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Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Feyblue
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Feyblue Lord of Floof

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A Chivalric (Mis)Adventure



It was a beautiful day in Grayle. The sun was shining and the sky was clear, with a cool breeze blowing a thin mist up from the resplendent aquamarine surface of the Viridian River, drawing rainbows of refracted light out into the spring air. The people of the capital bustled about to and fro -- merchants hawking their wares in the town square, dockhands scampering hither and thither to unload the cargo of newly arrived vessels... and, more unusually, a particularly large crowd of young men could be seen crossing over King's Bridge toward the castle, where a sizeable mass had already gathered in one of the outer courtyards.

For the nobles, the last week had doubtless been one of leisure and relaxation. After all, their acceptance as candidates into the burgeoning ranks of the Knight Sentinels was already secured by virtue of their esteemed blood. Regardless of how well or how poorly they had fared in their opening spar, there was a vast future littered with prizes ahead of them, and for the time being, all they had to do was wait and see who would choose them.

For the children of soldiers and the students of swordsmanship, the last week was likely one of barely contained excitement. Confident in their results, they, too, needn't have feared rejection. Perhaps their thoughts had run wild with the prospect of having impressed one of the Knight-Commanders, being chosen as a favored student and assigned their own squadron, climbing the ranks and swiftly being knighted for their prowess. Such youthful dreams were as abundant as the ripples in the clear waters of the river below.

But for those who were unwanted, those who were unskilled, those whose lofty goals yet remained well beyond the reach of their tiny hands, and those burdened with secrets they could never share... Their week had no doubt been one of trepidation and anxiety. Had they done well enough? Would they be chosen? Could they really prove their worth and stand equal to their peers as knights? What, indeed, did the future hold for the unwanted and the unknown?

And more importantly...

Rumble. Groan. Rumble-rumble.

"...So... friggin'... hungry..."

A tiny, blonde-haired figure groaned, clutching at "his" stomach, looking aimlessly around the courtyard. Or rather, she looked aimlessly at the backs of the people standing around her, since just about everybody else here had the gall to be a head taller than her. She couldn't even see the stage to tell if the herald had actually shown up yet to start reading off who made it and who didn't!

...Well, it wasn't like she was worried about that, though. She'd beaten up some big-shot noble quick as a flash (admittedly with a little help from her trusty pocket sand, but the point is that she had won) so obviously, she'd make it in, right? But that didn't mean anything if she starved to death before getting to reap the rewards of her sweet, sweet victory.

She'd managed what little remained in her meager purse as best she could since coming to the capital, but those funds had run out completely before she'd even stumbled across the knight tryouts, and, in a stroke of good fortune, realized that she could fulfill her childhood dream and get food for free all in one fell swoop. Granted, having to disguise herself as a boy the whole time was kind of a downside, but she'd already been doing that anyway to keep herself safe -- or at least, safer -- on the road. How much harder could it be to just stay in disguise all the time?

She had, of course, forgotten that people who aren't just barely scraping by in abject poverty usually took baths every once in a while, but she would only come to remember that much later, when it was already too late.

For the time being, her lack of food preoccupied her so thoroughly that all else seemed insignificant, and she alternated between mourning the unfortunate ease with which she could feel her ribs even through the padding stuffed beneath her clothes, and periodically hopping up and down to try to peer out over the sea of people surrounding her and see what was taking so long.

And so, the waiting game continued. The Nobles confident, the dreamers expectant, the underdogs anxious... All were hungry for adventure, and one pipsqueak impostor was just plain hungry. Little did she, or anyone, know what highs and lows the future would truly hold. But they were young, and they were brave, and they were ready to begin...
Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Zombehs
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Signar Wayland

While Signar wasn't completely immune to the worries of whether his performance had been adequate for admission, he did find a way to distract himself shortly after the trials. Maintenance for much of the generic equipment held by the Knights was carried out by some of the blacksmiths in the city, and he had paid some of them a visit. None of them were willing to entertain the idea of hiring him on just yet while he was waiting on admission, but he did manage to get a foot in the door with one or two.

Well hopefully it didn't come to that. It would be a bit depressing to just end up working at a blacksmith after he hopped borders and spent a long time on the road. His savings were much diminished though, so he wouldn't have much choice in the matter.

Bah, it was too early in the morning to have such doubts. Even if he was a bit tired from a late evening, the warm sun and fresh air did wonders to wake Signar up. It was a far cry from the heavy air that clogged the lungs with each breath in Lanhelm. A welcome change that he could still appreciate even after nearly a year later.

There were many things he missed about the bustling and industrial city though. With so many craftsman in one place, it was practically alive at all hours of the day. Those willing to become night owls had less peers to compete with when it came to the shared workspace. As a result, there were all sorts of other businesses and services that cropped up. One could find something to eat, even at the latest of hours.

Then again, this was Grayle's capital, so it was practically just as busy. He had little trouble noticing a vendor peddling fresh, hot foodstuff, and he broke away from the congregation of applicants for a brief moment. It wasn't like he'd be unable to see if he was at the back of the pack. From his few months spent in Grayle, it had been rare to see anyone break six feet.

By the time he returned to the courtyard, it seemed like the other applicants had settled in for a wait. Conversations had already started to pick up as there was no sign of any one stepping onto the stage yet. No staff waiting for them in the courtyard. Naturally some of the more nervous ones kept to themselves, but Signar looked among the crowd for his sparring opponent. He had been a pretty decent guy, and Signar wouldn't have minded chatting to kill the time.

He might have been an applicant, but Signar had to admit that Charles certainly had a noble bearing to him. He had introduced himself politely, if a bit softly for Signar to hear over the crowd's excitement. An elegant fighter that drew a sharp contrast to Signar's more brutish swings, but neither haughty nor arrogant. It had been a bit rattling to realize just how easily his attacks were guided away given the disparity in size and physique, but he supposed that's where a lifetime of training came into play.

Using up one of his Replicas had at least let Signar surprise his opponent, but unsurprisingly, the noble had his own magic to counter with as well. The smoke hadn't so much cleared as it had been blown away by a gust of wind, and in the blink of an eye he had found the other boy's rapier pressed against his neck. A rather decisive end to the drawn out spar, but one Signar couldn't even be too mad about. He wasn't skilled, there was no changing that, but thanks to his opponent allowing the match to drag on? Signar had been able to show off what he did have.

Picking just one noble out of the crowd of hundreds was tough going though, even with his height allowing him to scan over their heads. In the end, his attention settled on the oddity hopping around like a rabbit at the back of the crowd. The blonde hair was frankly a bit too common for Signar to recognize who they were from the back.

Julian probably would have noticed the shadow that suddenly loomed over her. Or maybe the smell of freshly baked bread and fried meat caught her attention. Whatever the case was, Signar cleared his throat as he finished swallowing. "Mornin'. Need some help pushing to the front of the crowd?"

@Feyblue
Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Izurich
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--A Foregone Conclusion--


Harebrained fools...

Look at all these so-called "Nobles", no different than the unwashed peasants they often scoffed at, the only difference was that they were - undeservedly - fortunate enough to be born into nobility, both were unskilled fools, but these 'highborns' were arguably worse. The peasantry had little chance to hone their talents when most of their time was devoted to serving their masters, but these blue-blooded simpletons had all the wealth, means, and freedom to sharpen their gifts that the less fortunate could only dream of having. Yet, he could see it in their very eyes, spineless cowards who would run behind their guards upon the slightest hint of danger; in the way they carried themselves, complacent brats spoiled rotten by their so-called birthright, having no need to even worry about their qualifications where their family could just throw gold coins at the problem until it goes away.

It would be an insult to knights everywhere to call these spoon-fed rabble as squires...

Liese Victoire of House Brendorn scoffed as he adjusted the white cuffs of his uniform, bearing the crest and regalia of his house, befitting all the prestige and majesty carried by a descendant of Marquis Childebert Ercwulf Brendorn, one of the four Lord Councilors of Grayle. If there was any highborn out there who could carry the burden of nobility, the responsibilities demanded for all the privileges they received, it'd be him. Never before in his life that he let his boons got into his head, growing up with a deceased mother and an absentee grieving father, Liese carved a path for himself that other young nobles would soon delegate to their servants. He deserved his gifts because he worked for them, not a single piece of his talents remained unpolished, and yet... that fat, lazy, hedonistic excuse of a younger half-brother became first in line to his patrimony, and all just because he had a phallus whereas Liese didn't?!

The very thought was enough to make him squirm in utter repugnance.

This... tradition, these disgustingly immoral laws that placed a person's worth based on their genitals alone, he'd tear it down at the seams and then, just like the Great Sage in ancient times, rebuild a new utopian society where every man and woman would be judged on the worth of their skills. However, Liese had no delusions that he didn't have his work cut out for him, the path ahead would be long and arduous, full of actors who would see him fail, eager for him to give up and accept his lot in life as a mere woman. Oh, worry not, for he didn't come unprepared, Alexander's blood was flowing through his veins, and whether by sword, bow, fire, wind, water, or earth, he'd cut down all who dare to stand in his way, least of all these imbeciles around him. He had decisively vanquished his opponent in the opening spar, so much so that to call it a 'spar' was overstating it, twas' more like a beatdown than anything else, and he certainly wouldn't be the last noble schmuck he'd conquer on his way to the top.

For the moment, he stood at attention at the outer courtyard, among the frontmost of the group facing the stage, trimmed golden locks framing icy blue eyes glaring sharp enough to pierce through enchanted plate armor.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Mcmolly
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Dot



It had been a long day already. Dot was hungry, and sore, and she hadn’t slept properly in weeks, but tonight she was sure that wouldn’t be a problem. It had all been for this, after all, to be in this courtyard and to hear whether or not coming to Grayle had been the ultimate mistake. Part of her wouldn’t mind being denied. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been found out, despite all the effort she’d put into disguising herself. Sure, she probably could have picked a better alias than her literal nickname, but only Adean had ever called her “Dot,” and he was an entire life away, now. If the knights turned her away, she would leave Grayle entirely bereft of coin and dignity, but at least she wouldn’t feel the need to sleep with one eye open.

