---

With a gasp, the monotone words came to an anticlimactic end. Lucas barely managed to catch himself on the desk, his knee slamming into a leg as he clung on to keep himself from falling. His entire body shook as he tried to catch his breath, but the shock wore off quickly as anger took its place. He made himself steady and immediately flipped the desk over, knocking everything on it to the ground. He barely reacted as he heard glass shatter onto the ground and pages tore and ripped, instead choosing to stare at the ceiling.

“‘Hidden to those who do not seek it’ my ass,” He huffed in frustration, brushing back his bangs off his forehead. He was all sweaty now, too, what the fuck was going on? His body was reacting poorly to the scroll, and he couldn’t figure out why. His only solace was that he had heard most of it this time, so it was progress.

After a few minutes, he lazily gestured towards the mess he had created. ”Sicut erat,” He muttered, watching as the desk lifted itself and everything went back to its proper place. He caught the scroll in mid-air, taking care to wrap it up properly before placing it down. Alright, he knew what he needed to do now. The Goddess had a wicked sense of humor if he was supposed to be the one to shepard people.

He straightened as he heard a knock on the door. “Your Highness, the car will be here in half an hour. Your father has asked if you’re ready,” A voice asked him.

Considering how he was dripping in sweat and his hair was messed up again, the answer was a resounding ‘no.’

Lucas took a few seconds to compose himself and opened the door. “Have someone put everything back where it was,” He told the servant, walking past them.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” The servant asked worriedly.

“I’m peachy,” He replied.

“It’s just that you seem shaken–”

“I’m fine,” He rolled his eyes, waving his concern off. “Don’t delay the car, just have James ready with my outfit.”

Despite the servant’s initial hesitation, he scampered off. Lucas’ stride slowed down as he saw his vision blur, his hand slamming against the wall as he caught himself. Taking in a deep breath, he forced himself to continue walking. This Scion crap was complete bullshit, no one said anything about any side effects. He needed to get himself together, and the first step towards that was a shower.

“Stupid church bullshit…”

---

The sun was just starting to dip into the horizon, painting the numerous white and bronze buildings vermillion. The people came from all over, some from their homes, others from transport, but they walked with a purpose, and they were all walking towards the Cathedra Incepta of Juniperus. The church knights stood at the ready, watching the populace, and the knights within the church donned their traditional armor. Sunbeams filtered through stained glass windows depicting the Goddess and the original Scions, their colors dancing across the floors. The air carried a scent of juniper and sacred incense, giving a sense of peace and reverence underneath the buzz of excitement. Statues of the Scions, carved with exquisite detail, watched all who entered.

While the general populace filtered in and took their seats, history was being made in another room. The air in here was much quieter, much more pensive as everyone was silent. The Scions and their Templars waited, the Commander standing at attention with his right hand at his side. Finally, the doors opened and drew the room’s attention, and the Prince of Estora strolled in alone. Dressed in a suit adorned with the Estoran star, the prince looked like any other royal. His hair was slicked back and away from his face, green eyes staring straight ahead with an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t bother looking at anyone, stopping in front of High Cardinal Margaret and saying nothing.

“Thank you for joining us, Your Highness,” Margaret greeted him kindly, giving him a proper bow. She turned to the group at large, clasping her hands together. “While this will be His Highness’ public debut as the Scion of Time, we alone will bear witness to the Blessing. For those unaware, this is High Prince Lucas Estora the tenth. The Goddess has chosen him as an inheritor to her power.”

She looked at Fyodor expectantly, though was surprised when Lucas immediately walked away from the group and towards the empty space close to the altar. He stopped and pointed at the ground, drawing a circle in the air. Mana formed a thin circle around the area he pointed at, glowing brighter as he stepped in, waiting.

Tyler Morris emerged from the rear of the chapel, face set in stoic indifference as he crossed the dais in his latest walk of shame. The pageantry hardly seemed necessary. No one in this room, himself included, wanted to see him up there at the altar; they should just skip the whole ordeal and let the prince slap him across the face to bless him as he deserved.

Dutifully, he took his place in the circle before Lucas, daring to meet his eyes apologetically for only a moment before he knelt in preparation for the ceremony. Tyler had arrived that morning intending to goad the prince at least a little, maybe wave to the crowd, get a few angry grumbles - but in the moment, all he felt was shame. Even on his knees, he wasn’t worthy.

So he simply hung his head and waited.

Lucas watched Tyler in silence, though once he was in place, he let out a small sigh. Lifting his right hand, he exhaled quietly, letting himself feel the mana around him. After a few seconds passed, it looked like there were glittering lights around them and they slowly began to move.

“Sir Tyler Morris, do you vow to walk unflinchingly in the ways of the Goddess, wheresoever She may lead?” Lucas asked, staring down at Tyler.

