," Novia said.
"And the Light to outshine our Stars, our moons and sun," the king said. "From the Purest of oceans and the azure skies beyond. Now, the choice belongs to you, my trusted knights. Fate shall smile upon you only three times. And only your death shall reward you in the service of your people."
Lyse had to take a moment to take in what was happening. It was the ceremony, the one he dreamed about countless times. The Paladins held their swords out, signifying the place where the new knights shall choose their future as a knight. War, security, exploration. All three to be chosen for the twenty-five knights to serve under. Lyse's heart crept into his throat as his blood began to rush, even more so than when he fought those assassins sent for him in the forest. Without waiting, one of the other knights with a limp walked up towards Lupurious. Lupurious did not glance down as the new knight knelt before him, one knee in the snow and his right arm over his heart. Everyone was silent during these motions, and it made the still air unnerving. One by one a knight would walk up to kneel in line to one of the three. Everyone seemed hesitant and cautious as if just now weighing the decisions in their heads. Edlund looked glued to his feet, staring down at his shoes as if they would leap from him. His brow was furrowed more than Lyse ha ever seen. He also noticed that few actually walked to Novia's side, only two knights from the same team, and even they looked unsure. Lyse wondered why.
Finally, the first among them to move was Gray. He walked with stiffness to Aurelius, trying to look as confident as possible. He knelt there, and Elena seemed to give a sigh of relief from behind Lyse. She then walked past him, directly to Aurelius as well, a lot more composed than Gray had been. She kneeled beside him, sharing a small smile before going into the practiced bow. It took nearly a minute before Lyse noticed then, that he and Edlund were last. He felt a shake in his knees he was not used to. He still could not decide readily. For a moment, he considered joining Elena and Gray, as the spirit around him suggested. But just as he put his first foot forward, a voice, unlike his own, whispered in the nether of his mind.
Seek. Explore.
The two words sent a chill down his spine, and immediately he felt a connection back to that tall woman, who radiated with power within his dream. The image of her face as she gave him his task, gave him the path Fate had decided, and a way of rescuing his sister. Those feelings drove him, as he walked, not to Aurelius, but next to him, kneeling before Novia. There were immediate murmurs as he knelt bowing his chin to his chest before Novia's wavy blade. He felt a tug in his gut as if this was the right action,w which relieved him little. Still, he disliked so many eyes upon him. He seemed the quieter regions of his mind to keep the nauseous feeling away as he concentrated instead on what is to come.
And then, Edlund chose as well. Lyse had just looked up and to his left, to see Edlund kneeling among ten other new knights, his head faced to the snow before Lupurious. All three of them gave him a side-longed look. Lupurious seemed that he wished to lose his composure, but this only manifested in a stir of his boots. following the security path seemed like the last Edlund would choose, as it would put him closest in the service of nobles, the last he had wished for, but he still held a smile towards Lyse. The same smile he wore when Lyse told him that he had been accepted to take the trials. When they both were accepted. It was gratitude and eagerness.
"And so, they have chosen," King James's sword suddenly glowed fiercely, brighter than anything that Lyse could produce, drowning the sun in its radiance. He had to squint his eyes, along with those in the crowds, to keep from blindness. The bright light only lasted a moment, the air still humming in excitement around the king as he held his face high with a smile. The Paladins sheathed their respected weapons, blanking as if they had not closed their eyes, and with that, the cheer rocked the mountainside. The knights melted back into the crowd as congratulations from cousins and close family, friends, and allies ranged about. In fact, Lyse could hear the faint ringing of bell tolls in the distant capital city, the light no doubt being a signal of the completion of the trials. Lyse stayed looking up as Edlund approached with an abashed look.
"It's hard to believe I hear," Edlund sighed in relief. "Honestly I thought I'd had a stroke and passed out walking like that. It took all efforts to not soil myself."
His expression was cheerful, but his voice was heavy. No doubt he was waiting for Lyse to say something in the offense to his choice, even flinching as Lyse flung himself forward. But he was met only by a hug, as tight as any friend could muster. Lyse held it until Edlund returned it, then looked him in the eye.
"I can never judge the likes of you," he told Edlund. "But tell me why? I thought we'd be fighting as brothers in arms."
Edlund looked once again down to his boots, meeting Lyse's curious eyes with determination. "I always felt like I was in your shadow, Lyse. I don't mean to curse you or anything like that, but I always had to try that much harder to be recognized. Even Gabbes only accepted, partially because of your Protest, and I felt guilty of that. It did not feel earned. And so, I think I should make a name for myself. Away from Lyse Opal. Not at this moment mind you, we still need to find your sister. But our paths must split, mustn't they?"
Lyse felt silent for a while. Edlund was like the only slice of his home he had brought with him to Silondras. He thought of years fighting with him in the fields and mountains beyond their home for years. But now, their path diverges. He cursed himself for not seeing this sooner, instead of being upset with Edlund in any capacity. He mustered a proud smile as he held out his hand.
May fate smile upon you," he told him, and his smile returned as well. He clasped Lyse's in a tight grip, the leather grinding against one another.
"Both of us," Lyse responded. "You will always be my brother."