But, no, she didn’t want to fail. Not really. This dream, soured as it might have been, had still taken nearly her whole life to realize. To simply throw it all away out of fear after everything it had cost her wouldn’t just be cowardly, it would be irredeemably stupid. Besides, there was no point in being disheartened over the future when there was already plenty for her to panic about in the now.

Dot lagged towards the back of the group as they made their way to the courtyard. She was nursing a limp from her opening spar, which wasn’t as bad now but still stung all the way through her shin. God, but it had been a bloody good kick. Damn near perfect; Adean would have scolded her for even trying, but he would have appreciated it anyway. From the neatly balanced dip to the rising twist and the picturesque snap of the kick itself, with just enough power to carry through the strike without torquing herself out of control. Even the landing could have made a dancer in a court of royalty blush. Everything had been just right, a perfect execution, except for the fact that she’d aimed too high and caught the other bastard on the hardened cap of his helmet, rather than his cheek. It had still put him on the dirt, but that wasn’t the point. “Killing blows” or disarms had been the rule for her match, and in the painful shock she’d dropped her waster. He was back up before she realized it, bloodied brow but sword still in his hand, and that was that.

What a way to lose. She’d almost rather the boy knocked her out, at least then she wouldn’t have had to deal with the shameful hobble back to the lineup, or the snickering that followed. “Little fairy boy,” they called her, “get you some twirlin’ ribbons, you can dance for the real knights.”

Next time she'd hit the face, and she wouldn’t drop the damn sword.

"...So... friggin'... hungry..."

Dot glanced over to the scrawny boy hopping up and down for a view of the courtyard. Yeah, she thought, ignoring the groaning of her own stomach. You and me both.

Someone else approached, an absolute giant who Dot at first mistook for one of the adults. Looking closer though, he was certainly an aspirant like the rest of them. He’d lost his bout too, she recalled, though he’d put up a hell of a fight. Now he smelled like food, good, hot food. Dot walked away before she could start drooling.

She found a thick fencepost near the back of the courtyard, pasted over with flyers and notices, and climbed up high enough to see over the crowd. The stage was still empty, but towards the front she spotted the glittering line of noble progeny, and scowled. All smug faces and confidence. No doubt the lot of them would be running things around here before too long. Just like everywhere else.

But Dot didn’t have the energy to be angry. She was too anxious. After all, for many of the aspirants, this was the first day of the rest of their lives.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by ERode
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It was a beautiful day in Grayle. The sun was shining and the sky was clear, with a cool breeze blowing a thin mist up from the resplendent aquamarine surface of the Viridian River, drawing rainbows of refracted light out into the spring air. Blessed by the grace of ancestors whose deeds became mythological, verdant beauty arose from every corner of the alabaster city. It was the season of beginnings, the season of one’s excitement, and the chicks had flown from their roost, familiar flocks guiding fledglings in the art of the flight. Upon King’s Bridge, a youth, cherubic in beauty, lingered upon the cobblestone, his eyes downcast.

A sparrow, a cheeky little thing, pranced upon the palm of his hand, beak darting down to snatch up a crumb or two. Every once in a while, the dapple-feathered chick would look back up at him, rotate its head, then go back to eating. He watched it enjoy itself and wondered of it. What would it be like, to be a bird? Flying freely, unfettered by all but the most base necessities. Castles and towers, the apex of human craft, boasted views that paled in comparison to what a common pest could experienced. What a charmed creature.

He closed his hand before it sensed his intent, fingers lacing over its wings and pinning them against the sparrow’s body. Warmth seeped into his hand, the warmth of a fuzzy little thing struggling to free itself from a heartless giant. Against his palm, he could feel the pinpricks of its talons vibrating with every steadily accelerating heartbeat. And then it was hot. The hot of a drop of blood.

Rossweine smiled, opened his hand, and watched the bird fly off. Shakily, sporadically at first, then with increasing speed and confidence. What remained then, in his hand? Nothing but a drop of blood, staining the crescent-shaped crease that mirrored his thumb. He turned towards the castle, the courtyard, the mass of hopefuls and hopeless that trampled upon it.

Nobles were relaxed. Swordsmen were confident. Commoners, anxious.

Royalty, ambivalent.

At this distance, it was easy enough to tell that the stage was yet empty. Manegold talked about tradition before, of how it was customary to let the children stew a bit. A power play, his older brother had said, back when they still had time to speak regularly. Rossweine didn’t get it then, and didn’t care for it now. Wasting away in the mire of humanity was meaningless, even if those crowds would part ways out of reverence regardless.

The Moonkissed Princeling let out a sigh, wiping the blood off on the marbled railings of the bridge, his steps taken to the tempo of an orchestration he fancied.

It was a beautiful day in Grayle. The sun was shining and the sky was clear. Too precious an experience to expend rushing to and fro. The wind brushed a kiss up to his cheeks from the depths of the waterfall, and a faint smile played upon his lips, his mind painting over the world that his eyes told him of.

He will take his time.

No one was waiting, after all.
Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by webboysurf
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webboysurf Live, Laugh, Love

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"Oi, that's the kid. Good in school... shame about that spar..."

"Wish I was the one to knock him on his arse."


"There's no way they'll let him in, even if he is a noble..."


Nathaniel didn't need training or a magic spell to tell that half the boys standing around him were stealing sideways glances at him. He could feel eyes wash over him, for any number of reasons. The nobles always liked gossip, and the purple-eyed outsider had given them plenty to work with. He had no friends among the upper class, and a single spar had managed to wipe any respect he might have had from the attendants of the various sword schools. Some of them looked on with pity. They could have been in the same boat. But others... they reveled in watching a high-born brat get knocked down a few pegs. But Nathaniel kept a faint smile on his lips while staring in the direction of the stage. As more and more trickled into the courtyard, the whispers grew more intense. And Nathaniel listened to every word he could catch.

Nathaniel's eyes wandered, in desperate need for distraction. It was hard to see anyone of note from near the front of the pack. His fellow nobles were rather unremarkable. Their forms were lacking, and maneuvers designed to deliver a killing blow as quickly as possible so they wouldn't have to think or react. Of course, some had enough training and motivation to potentially make the cut. Or, more accurately... some were just born special. Nathaniel's father had told the boy to keep an eye on the Brendorn child. The blonde-haired prodigy was well-skilled, from what he saw so far. However, Nathaniel couldn't help but let his smile falter as his eyes met their piercing gaze. He recognized that determination, but couldn't help but notice the hostility that was mixed in. A dangerous combination, for sure. But an even greater opportunity for competition, surely.

His eyes drifted towards those at the back of the gathering, on the fringe. He couldn’t make out any but the tallest. The tallest, it seemed, was a rather large man near the back. He seemed to be talking to someone he couldn’t quite make out. He vaguely recalled the figure only because of his size and competence in his sparring match. With some attention to form and technique, and a lot of power and weight behind swings, the imposing figure would make a fine combatant. Nathaniel’s eyes then narrowed in on another figure sitting up on a fencepost. His eyes narrowed as he recalled the figure and the rumors that had already begun swirling around them. An Alexandrian by the name of Dotl. Ambidextrous, quick, and graceful: Nathaniel couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. They didn’t quite stick the maneuver, and Nathaniel immediately recognized the painful misstep Dot made before the kick even landed. Situational awareness was a difficult skill to master. Nathaniel should know, of all people.

He focused his eyes back on the empty stage, lost in the memories of his introductory spar. He didn’t feel nervous, by any stretch of the imagination. He saw some of the knights in the crowd leaning in to pay attention. Perhaps they knew who his father was, or perhaps his own reputation preceded him. Either way, Nathaniel knew he had an opportunity to show what he was capable of. He had the opportunity to tear apart his competitor’s technique, and show that he knew what he was doing. After all, the poor kid he was facing could barely hold the sword in any proper manner. The grip was too loose, the stance too rigid. If he didn’t know any better, Nathaniel’s best guess was the poor kid hadn’t properly held a sword before that day. It was his moment to shine.

But… he didn’t shine or prove himself. Nathaniel got into a defensive stance, raising his weapon and widening his stance to allow for a quick sidestep and parry. The next second was a blur, primarily because he found himself unable to see. His eyes stung with an intense pain the boy hadn’t known before. This was immediately followed by a quick strike on the head, followed by loud footsteps before the adversary had tackled him to the ground. Nathaniel lost the grip on his sword in the sudden onslaught, and was still rubbing what turned out to be sand from his eyes when it was announced that he had lost. Nathaniel Lothwren had been bested by a commoner. And while any defeat always stung, what still boiled his blood at this assembly was the lack of respect. The tactics were beyond underhanded… they were barbaric. What kind of knight throws sand in their opponent’s face? What kind of knight throws their sword at an enemy so they are left defenseless? What kind of monster fights like that? Well, Nathaniel knew. The blonde-haired baker boy had dishonored Nathaniel and his family, and he wasn’t going to stand for it. Through gritted teeth hidden by a false smile, he whispered their name under his breath.

”Julian Baker…”
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Zeroth
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K A I

The Sauvage Stray



Of all the boys gathered on the King's Bridge, one seemed completely unfazed by their long wait to file into the courtyard. Perhaps at the risk of drawing the adult's ire, he wasn't even waiting in the crowd, or on the bridge itself. No, Kaiser--or Kai--Underwall currently had his ankles locked around the bottom railing on one side of the bridge. The rest of him hung down, and his arms stretched even further...but, unfortunately, it seemed he was still several feet short of reaching the water. And the delicious, fresh fish beneath it. With one more grunt of exertion, he failed to even brush his fingertips against the water, and sighed. The teen performed a hanging situp as easily as others might turn their heads, reached up past his toes with a flexibility any contortionist would envy, and grabbed onto the top railing. He unhooked his feet, then did a complete pullup with a push-through before vaulting himself back onto the bridge proper...although, he was still standing along the side-rails in a balanced crouch, like some oversized cat. He looked around the crowd, to see if anything had changed during the time he'd been attempting to find a snack.

@FeyblueSomeone else needed a snack too, if that rumbling was any indication. If Kai had actually caught anything, he would've been willing to share with the short blonde currently jumping up and down. @ZombehsBut he wasn't sure he could have caught enough, at least not with just two hands, to feed the bigger fellow who appeared behind the blonde. That guy was even bigger than the kid Kai had to fight to get this far--but the bluette could tell at a glance, he wouldn't be able to whimsically toss his sword aside and wrestle that one to the ground like he had his tubby opponent in the qualifiers. Now that he thought about it, he wondered if the other boys still talked about him the way they had before that fight?

"'Underwall?' As in, he was found...literally under the Walls?"

"That's what they say. Supposedly an old knight found him in the Wild. Doesn't make any sense to me--even if somebody dumped a baby off the End of the World, how would he ever survive?"

"What kind of sword is that? Was he raised by animals? Does he even have an education?"


These questions and many more had rippled around Kai wherever he went, on the day he tested for enrollment. Many didn't realize that he could hear them--but even if they had, the complete lack of reaction put them off as if he'd turned to stare right at them. Though some knew the name of Sir Kyner Sauvage--the man was a former House Champion in his own days on the training yard, after all, and hadn't done too badly for himself in all his years as a knight--they also knew there was no way this boy could be related. His blue hair, delicate face, and general build had nothing at all in common with his adoptive family. Nor did he seem to match the appearance or air of any renown noble that might be trying to hide him as an illegitimate son. The mystery of the unknown child had conceived both loathing--perhaps born of trepidation--and curiosity.

But, most of them past his immediate surroundings weren't paying attention to him now. Most were entirely focused on where they were going, towards that big courtyard, though foot traffic had come to a halt. Up ahead, just over the bridge and at the back of the courtyard, he saw another kid doing the same thing he was and climbing on top of a post. Not one to be outdone, Kai stood up to his full height right there on the railing--he only wobbled once before, like a tightrope walker, his balance held him impeccably still. He put one hand over his brow to defend against those rainbows reflecting off the water, and focused his eyes. It looked like there was a stage up there. Was that where they were supposed to be?

Again he looked at the throng still milling around on the bridge, then at the figure up ahead standing on the post. With a nod and a smile to himself, the blue haired boy took off--his footsteps made the metal rails rattle and clank all the way down their lengths as he ran past several others. He never missed a step, despite picking up speed. When he reached the end of the bridge, he actually leaped right over some boys' heads, turning a full somersault--@Mcmollyand then landed on a post on the opposite side of the crowd from the figure he'd seen afar.

The figure looked like they were thinking deeply about something, so Kai furrowed his brow too, and crossed his arms. One leg folded into the crook of his knee, he looked entirely at ease as he too now balanced above the group for a bird's eye view.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by pkken
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Zenshin Ferros


There was a spotlight surely on Zen that morning, an unpleasant one at that. As he made his way towards the castle he could feel the scorn of the other knights as they looked upon him. The scoffing and snickering, some even questioning why did he even bother showing back up after the pitiful show he put on. Though the treatment he received from the commoners stung much worse as they seemed to look right through him as though he was nothing, continuing on with their day as if he didn't exist.

His 'spar' if you want to even call it that, was a series of unfortunate events beginning with the use of magic being banned which Zen considered his biggest strength, the element of surprise, and his ace in the hole. He had banked everything on his unique talent in order to get himself into the Knights of Grayle, what a disaster it turned out to be. This was his first time wielding a sword and it showed from his stance to his demeanor with the blade in his hand. His opponent was a noble who decided make fun out of the match and display how big the gap in skill was for all to see. Taunting the kid from Valefor as he sidestep and parry all of his attacks before sweeping the boy off his feet in a single motion, sending the brown haired boy barreling into the dirt and leaving a nice parting gift on Zen's cheek as he claimed checkmate. To add insult to injury, once the match was over the noble kid extended his arm towards Zenshin, acting as though he was going to assist in helping him off the floor before retracting his hand and scoffing in his face.

"Worthless commoner"

Thoughts flooded the boys head the more he pondered on the subject as he shuffled his feet over the bridge, his head slinked to the height of his shoulders as he stared at the gravel road. Perhaps coming here was a big mistake? He way in over his head, just look at who he had to compete with! The first person that came to the boys mind was Liese Victoire, just the thought of what might have happened if he had to go up against that guy in the spar sent a chill down the boys spine. Lets just be happy that we made it out with nicely connected bones. Besides they'd never put someone like me against someone like him right. The boy said letting out a deep exhale as he brushed off the thought, the knights of Grayle had a status to uphold. They wouldn't knowingly send a commoner boy let alone a foreigner to his own demise.

As Zenshin arrived to the area where all the other candidates had been waiting, the feeling of disdain seemed to only magnify. Fearful of the watchful eyes that were upon him Zen threw on the hood of his cloak sheepishly as he pushed his way through the large amount of teens amassed at the castle thought this proved more difficult then he had thought. Many people were eager to get a front row seat or at least as close to the front as possible. Zen simply wished to end up in a area where people wouldn't notice him quite as easily, if that was the front then so be it. Quickly Zen begin to push his way through to the front, finding a bit of early success and breaking through the outer layer.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Feyblue
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First Meeting



Hop. Just a little higher. Hop. No, still not enough. Hop. Almost made it that time! Hop. Okay come on, this was getting silly. Hop. There! And the stage was... still empty! Or at least, she was pretty sure it was. Maybe one more just to check? Hop. Yup, still empty.

Rumble.

Her stomach was still empty too! Just in case she had somehow managed to forget that unpleasant fact. So empty, in fact, that she was starting to imagine things. Things like the smell of a delicious, honey-glazed slice of oven-roasted ham, or the crunching sound of the crisp outer crust of a loaf of bread so freshly baked it was still warm and steaming... Or a sudden darkness spreading over her as if a cloud had just covered the sun? No, wait, scratch that, that part was real, which meant the other bit was... maybe also real? She hoped it was real. She could really use a snack to tide over her insatiable appetite, at least until they could get to the mess hall. Assuming she had made the cut, anyway... Which she definitely had. The mere notion that she could be worried about something like that was ridiculous! After all, it wasn't as if she'd literally starve in the streets if they didn't hurry up and announce her acceptance already.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH.

Okay, silent internal screaming and general hysteria probably wasn't productive to her current situation, so it was better to distract herself with something interesting, like the prospect of a mouthwateringly delectable sandwich or whatever tree had suddenly decided to take root behind her. The blonde took a deep breath, and turned around to investigate. Much to her surprise, what she found there was... a broad-shouldered, tan skinned body, with burly arms poking out from underneath an oft-mended tunic that no doubt concealed a chiseled chest.

...Okay. She had to admit, she appreciated the sudden generosity of whatever Star had taken notice of her sorry plight, but unfortunately, that wasn't really the type of snack she'd been hoping for.

Oh, right, now really wasn't the time to be... uh... admiring the scenery. Right, if she started staring, he'd think she was weird! She was a totally normal boy right now, not some... weirdo who stared at muscles. That would have been something a non-manly man who had no muscles would do! Or worse, something a girl would do while pretending to be a non-manly man who had no muscles! Which she definitely wasn't, by the way! She'd been training really hard for... at least a week! She definitely had some beef on her. Somewhere.

Still, this guy was supposed to be around her age, right? He was huge! Enormous! Monolithic! Gargantuan! He looked like he could have broken her dad in two with his bare hands! What did you even have to eat to get that large?! Was the secret in that sandwich he was carrying? She'd have to try some. For scientific purposes.

Thankfully, Julian's two working braincells were working overtime today, and so this entire deranged tangent sped through her otherwise airy head with astonishing alacrity, leaving her just enough time to direct her gaze up... and up... and up... until she finally reached the young man's face... which stared impassively back down at her. She managed an awkward grin -- the sort of expression that says "Um, can I help you?" when you're too flabbergasted to speak at all.

...Speaking of... well, speaking, he had said something, hadn't he? And the more she managed to process what, exactly, he had said, the more she realized that his offer contained within it an assumption that was highly insulting! She folded her arms with a very authoritative -- or, at least, she thought it was pretty decisive -- "Hmph!" and spread her feet apart into what could charitably be called a "power stance," if only her body were bulky enough that widening her posture made any difference whatsoever.

"D-Don't be ridiculous! Of course I could go to the front aaaaaaany time I wanted! I just thought it would be better to stay all the way back here, where it's... um... not so crowded. But not because I'm worried I'd get trampled or anything! Because I wouldn't!"

It was around this time that Julian's third braincell clocked back in, and realized that maybe -- just maybe -- she hadn't managed to give the most convincing performance. Her smug expression and bold posture seemed to twitch a little, and a certain red hue began to appear around the tips of her ears. She cleared her throat as if to continue, then realized she really had no way to salvage this one. So she cleared it again. And again. Threw in a cough for good measure.

...Y'know, actually, getting trampled didn't sound so bad right--

The ear-piercing keen of a trumpet shattered the world's most awkward silence and delivered Julian from her internal hell. The sound of heavy boots echoed upon the wooden planks of the stage, and four imposing figures clad respectively in red, white, black, and gold emerged before the crowd, taking their seats upon four raised benches atop the dais.

The Knight-Commanders were present. The admissions ceremony had begun.
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Signar Wayland

Well that couldn't be too comfortable. If Signar had noticed the short pause after Julian had turned around, he made no comment of it. That was the blonde's name right? His match had been memorable enough, and pretty entertaining all things considered. A poor showing for his redheaded opponent, but sometimes people just needed a bit of a reality check.

Back to the present though. He had taken care not to invade the other boy's personal space, but Signar took another step back, so Julian no longer needed to crane his head upwards. Raising an eyebrow as Julian's posture quickly closed off, he raised his sandwich up and took another bite. He didn't look like he was another noble given the clothes on his back, but things did seem a bit confrontational. Best he had his mouth full for a bit so he didn't blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

He totally wasn't trying to rub the rather delicious breakfast in Julian's face. He couldn't have even heard the poor blonde's stomach rumbling with all the other noise around them! So it was absolutely also not intentional when he licked his thumb as a bit of the glaze ran out.

Having his mouth full did stop Signar from snorting in amusement, but the shake of his shoulders and slight curl of his lips were quite obvious signs. Maybe Julian was a bit too embarrassed to catch on though, and he quickly swallowed again to reply. "Jumping around in the middle of a crowd would be pretty hard and bothersome," he agreed with a nod as he played along with the blonde's story.

Before he actually introduce himself though, Signar's attention was similarly drawn up towards the stage. He rubbed one of his ears as the trumpet's echo faded away slowly, and ended up whistling as he took in the different outfits worn by each of the Commanders. Some had worn their armor, while others were dressed in what he assumed were their ceremonial attire. It was all of fancy make and material though, that much was easy to see even from a distance.

Taking another bite, Signar settled in for what he expected to be a rather long ceremony.
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K A I

Wandering Eyes



From up here, Kai not only had a good view of the stage, but all the students gathered beneath it. While waiting, he scanned the crowd with curious eyes and used his hand as a visor against the sun. That other person who had climbed up on a post was scowling. Their dark, flowing cloak made it hard to gauge their build, but they didn't seem quite so tall or broad as many other figures here. Kai felt like he wasn't the largest person around either, but he wasn't scowling. So why were they? Had something displeased them? He thought they were deep in thought earlier...but deep in thought about what? Were they just worried about what would happen?

There was someone else pushing through the crowd as well, making their way towards the front. This was a bronzed young man with dark hair, though Kai only saw a few wisps of it beneath that cloak and couldn't make out much about the youth's face from here. Without any way to see their expression, he instead looked at their body language. The head was low, almost the same level as the shoulders, and they moved between people and away from eyes like they didn't want to be seen. To Kai, they seemed like nervous prey evading the notice of predators around them. Was that a sign of this person's weakness, or the danger presented by others in the crowd? Kai's ponytail flicked back and forth as he scanned those gathered once more. There were certainly some here who were dangerous, in different ways...

A brown haired teen, whose equipment seemed a little better managed than most, stood out next to Kai's roving eye. Though he couldn't hear the voices from here, Kai could tell by the movement of others near the boy that they were probably talking about him--the way they tilted their heads when they looked back at each other, or gestured slightly with their hands, made that clear. And the brunette's stance was tense...were his fists clenched at his sides? There was definitely tension in his neck and shoulders, like he had clenched his jaw or something. Definitely aggression there, and from his size it was clear he was physically fit.

That other blonde, near the front of the crowd, was another dangerous one for sure. They stood at sharp attention, fidgeting only once to fix their cuffs, and though Kai could only see the back of their head from here he could tell they were intensely focused on that stage. Something about them seemed similar to someone else...ah, that person he had seen just a moment ago! He turned his attention back to the bridge. He could still see that tall figure, and every so often he thought he saw the bobbing blonde head. That was the one who seemed similar to the one in front...but at the same time, not quite. What was the tall figure doing to them? Were they arguing? He thought he caught a whiff of food. He had heard someone's stomach growl back there, before he ran all this way--so maybe they were arguing over food? Why would anyone do that? The smaller one could just wait for the larger to finish, and scavenge the rest, or go get their own. To fight when it wasn't necessary was a waste of energy a hunter couldn't get back.

The ear-piercing keen of a trumpet shattered the awkward silence. The sound of heavy boots echoed upon the wooden planks of the stage, and four imposing figures clad respectively in red, white, black, and gold emerged before the crowd, taking their seats upon four raised benches atop the dais. Kai crouched down on his post out of instinct--suddenly the idea of being up where those four could see him seemed unwise. Legs bent and palms down on the top of the fence like a frog, however, he still stuck out amongst the group. Again, his braid twitched--this time going straight down the back of his neck and shivering, like it too didn't want to be seen.

A raven-haired man with an expression that seemed...sure. As if everything were going to plan. Another man with a powerful stance and fierce expression, yet seemed to be trying too hard--especially given those glances he threw at the black-haired one. An old man, whose mouth quirked down at the edges as he surveyed the children before him--he seemed unsatisfied, if Kai had to put a word to it. And then, a man with piercing-green eyes and cornsilk golden hair. Kai gulped. That one was dangerous. And both he and the raven-haired man seemed to be looking at specific kids in the crowd--when they turned on Kai, the boy bristled and almost raised his hackles, but thought better of drawing attention to himself. Their gaze went past him soon enough...

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The Selection Ceremony



Thankfully, the blonde only had a few moments to experience a bizarre mix of overwhelming gluttonous envy and the crushing weight of embarrassment at her own inability to give a convincing excuse, as, a few moments later, a man clad in the mixed heraldry of all four Knight-Commanders surmounted the platform, unrolling a large scroll and beginning to read from it.

For such an important day in the lives of the assembled youths in the courtyard, the contents of the herald's speech were... actually rather bland. To be sure, there was a great deal of flowery, overly loquacious prevarication about the great tradition of which they would soon be a part, the glorious 500 years of chivalric history that had built the very foundations of Grayle, and how each and every one of them would be expected to give their best for king and country both, to truly earn the honors of which they had been deemed worthy. It was a little bit calming, actually, Julian noted with some slight, wry amusement. The herald hadn't even bothered to mention that not everyone among them would get a shot at knighthood, and was just rambling on as if they'd already all made the cut. She had heard that getting in as a cadet was easy, but even so, she'd been... well, maybe a little worried. It would have been stranger if she wasn't, right? But somehow, even with the overwhelming amount of expectation that the speaker was trying to lay as a burden upon their small shoulders, she suddenly felt her stress evaporating, the subject of her worries seeming further and further away.

...At least, until the herald finished his preamble, and launched right into announcing the names of the accepted students. He started with the Southern House, and as he spoke, a haughty-looking man with fiery red hair stood up from the four seated at the top of the dais. When the herald had concluded, he gave a few brief instructions ordering them to their barracks, and the red-haired man gave a speech of his own -- one which was far less verbose, but a great deal more pointed, as he hammered in again and again that those he had chosen had been selected for their strength, and that it would be wise for them not to disappoint him.

Julian couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief that her name -- or, well, her alias -- hadn't been among this first group. Though, this relief slowly turned to concern when she realized it wasn't among the second group either -- or even the third -- as both Prince Manegold and the elderly head of the Northern House gave some speeches of their own to their candidates before ushering them away as well.

By the time the herald reached the fourth house, the courtyard had cleared a great deal, and the throng that had once packed it to the brim had thinned out enough that she could actually make out the individual faces and appearances of... well, just about everybody left, actually. And from what she could tell from her admittedly unfortunate vantage point, most of them... honestly looked pretty drab. There were a few intense or well-to-do looking youths scattered here and there, but most of the remaining candidates seemed not only like commoners, but like commoners of pretty average height and build.

...Well, except the small mountain hanging around next to her, still crunching down the last bits of his sandwich, but he definitely seemed out of place now that almost everybody else in the crowd wasn't just an inch or two shorter than him, but only came up to his shoulders at most.

...There was a fourth house still left, right? These weren't just all the failures who hadn't made the cut? She was going to get in, right? The herald had acted like it was guaranteed, but suddenly, she wasn't so sure again...

The reading continued. The names were all shorter now. Most didn't even have surnames, and those that did were just a few syllables. The air was growing tense as those who were called stepped forward, thinning the already sparse assembly until there were just a few dozen people left loitering about. Squad after squad was filled, until, with a crushing finality, the herald seemed to reach the end of the scroll. "And, finally, the thirteenth squadron!" He announced loudly, sending a shiver up Julian's spine. All her hopes were resting on this moment -- if her name wasn't here, then...

"This squadron will be headed by His Highness, Prince Rossweine Lupus Grayle! His second seat shall be Nathaniel Lothwren, and his third... Kaiser Underwall, of House Sauvage."

Well, those names all sounded important. A prince... was there even such a person left among this shabby crowd? If there really was, then the bar for entry just got a lot higher. Had she really failed, then? Thinking about it logically, there wasn't any way that somebody like her would be chosen to serve under royalty... Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and a chill ran up her spine. She raised a small, pale hand and fidgeted uneasily with her collar, suddenly feeling choked even by the loose-fitting hem of her tunic. No, it wasn't that she was choking, but rather that she had just forgotten to breathe. What now? What was she going to do? She couldn't go back, but if the knights wouldn't take her... then who would? Someone like her...

"Further rankings will be decided based on performance in training. The remaining members of the squad shall be..."

Please, somehow... she wouldn't ask for anything else, if only he'd read her name!

"Signar Wayland!"

The towering youth beside her stepped forward, and she felt herself wither a little more inside.

"Zenshin Ferros!"

It wasn't her.

"Dot Auferrum!"

It wasn't her!

"Liese Victoire Brendorn!"

The herald stopped for a moment, and so did Julian's heart in her chest. And then...

"Julian Baker!"

It was her. The life she'd felt creeping from her rushed back in a tide of emotion, and before she knew it, she was practically running forward to join the rest whose names had been called, mentally thanking whatever Star might be listening for its beneficence.

As she reached the now-assembled members of the newly minted Eastern House, she took note as the final of the four men upon the dais rose up, his long, dark hair trailing behind him as he approached the front of the stage.

"That will be all," he said, dismissing the herald, who nodded, rolled up the scroll, and departed. Not a word was spared for the remainder among the hopefuls, who quietly began to gather their things and trudge away. Julian couldn't help but look back at the fate from which she herself had only narrowly escaped... but her attention was transfixed by the man upon the stage a moment later.

"I have never had a particularly fine way with words... but I think we have all heard more than enough speeches today already, so I will keep this brief. Grayle finds itself in need, and those of you who stand before me now have answered the call to defend it. Your dedication up to this point has been admirable... for citizens. But as of now, you are no longer merely citizens, but the soldiers who will be expected not just to fight for your country, but potentially even to lead its armies into battle. The task before you is a daunting one, and dedication alone will not be sufficient to see it through. In light of that, I will leave you with a question. What is it that you can do for Grayle? Think long and hard on that in the days to come... and when you find an answer, see it through."

In a matter of seconds, their commander's speech had finished, and he turned to go, before glancing back one final time.

"Report to the Eastern Barracks. Your instructors will be waiting there to assign you your quarters, and you'll also have opportunities to meet with your squadmates. I would encourage you to use this time to familiarize yourself with both your accommodations and your brothers-in-arms, as tonight will be the last night of your old lives. Your training begins at dawn tomorrow. Dismissed!"

Barking back these curt remarks, the bespectacled man turned and strode away, his long mane of hair and flowing cloak trailing behind him as he disappeared from view. The cadets looked around, unsure of themselves, but moments later began to disperse, making their way in a disorderly procession out of the courtyard and around the perimeter of the palace's outer wall, towards the barracks on the eastern side of the castle grounds.

Julian, for her part, took one final look at the now empty courtyard, which suddenly seemed so much larger than it had before. The towering walls, the vast empty space, and the stage with its four seats, all devoid of their occupants. The sun was still high in the sky, but the shadows cast by the spires of the palace were long and dark, and made her feel tiny by comparison -- even moreso than she usually felt, that is. This place was going to be her new home, then... for how long? It made her head spin just to think about it, and a mix of relief and lingering worry swirled within her. Was this... really going to be alright?

...Well, fretting about things that had already happened wouldn't help any, and it wasn't her style to begin with. For now... their commander had seemed very terse and a bit intimidating, but the advice he had given was sound. For now, she should probably look for her squadmates...

Come to think of it, hadn't that huge guy stepped up just before she had? That meant they were going to be in the same group! And... well, he had seemed nice enough given that he hadn't laughed at her rather pathetic display earlier, so... maybe she'd just start by officially meeting him, then? That seemed safe enough. And given that even she could see his head sticking up over the rest of the crowd, it wasn't like he'd be hard to find. So, since they both seemed to be pretty close to the back of the group, she slipped over towards him as best she could without getting trampled underfoot by the other trainees, before popping up by his side once again.

...It was around this point that she realized that she wasn't really sure how exactly you were supposed to greet someone. This wasn't even really a problem that stemmed from her pretending to be a boy, but rather just a sign that the blonde had a profound lack of social experience. Maybe something like... "I'll be in your care?" No, that was far too passive and formal, and even an idiot like her could tell that a baker's son would have no need of that kind of etiquette. Then, maybe "Good to be working with you!" But then again, that seemed a little overly friendly...

It was around this point that her mouth stopped caring about her indecisive brain, and before she knew it, she had apparently already given her greeting.

"Uh... hi. So... I guess we're some kinda team now, huh?"
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Signar Wayland

Thankfully he had something to keep himself occupied as the herald's long winded speech just seemed to drag on and on. Even listening to his various teachers drone on had been a bit less tedious than this since their lectures actually contained bits and bobs of knowledge and theory. Not to mention how it seemed rather unwarranted given the selections hadn't even been made yet. Forcing them to stand and listen without even knowing if they were going to be chosen in the end? Bit cruel to drag things out for the nervous ones among them in his opinion, but he was terrible unqualified to comment on their glorious traditions and historied ways. He bit into his sandwich and slowly savored the bite, even if it had cooled by now, as he waited for the main point of this gathering.

Oh good, he was almost out of his little distraction. Signar's eyes opened a bit wider as the exposition finally came to an end and names were called out instead. Granted, he held no expectation that he wouldn't be relegated to one of the last few names called out. The more important ones usually came first, and that seemed to be exactly the case if the clothes of those marching up with heads held high were any indication. He popped away the last bite of his sandwich, brushed off his hands, and settled in to wait some more.

Unperturbed even as the numbers of hopefuls slowly dwindled around him, Signar cast his attention around the courtyard and raised an eyebrow. Two figures perched themselves atop fence posts, opposite of one another, as if they were gargoyles overlooking the space. A bit odd, but maybe that was one of the reasons why they were still here with the rest of them. With the finality of this last squad announced, Signar sighed audibly and turned his attention back towards the herald. It would be a shame to fail his entrance even after he had been graced with a generous opponent, but he would have to accept the matter.

The status of those in command of the squad was more than a bit odd, but he supposed even the most noble of houses had an odd duckling here and there. Certainly, the way the blue-haired boy had descended from his perch when called had been more wild than noble. Taking a deep breath as his name was called, Signar couldn't deny that he felt a bit of relief. It was good to know that his effort had not been wasted. Though he marched towards the podium once his name was called, he didn't just simply abandon the blonde after striking up a conversation with her. "Breathe." His voice was far softer now, just barely audible, and his hand clapped down firmly on Julain's shoulder. A firm, confident squeeze and then he stepped past him. Maybe it was unwarranted and unwelcomed from someone who had been accepted to someone who was still dangling on the edge. The squad's second had gotten quite the thrashing from the pint-sized blonde though, and didn't that at least warrant a chance?

It seemed it did. Biting down a yawn as no more names were announced, Signar settled for a relieved sigh that the ceremony was finally coming to an end. Their Commander, whose name he should probably learn before the day was over, was right in that he had heard too many speeches today. Even his own, short as it was, nearly passed in one ear and out the other. He did manage to keep a hold on the question though, and he supposed it was a good one as any. The louder instructions did a good job of ringing in his head for a bit as Signar nodded to himself and let out another sigh.

"Whew... Gods, we're probably going to have to put up with worse on ceremony, won't we?" Signar thought aloud to no one in particular as he threw his hands up and felt something pop in quite the satisfying way. He was a bit distracted that the mop of blonde hair didn't catch his attention immediately, and he could hardly be blamed with all the other trainees milling about around him. It was only natural that they'd flow around him instead of trying to jostle him out of the way. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and looked towards the sky, gauging the sun's position to check just how much ti-

He looked down at the familiar voice, and didn't hesitate to grin as he raised a fist towards Julian before he realized that he probably wasn't familiar with the gesture. He let his hand fall with a quick shrug before he nodded. "Yeah, congrats to the both of us. Now we'll just have to stick around, eh? You can call me Signar or Sig if you want."
Hidden 3 yrs ago 3 yrs ago Post by Izurich
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--The 13th Squadron of the Eastern House--


@Mcmolly

Not a moment too soon, the four Knight-Commanders arrived, Ser Gilbert Tervellan of the Eastern House, Prince Manegold Aelious Grayle of the Western House, Ser Rubeus Valentin of the Southern House, and Ser Caius Ward of the Northern House; all accomplished figures in their own right. As far as Liese was concerned, at the very least, these men deserved their current positions and all the privileges and responsibilities carried within.

The Brendorn's rightful heir kept standing at attention, one of the few who actually listened to what the Heralds had to say for once he achieved his life's goals, he'd be tearing the government of this rotten kingdom from the ground up, dismantle the old corrupt institutions and rebuild them anew. One of the many things he'd do was to see if this knighthood acceptance speech needed amendments. Soon enough, the herald concluded the formalities and began announcing the names of those who qualified one by one.

All throughout the roll call, Liese never let his attention wander. He wasn't selected for the Southern, Western, nor Northern house either, so it must be the Eastern House then. No, he wasn't superstitious enough to think that just because his name just so happened to be listed toward the tail-end of the scroll meant something more than pure coincidence. In fact, it flattered him that he'd be among those selected based on their performance, not his heritage, not his gender, but skills, good.

But of course.

Liese wasn't surprised that he'd make the cut, twas' a foregone conclusion given his skills and talents; as much as these patriarchal stooges wished otherwise, even they wouldn't pass up the chance of having an Absolute as one of their own. Therefore, it was a reasonable presumption that Knight-Commander Tervellan pulled some strings to be able to have a royal prince and - not one, but two - Aurists, and an Absolute in the same squadron. However, on the other hand, he wasn't surprised either that despite all of his aptitude for knighthood, he wasn't chosen as one of the squad leaders.

Rossweine was a given since the slothful brat is royalty, undeservingly so, but the rest of the three? Aurists they might be, but one was a supposedly skilled fighter yet blundered his debut spar against a mere scrawny commoner, falling for an underhanded trick as simple as a pocket sand. What? Did he expect commoners to fight 'honorably'? Did he expect that when melee began in the battlefield that everyone would fight with tact and decorum in a clash of life and death? Naive fool. The other, the blue-haired one, did Liese really need to say more? Some wildling orphan that Ser Kyner Sauvage found in the woods, bereft of even basic human decency, manners worse than even the most unwashed peasant, to think the gods wasted the gift of Aura on this simpleton. And last but not least, all three of them were boys. In fact, Liese wouldn't be surprised if him not having the same sex as them was enough of a reason by itself to bar him from leadership.

What else is new? The female-sexed boy rolled his eyes, mentally and physically.

Ser Tervellan then gave a concise welcome speech. That's right, they were all soldiers now, the elite of the elites, and those who couldn't shape up to be among the best should stand down lest they dilute the ranks. In the battlefield, sentiments meant nothing, having dedication and willpower yet failing to give concrete results also meant nothing. Although the knighthood still had obvious sentimental biases in its roots, Liese could appreciate that it strove to be as meritocratic as possible. What is it I can do for Grayle? He'd scrub off all of the taint of primogeniture and nepotism from this kingdom, starting from the Sentinel Knights.

Just as Ser Trevellan was a commoner, yet impressed the Marshal enough to be elevated to Knight-Commander position. The nobles hate him, but of course they would, an upstart threatening to disrupt their nepotistic regime, this man had done something right, he had proven that being born noble and male wasn’t the be all end all path to power.

Now then, before he'd depart for the Eastern Barracks, Liese noticed a certain name among those assigned in the 13th Squadron, the one who sparked quite the gossip amongst the Lord Council, an exile from Alexandria, apparently an illegitimate daughter of her mother, sired by someone from Grayle, a stain on royal honor. Furthermore, out of all the 'he's' here, she was notable to Liese for obvious reasons.

With his hands crisply clasped behind his back, he strode over to Dot, steps confident and measured, approaching her from the front, making his presence clear. "Lady Auferrum," Liese greeted her, extending a right hand for a shake, "I am Liese Victoire of House Brendorn, pleased to meet you." Whether Dot took it or not, the taller blue-eyed blonde of the squad would continue, "I admire your bravery in joining the knighthood despite your circumstances. I will not lie to you by saying that the path ahead won't be difficult, but as your squadmate, I will do all in my power to make sure that we succeed together. Show these fat, indolent so-called highborns just how little do they worth."
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Dot

Dot watched their numbers dwindle and began to worry. Even when so many had gone that she no longer needed the post to see the stage, she found herself anchored there, afraid that moving might be perceived as some kind of slight against the gods, and they would strike her name from the list, and then maybe smite her for good measure. She trilled her fingers on the wood in time to a song she couldn’t even hear in her own head over the pounding of her heart.

However, when she heard the prince’s name, Rossweine Lupus Grayle, it all seemed to quiet. Her eyes found him easily, he looked almost exactly like she’d expected royalty to look, right down to the demeanor. Down to the wire as they all were, yet he seemed so calm, picturesque, like the wind itself didn’t dare bother him.

Anger sparked within her, so suddenly that it took her by surprise. It caught kindling she didn’t know was there, and began to burn voraciously. Her lips pursed until she was chewing at them. Her fingers had stopped trilling, she was gripping the post so tightly now her knuckles were whitening. If looks could be weapons, she would have been hanged for an attempt on the prince’s life.

“Zenshin Ferros!”

Dot jolted, having only really caught the last name and nearly mistaking it for her own. Just as she was about to climb down, a beanpole of a boy stepped forward, and she realized her mistake. Her burgeoning fury was snuffed, and in its ashes she wilted. Perhaps she would be sleeping soundly alone after all—

“Dot Auferrum!”

Cruel, gods. Very cruel. This time Dot nearly fell off the post, only managing to catch herself an inch from even further humiliation. As she joined the rest of thirteenth squadron, a sort of fog descended upon her. That was it, she had made it after all. She wasn’t some wandering vagrant anymore, or a listless exile. She was a knight of Grayle—in training, anyway. It was as the man said: the kingdom needed them, and they were called to defend it.

Dot found it hard to draw any real sense of patriotism from that duty, but then again, this whole thing probably counted as treason. No going back to Alexandria now. She tried to let that feel like a good thing, and put Adean out of her thoughts, but that just made her feel guilty. So instead she directed her thoughts to their mentor’s parting question. As her squadmates began shuffling off for the eastern barracks, she followed, slowed less by her limp and more by her inability to find and answer.

What could she do for Grayle? All of the things that came to mind made her feel ill.

“Lady Auferrum.”

Despite the fact that the blonde boy had walked right up to her, Dot felt like she’d been smacked on the back of her head with a pole. Reflex screamed at her to clap a hand over his mouth, but she was too dumbstruck to manage even a quiet 'ShhHHH!' She just stood there as Liese Victoire of House Brendorn introduced himself, petrified, eyes flicking around in case anyone had heard the boy casually out her to the world. Well, halfway, at least. In all fairness, she had banked perhaps too heavily on the people of Grayle being as oblivious to foreign nobility as she was.

But Liese was different, like Rossweine. Both reeked of nobility, but where the prince had breezy ethereality, Liese was practically oozing with proud ambition. That alone made Dot’s teeth itch. She stared at the outstretched hand, and a bitter part of her wanted to refuse it, refuse the whole introduction altogether. But that wasn’t nice—Dot wasn’t the most experienced socialite but even she knew that much—and more important than that, it wasn’t fair. Liese might have been a noble, but he was being nice, or trying. And he seemed genuine, or at least she thought so. Assuming the best of others’ intentions had never done her well before, but she found her convictions harder to stick to when faced with friendliness.

She did want friends.

Dot shook Liese’s hand and mustered up a smile, though she couldn’t quite wipe the panic from her face. “Wow. I was kinda worried we’d be lacking enthusiasm, what with us being the last picks and all, but it sounds like you already know the road ahead of you. If your match is anything to go by, you seem pretty prepared for it at least. It's nice to meet you too.” Before they could continue on with the group, Dot stayed them a little longer, dropping her voice to a hush. “Ah, but could you…uhm…I probably could have gone about disguising myself better, but as long as it lasts could you just call me Dot? I’d really rather people didn’t treat me any different, not over silly stuff. For now I’m just, ah, one of the boys, you know?”


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The murmuring died down as four well-dressed knights took the stage. The time had finally come. Nathaniel straightened his back and puffed up his chest, his eyes locked on the herald at the podium. He knew well what to expect, but he couldn't help but perk up at the formalities. The speeches and announcements were something Nathaniel had looked forward to for some time. But as individuals were called from among the houses, Nathaniel turned his gaze towards the few names he did recognize. Accomplished nobles and some of the more standout performances in the spars were getting swallowed up in the Southern, Western, and Northern houses. His eyes gravitated up towards the single Knight-Commander left, leader of the Eastern House, and Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. The majority of those left were unremarkable at best. Of course, there were the few left that Nathaniel had heard spoken about through the grapevine. He noticed the intense blond Marquis child still present. Nathaniel was surprised. His money was one of the other houses would have snatched the child up quickly. Clearly Tervellan had plans for Liese within his own ranks.

As Nathaniel looked out over those who were left, his eyes settled on another child perched on a fencepost. The blue hair made him stand out like a sore thumb, but Nathaniel would recognize that figure anywhere. He had heard the rumors of what the kid was, and the Lothwren boy was able to piece one thing together: they were going to be put in the same squad. There was no way they weren't going to pit the two "once in a generation" aura users against each other, probably for everyone else's safety. The smile that had been stifled grew slightly as Nathaniel eyed up the kid. From what he had seen in the spar, Kaiser had demonstrated an impressive physical prowess. But he seemed... unpredictable, perhaps even wild. Understanding his fighting style was going to take time, but it would be a fun puzzle to solve nonetheless. Of course, this led to Nathaniel’s second realization: Tervellan had clearly made a deal to secure two aura users in his ranks. If he had gone through the effort to squander most of his other choices, he was clearly hedging his bets on the two of them. And as much as Nathaniel tried to squash down the feelings of pride he felt, he also couldn’t help but agree that it was a good call. Nathaniel was going to do anything he could to make his family proud.

Finally, it came to the Thirteenth Squadron. Nathaniel gave a curt nod as he was announced as the second seat of his squadron. With Kaiser placed third, it was clear that priority was given to a prince and the two aura users left standing among the cadet hopefuls in terms of their seat rankings. He would prefer to be leading a squadron of his own... but serving under a prince? That was an honor that few got to experience. He quickly made his way forward to join the others, pleased by his position. Nothing could diminish the joy Nathaniel felt at being recognized, despite his failures in the spar. Nothing could possibly-

"Julian Baker."

Nathaniel's eyes glazed over for a moment as his body remained completely stiff and tense. The Baker boy, a peasant who had so callously tossed aside all manner of decorum and civility... was a cadet. Not only that, but Julian Baker was now a cadet under his care... under his charge! Nathaniel's focus returned as the Knight-Commander of the Eastern House stepped forward to deliver his speech. He hung on the words of the upstart knight. They were calculated, well-reasoned, and brief. A speech worthy of his station. Nathaniel only wished he could be so punctual. But as they were dismissed, Nathaniel's gaze turned back towards the Baker boy for a moment. He couldn't reasonably challenge Julian to a duel this very moment: Nathaniel had more important matters to attend to.

Nathaniel quickly moved towards Rossweine, moving swiftly and decisively towards his squadron leader. "Pardon me, your highness." Once attention had been afforded his way, Nathaniel snapped both of his legs together and clutched his right hand in a fist over his heart as he went for a deep bow at the waist. As he returned to standing upright, he continued in a stiff tone. "I am Nathaniel, First son of House Lothwren. I am looking forward to serving you and the rest of the squadron in whatever way you see fit." Nathaniel paused for only a moment, before he felt anxiety clasping at his throat. A smile remained plastered on his face, but the sudden shame of the sparring match weighed down on him like a blanket of lead. Nathaniel turned his gaze away from the prince, motioning vaguely in the direction of the barracks as he recomposed himself. Nathaniel brushed off the awkwardness of his initial greeting, with his tone matching his usual happy demeanor. ”It might be best to make our way to the barracks swiftly, if you like, in order to welcome the rest of our squadron and make ourselves known.”

@ERode
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So it was, and so it will be.

The herald announced the four Knight-Commanders’ presence, as if none in the crowd had registered their emergence. Of the South, Ser Rubeus Valentin, as fiery as flame and as passionate as war. For all that his temper had cost him, he was undeniably decorated, thrumming with an energy that infected those who he called forth. The pale-skinned youth recognized those names, recalled those duels. Shows of strength and courage, displays of domineering arrogance and pride. The Lions had hunted well, and yet…

Of the West, Prince Manegold Aelious Grayle, singularly exceptional now that he had finally found a way to wear his beard well. The esteemed Lady Rhymisain no doubt had a hand in his current appearance; if his brother had his way, he’d be sporting the unruly mane of his youth instead. Rossweine smiled, but neither prince made eye contact. It went without saying that they would not be united within this house. Rather, the heirs to recognizable swords art schools were called up, those who would take best to Manegold’s philosophies, those who already held enough respect for the Art of the Zeroth Tempo to lay their lives on the line to master it. The Stag’s horns would grow greater, and yet…

Of the North, Caius Ward, a veteran hailing from darker times, the histories written of him doing little to prove or disprove the legends that enticed. There was much to be said about how old men deserved fear and respect in a profession dominated by the youthful, but beyond even that, the wizened Knight-Commander remained in his position through wiles and brilliance, through experience and accomplishments that allowed him to bend the ear of the Lord Marshall and the Knight King. And those he called forth had similar aptitude for a cerebral brilliance. Those who had displayed feats of uncommon magic, those who had outthought rather than outfought their betters, those with the spark of ingenuity shining in their lives or in their duel, who had a bright future in the universities yet sought to make that brilliance shine upon the tip of a blade instead. Those individuals flocked. The Griffin flew ever higher, and yet…

The Absolute that was the Marquis’s firstborn daughter. The exile from Alexandria who bore Grayle’s Gift. Two Aura users of reputable households. All left behind. All, undoubtedly, to be brought into the fold of Gilbert Tervellan, of the Eastern House. Of the Black Wolves. Of the lowborn noble who made himself a Knight-Commander’s foundation through politics and sophistry.

So that was what it was.

After squads made out of he detritus left behind in the duels, the thirteenth was called, and one by one, exceptional names arose. His own went without saying, for his dearest brother’s intentions were remarkably transparent, and those who served directly beneath him were the dual Aura users, individuals marked by an infamy that did not match their blessed stars. Two migrants from Valefor were named next, of juxtaposed capabilities judging by their own performances upon the sandy pits. And of course, they had chosen to name the ladies immediately after, with a speed that did not befit the weight of their inheritance. A Julian Baker was the last to be called, and the rest in the crowd had nothing more to do but to shuffle away. There would be next year, perhaps. One would be pressed to impress, after all, in a generation so filled with stars.

Tervellan spoke, but Rossweine’s gaze turned towards those in his squad. He had watched the duels, had watched their fights. Up close, it was impossible to see it all, but at a distance, the entirety of the four-squared arena had been granted to him. Easy then, to memorize. Easy then, to recall. And though he didn’t find it to be anything particularly necessary, harmonious relationships made for a tranquil daily life. The bedrock for it would have to be set now, then. A breath. A tilting of his chin. The sunlight reflected in his eyes, setting a dazzling sheen to turquoise eyes. Instilling confidence now, drawing from the mindscape of a mirror-still ocean. Just an introduction, just a few comments. He will condescend as necessary for one of his mixed birth.

“Signar Wayland,” the princeling spoke, approaching with an even stride. “Though it is a shame that your instrument did not allow you to overcome the Porterchelles’ scion, it was a splendid display, nonetheless. That such talent was recognized gladdens my heart, and it would be a pleasure to hear of how such creations are craft at a more appropriate time.” Statements meant to draw attention, yet not meant to encourage conversation. “And Julian Baker,” Rossweine continued, favouring the dimunitive swordsman with a small smile, “Your ingenuity and ferocity no doubt caught the eye of our esteemed Knight-Commander, who is rumored to possess that same vigor for ascension. May our training together improve such impassioned qualities and...perhaps, grant you a blade sharper than a fistful of sand.” It was easier enough to confirm up close. They were fundamentally good people. A good base to graft a severed branch.

He found the one he was looking for in but a moment. Nathaniel and Kai possessed silhouettes too distinct to be mistaken for anyone else. Liese and Dot were working well in creating an alliance of the most blessed individuals amongst all the cadets. Process of elimination occurred in an instant, and with a voice that was soft yet travelled well, Rossweine beckoned his target over.

“Zenshin Ferros, if you would?”

Hooded cloak or not, the last member of the squad, and the least illustrious at that, was still one that the Black Wolf’s Knight-Commander sought to include in this squad of exceptionals. Perhaps it was just luck, or perhaps there was something more to him, but regardless, Rossweine didn’t need his mood to be affected by the dread and depression of another. So he clasped his hand upon the dark-skinned youth’s shoulder. A firm grip to affirm both their substance, and a firm gaze to settle his nerves. Practiced as always, for what royal could not inspire?

“You have stood against a superior foe in pursuit of your dream, and you have returned here after, despite the humiliation and scorn of those fellows, in pursuit of that same dream. That takes courage that those others, secured by lineage and tuition, do not possess. So stand taller, knowing that a Knight’s aptitude is found in an unbreakable will, rather than the inconstant nature of their flesh and the mutable quality of their skills.”

No smile for this occasion. Rather, an edict that rolled together into encouragement.

“Your foe, on that occasion, was Edwin Giraud, now assigned to the Crimson Lions. Hone yourself. When the tournament comes, I trust that you will prove his evaluation of your merit false.”

And with the Lothwren prodigy as a squadmate, that would happen without a doubt, if only Zenshin could stomach it. If not?

Well, Rossweine’s words were only worth the weight of the air used to vocalize them.

Though that brought up the other issue. He'd have to speak to Nathaniel soon too, before the esteemed Lothwren prodigy sought to use a duel for honor as an excuse to avenge himself...but of course, one ought to have expected Nathaniel to approach with immediacy. With the swordsman's approach, Rossweine released his grip and turned his attention upon the well-spoken youth. It was stifling, of course, but nothing more or less than what he had experienced at his siblings' social functions, and in the mirror-calm of the princeling's gaze, there was nothing to hint at ulterior motivations behind the words that flowed so easily out of Nathaniel.

Four, perhaps, who could be considered fundamentally good and reasonable. Though this one's face colored for a brief moment, not through embarrassment, but through shame. One didn't need any particularly grand insight to tell why, especially when the object of his shame was a mere two steps away.

"At ease, Nathaniel," Rossweine said, reflecting some of the warmth that exuded from his demeanor. "I will not demand this of you, but within the territory of the Knights, you may speak of me as merely your squad captain. As the second seat of the thirteenth squad, however, I hope you will be able to exceed the expectations I have of you, and that you will not hold a grudge towards Julian for teaching you a lesson that did not end in your death. Though we may all aspire to be Knights and to uphold our oaths, Grayle's enemies have no such aspirations."

This was perhaps getting a bit heavy. He didn't usually talk for so long. Was he really going to do this for everyone else, without even a drop of wine in sight?

"But you are correct. We ought to settle in the barracks and shake off the weight of ceremony. Could I trouble you, then, with inviting Liese and Dot to join us?"
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K A I

Squad 13's 3rd Seat



A man in too many colors for Kai's liking came out on stage, and made a long speech. Contrary to what one might think given what little display of his temperment they'd seen, Kai actually leaned forward on the post as he focused on the speaker.

This was it! He would be joining a grand tradition of knighthood, going back over five whole centuries! The same figures in the books, who slew Daemons and rescued princesses! The ones who defended the weak, and saved those in need! The ones like his Gramps, who could be stronger than anyone else...and kinder than anyone else, too. He was going to be like Gramps, too!

Then the strangely dressed man began reading out names. Kai tried to observe the others, but there were just so many even his eyes got tired after a while. He also fidgeted, and began to wonder when his own would be called. Gramps had once told him he'd been in one of these houses, but Kai couldn't remember which one. But Gramps had been House Champion--he'd been the best of the best! The bluette cracked his neck from side to side and renewed his vigilance, eager to live up to his adoptive parent's legacy.

The speeches of the other Heads of House weren't as interesting, as most of them only addressed the students themselves. The big guy with hair like a lion made it sound like his House would be a lot of fun, but even by Kai's standards it also seemed a little meat-headed. However, he noticed that the boy he himself had wrestled down to the ground in the qualifier spar, without even using a weapon, had been selected for this House. He smiled at that, genuinely happy that they might get to fight again...although, deep down, something inside him felt prickly, too. Why had that boy's name been called before his own, if he won the duel?

The older guy and the dangerous fellow with sharp eyes weren't long-winded either...but Kai's name was also not called for their houses. The boy's braid lifted over his shoulder in a question mark at first...and then began to droop.

"And, finally, the thirteenth squadron!"

Kai felt something cold, and heavy--a feeling he couldn't remember experiencing too many times before--settling on his chest. He gulped. What if...what if he had to go home? What if...he couldn't be like Gramps? He tried to tighten his jaw, because for some reason his lower lip was quivering.

"This squadron will be headed by His Highness, Prince Rossweine Lupus Grayle!"

This boy was tall and slender, but to Kai's opinion he seemed almost...fragile. He was a Prince? Weren't Princes supposed to be the ones, alongside Heroes, to defend the kingdoms and face down evils? Could a guy like this really do that? Kai had never really met any high nobility while living with Gramps. He tried to remember if he had seen this youth's spar before...and as he wracked his memory, he found it. He had found it really, really boring. And he didn't understand why everyone had cheered.

“The Knight King’s blood must truly run in his veins! Look at how he forced his foe to kneel without once striking back!” That was what they had said. But Kai had only thought this: How insulting it must be, to be beaten by someone who doesn't even have the will to fight.

"His second seat shall be Nathaniel Lothwren," continued the announcer. As the other boy walked on stage, Kai recognized him as one of the intense ones, the one he had noticed other applicants talking about--though most of those had already been chosen by now. Once the bluette got a better look at his face, he remembered that spar now too. Now that had been what a fight was supposed to be--although that little blonde had been more willing to "win," whereas Nathaniel had just been the "better fighter." Maybe that was why the guy had seemed like he was mad about something this whole time.

"...and his third... Kaiser Underwall, of House Sauvage."

"YES!" The boy's heart leaped, and so did the rest of him. Kai did a somersault with a one hundred and eighty degree twist from the post's top, and upon landing on the ground went on to perform a full cartwheel into a backflip before he landed with a heavy THUMP. Then he noticed the announcer and some of the others staring at him, and the body language on the House Commander. He decided to imitate the "ten-hut" attitude and curt nod that Nathaniel gave, and snapped his hands to his sides as he stood up ramrod-straight. His braid curled near his temple as if it were saluting.

The naming continued, and Kai relaxed a bit as he became more focused on watching those around him. Although...now that he wasn't up above the crowd anymore, there was really a lot going on. He started to feel...itchy, in a way. There were so many to pay attention to...

"Signar Wayland!" The big guy--the one he'd just seen back on the bridge, too. That blonde was still next to him. Wait a minute! That was the same one Nathaniel fought! Kai glanced at the other boy, feeling that an interesting reaction would have to take place if that kid got called. But, if Kai was remembering the big guy's spar, too...He didn't think he'd seen it directly, considering the crowds and so many other fights going on. He thought he remembered...an explosion? He smiled. He bet that guy had cool magic.

"Zenshin Ferros!" The one who acted like he didn't want people to notice him. Would he pull his hood down now? It was hard to figure out what might be going on there if Kai couldn't see his face. Watching other people's expressions seemed important if he wanted to understand what they were feeling.

"Dot Auferrum!" The other one from the post! Kai had a better look at them despite that flowing cloak and their dark clothes. And he recognized anger, not just in their face, but in their body's tension and the white-knuckle grip they had on that post. Why? Were they looking at...the Prince? But the shock of being called almost threw them off their perch. The anger seemed to...not so much fade, but cloud over. Maybe only for now.

"Liese Victoire Brendorn!" The other blonde, and the other really intense one. Kai got a look at their face and other features in more detail now that there wasn't a crowd between them. He...wasn't sure what to think. They didn't...look strong. Physically. But he got the impression that they were, somehow, strong...or...maybe the better term would be determined? Like the idea of retreat or losing wouldn't even occur to them. Kai thought that was...somewhat foolish. Maybe if you had no chance to get away from the predator, it was better to fight to the death. But the vast majority of fights weren't like that, at least from his perspective. If hunting prey took too much energy, it was better to scavenge. If holding territory meant facing a more powerful predator, it was better to give up and retreat.

"Julian Baker!" The one whose stomach had growled. The one who had beaten Nathaniel. Kai couldn't help but smile a little as the blonde came running towards the stage--some of these others were hard to figure out, but this one looked like they felt a bit like he did--like a dream was coming true.

The final of the four men upon the dais rose up, his long, dark hair trailing behind him as he approached the front of the stage.

"That will be all," he said, dismissing the herald, who nodded, rolled up the scroll, and departed. Not a word was spared for the remainder among the hopefuls, who quietly began to gather their things and trudge away. Kai looked at them and felt, to a lesser degree than before, the heaviness in his chest. An intrusive thought broke through--what if he had been like them? How would he have felt? He wasn't quite sure...but he figured, if he wouldn't have liked it, they probably didn't either. His braid slinked from one shoulder to the other.

"I have never had a particularly fine way with words... but I think we have all heard more than enough speeches today already, so I will keep this brief..." Their House Commander had struck Kai as one of the "dangerous" ones he'd seen today--all four of the men had. There was no doubt in his mind any one of them could easily best him, or any of the kids gathered here--maybe even all of them at once. But each one had different qualities, and thus they felt "dangerous" differently. This one...this one felt somewhat like...a vulture, maybe. Or a hyena, watching other beasts fight and ready to eat the loser.

"What is it that you can do for Grayle? Think long and hard on that in the days to come... and when you find an answer, see it through."

"Be a Hero!" Kai answered immediately, without even having to think. Why else would he be here? Why else do any of this? Knights fought and followed laws and codes. The only reason to fight was to win, which meant beating the enemy. And the only reason to follow rules were because you were good, and the rules were good to follow. So if good people had to fight and win, they had to fight evil, and protect people. So they had to be Heroes.

"Report to the Eastern Barracks. Your instructors will be waiting there to assign you your quarters, and you'll also have opportunities to meet with your squadmates. I would encourage you to use this time to familiarize yourself with both your accommodations and your brothers-in-arms, as tonight will be the last night of your old lives. Your training begins at dawn tomorrow. Dismissed!" Barking back these curt remarks, the bespectacled man turned and strode away, his long mane of hair and flowing cloak trailing behind him as he disappeared from view. Kai thought the man had scowled, but otherwise the bluette's "answer" had been seemingly ignored. The cadets looked around, unsure of themselves, but moments later began to disperse, making their way in a disorderly procession out of the courtyard and around the perimeter of the palace's outer wall, towards the barracks on the eastern side of the castle grounds.

Kai's gaze yet again swept the others. Liese moved to talk to Dot. Julian approached Signar. The Prince immediately headed for Signar as well, but had something to say to Julian too. And others. Nathaniel addressed the Prince. The blue braid lashed back and forth as Kai breathed out through his nose. There were too many conversations going on, and he wasn't sure what to do now. No one was talking to him at the moment...should he just follow the Commander's orders and head for the Barracks? But all of the others were introducing themselves and stuff. How...how should he act? He reached up and pulled at two of his hair's spikes in frustration, like a dog pawing at its own ears.

I don't want to be left out! I just--I gotta do something! Quick! The quickest! What's the fastest way!? He didn't want to initiate, but there was already so much going on, he felt itchy on the inside all over!

@webboysurfThe closest! The physically closest person to him! And that was...

Nathaniel!

The Prince had made a sort of circuit to greet several people, and Nathaniel had beelined after him, but between the stage and Kai. The others had been further back in the crowd even after they were called forward. And Nathaniel had introduced himself to the prince, and suggested that they head towards the barracks, and the Prince had responded, and it all sounded a lot like some of the older books he had read with Gramps, the ones where the words just kept going and going...

"Please excuse me, 2nd Seat Nathaniel." Kai walked with completely straight legs towards the other boy, then snapped them together when he stopped within arm's distance. He slammed his right fist over the left side of his chest and bent at the middle, then straightened again. "I'm Kaiser Underwall, adopted third son of Sir Kyner Sauvage." His braid twitched back and forth. "I thought I should introduce myself properly. I also look forward to working together in this squadron!" He smiled, with more than a hint of nervousness in his cheeks. But it didn't quite wrinkle his eyes--because they were focused intensely on the young man of equal height in front of him. Had he...done that right?
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--I Understand--


@Mcmolly

Peculiar...

Liese mused, noting the dumbfounded nervousness spilling from the gray-haired girl's form, considering the circumstances, there were a myriad of possible reasons; she was a girl in an environment populated overwhelmingly by boys, she was a foreigner exiled from her homeland, she didn't expect to be approached by an individual from the prestigious House Brendorn, she was simply a nervous person by nature, or any combination of these factors. However, as it turned out, the main reason was none of these, at least according to what Dot claimed.

Ah, so that’s why... In that very instant, Liese's respect for the younger student's valor soared faster than a bolt of lightning incantation. A warm, proud smile caressed over the taller blonde's lips, "I'm honored, well, it would be immoral of me to squander the boons I've been granted with squalor and idleness... unlike others of my station, tis' simply a noble's solemn duty to own up to the privileges given to us, do that or relinquish your title to someone else more deserving." He then leaned in closer to Dot, speaking in a lower voice to match her hush, "Of course, my utmost apologies, comrade... and believe me, I know how it feels like to be treated different just because of my body alone... I know very well."

With that, Liese leaned back, his smile had shifted into that of empathy, he had found a comrade-in-arms, "We shall prove to this kingdom that the prestige of knighthood must never prioritize someone due to their nobility, nor gender, Sir Auferrum."
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Zenshin Ferros


It took a bit of work but thanks to the boys wiry frame, Zenshin was able to maneuver his way through the crowd successfully melding in wit the rest of the candidates center right of the big stage. Still anxious as ever but finding temporary sanctuary with the decline in judgment being placed upon him. He picked at the dirt under his fingernails as he pondered on what to do if he doesn't get picked, surely there was no return back to Valefor after walking out on the family. Perhaps he could beg and plead to be apart of the knights medical unit, his knowledge of herbs weren't particularly after all, or perhaps pick up a job at one of the taverns in town? Soon enough a notable man appeared in front of the podium and beginning his speech, the culling surely following after.

Zenshin stood there frozen in place as he faced the stage, it felt as though he had two anchors planting his feet to the ground, he even had to remind himself to breathe a couple of times just through the speech alone. Once the distinctive man who's clothes represented each of the four houses finished the opening speech, the southern house seemed to be the first up to select. The Crimson lions and their commander, Ser Rubeus Valentin. They listed off their selections swiftly, one of them being the boy who had humiliated Zen in his spar. As he walked across the stage Zen felt small scar on his cheek, the memories of the spar along with the emotions he felt still fresh from the battle. He could feel his emotions swelling up, he didn't want his knight journey to end right before they began after taking such a leap of faith.

Soon enough the Crimson lions ended their selection with Zenshin not making their ranks, its not like he expected to be picked by the first house surely. Perhaps maybe the second or third house in line to pick would snatch the kid from Valefor up hopefully?

Wrong

As both the Northern house and Western house selected their candidates, it was a given that he would not be on Manegolds radar to begin with nor Caius wards. This only left one person which would be ser Gilbert Tervellan, a commander whom is also of commoner origin.

Maybe there is hope for me after all? It makes sense after all for Tervellan to pick me up right?

The boy said easing his anxiety a tad bit as he looked at who else was left, the place seemed a bit on the empty side as a handful of 'people' were left over.

Oh Fendel have mercy

There wasn't just ANYONE left over, it was arguably some of the best candidates left over! Certainly leagues above Zenshin in everything and anything. Kai Sauvage and Nathaniel Lowren whom were the two aura users of our generation, the absolute guy whom destroyed their opponent just to name a few! What was Zen supposed to do in front of such greatness. Adding insult to injury this group was going to be headed by Prince Rosseweine Lupus Grayle with Nathaniel and Kai being the second and third seats.

Im pretty sure ther was a tavern at the beginning of town, maybe if I can earn my keep for the night if I leave right now.

The boy thought to himself slowly preparing to turn around.

"The remaining members of the squad shall be..."

"Signar Wayland"

Good for that guy, would be a shame for somoni of his stature to go to waste

“Zenshin Ferros”

Huh?

Zenshin spun back quickly towards the stage at breakneck speeds after hearing his name called. His emotions welling up as the emotional anchors placed upon his feet were released. A smile formed on his face as his eyes began to water, he had made it into the knights of Grayle. The boy tuned out the rest of the names called as he rubbed the tears way from his eyes, a smile forming on his face. Shocked yet relieved at the same time that he was chosen, nonetheless he was grateful for the opportunity. It seems as though the Eastern house seen the boy as useful in one way or another throughout his time here.

Before parting ways, Ser Gilbert Tervellan left the group with some choice words being "What can you do for Grayle?" Surely something that Zen would keep in the back of his mind throughout his time here. He remembered that there was tension going on between Alexandria and Grayle currently, he would surely have to be ready in the near future. The group was also instructed to report to the eastern barracks to meet with the other members, he took a look around and saw whom were left and it was a rather impressive group nonetheless. The guy that had been Nathaniel, some freakishly huge guy, as well as Liese Victoire who was in Zen's opinion the crème of the crop, even the dancer boy had made the cut whom despite what others thought, maneuvered really well in combat.

And then there was Zen...definitely the weakest link, even so making the knights was the highlight of his life right now and nothing was going to spoil his mood. As he began to make his way over to the barracks he felt a hand from his shoulder. Zenshin was in disbelief, still in shock from making the cut he had forgot that Prince Rosseweine would be captain of this group of individuals. He was definitely much nicer than the other nobles, finding positivity in the Valefor boys shortcomings, praising him on his courage for not giving up. Surely enough this boosted the boys head to be receiving such words from a person of his status and ancestry. Prince Rosseweine even pointed out whom his foe was from the spar, motivating the boy to sharpen his skills in preparation for the tournament before walking off.

"T-Thank you your highnesslord-c-captain! I won't let you down!" he said saluting before following up with a bow. His face flushed red, knowing that he had completely butchered his first impression but he pulled himself up and puffed out his chest as he made his way towards the barracks. Nervous yet also rather eager to speak with his other squadmates.

@ERode
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