Tyler remained mostly still, though the hand draped across his knee clenched at the words. Ah, what a joke they had made this out to be. The little script was the worst part; last time he’d said it with gusto.

“With the Mother to guard me, I do,” he replied, flat and robotic.

“Do you vow to shepherd your charge dutifully, and to stand watch on every side, that he may never be led astray?”

Tyler tilted his head to eye Fyodor and flashed a cheeky smirk. “With the Mother to guide me, I do.”

Fyodor let out a deep sigh, unamused.

Lucas ignored it and continued, “Do you vow to defend your charge with all your strength of arm, heart, and mind, at the cost of your very life?”

“With the Mother to strengthen me, I do.”

The mana around them began to circle the pair, and Lucas closed the gap between them. “Where would you like your minor sigil?” He asked him.

“Just embarrass me and get it over with,” Tyler huffed.

Lucas did everything in his power not to roll his eyes, though a groan audible only to Tyler did escape. He knelt down a touch and pressed his fingers between Tyler’s shoulder blades, closing his eyes as he prayed to the Goddess silently.

”May Anani guide my path,” He muttered to himself.

At that point, Lucas’ holy sigil glowed on his forehead, causing the mana around them to do the same. Lucas pressed his hand fully on the spot and mana burst from his touch. Raising his hand, the mana followed, snapping and twisting downward as he released it. The mana around them converged at the spot, the light dimming and forming the minor holy sigil.

“Rise, Sir Tyler Morris, Templar of Time, and stand before the Goddess and the Church, a new creation,” Lucas ordered, taking a step backwards.

Tyler gritted his teeth as tendrils of mana seared into his back again, bringing with it the familiar surge of power he’d sorely missed. No, it wasn’t quite like Theo’s. It was stronger, harsher; either Theodore had been too gentle for his own good or the investiture had been stronger this time. Not that he intended to let His Highness know; that prick had a big enough head even before the Mother catapulted him to greatness.

Though Tyler heard the request just fine, he didn’t entertain it immediately. He drew in a deep breath and, upon exhaling, took in the flow of the world. His heart, previously pounding, slowed in an instant. Everything slowed. The room faded away and in its place was the nebulous time inbetween the seconds that only he and Theo- he and his Scion could bear witness to.

He’d sorely missed it.

Tyler flicked his gaze up to Lucas, just to see if he’d noticed the little stunt, then rose as lethargically as he could, though an onlooker would surely see him moving as he always did, if not a bit faster, as the brand on his back lit ablaze through his uniform. The moment rushed back to greet him as he reached his full height, and the room began to flow again as Tyler turned around to face it.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Lucas didn’t miss the gaze or the show of power, eyes narrowing a touch, but once Tyler stood, he let it go. For now. Adjusting his sleeve, he stepped down from the altar, the circle disappearing fully. While he was seemingly annoyed by his Templar, his eyes were directly on the high cardinal.

Margaret wasn’t pleased, but she stepped forward and gave the pair a bow nonetheless. “And thus the Goddess has answered your prayers,” She said as she lifted her head, eyes focused on Lucas. She didn’t linger for too long before she turned back to Fyodor. “I will await you in the main hall, I’m certain Irina will be here with the Templars’ armor any minute now. If you’ll excuse me, Holy Ones.”

She departed the room shortly afterwards and left the Scions with their Templars. Once she was gone, Lucas gave Tyler his full attention. “You were quick to try it out again,” He commented. “I want to know if you’re going to continue that or if you’re going to bore me. If you end up giving me that sad, puppy dog look again I might throw up.”

“Had to make sure I didn’t get rusty,” Tyler responded as he descended the altar to face Lucas, “Out of practice, y’know.” That wasn’t the reaction he’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain if the prince elected never to bring up Theodore again. “I will endeavor to keep you as entertained as possible, if that is Your Highness’ wish.”

Lucas quirked an eyebrow, eyes watching Tyler for a moment. The corner of his lip almost perked up, but he contained himself. Instead, he once again closed the gap between them. “I can’t decide if that’s entertaining or annoying,” He admitted, still searching Tyler’s face. “Templar you may be, but I need someone that can think outside of their duties. Or are you content with being someone else’s dog again for the rest of your days?”

Tyler pursed his lips, though he kept his casual demeanor for the sake of appearances. “I haven’t been a dog in years, Your Highness. Such an insinuation is almost insulting.” To Theo or himself, he wasn’t sure.

Lucas doubted that, but kept it to himself. “Is it? Because last I recall, Theodore slipped away and ordered you to stay put, and you obeyed instead of immediately going to him,” He reminded him.

The Templar’s face sunk into a petulant sneer. So much for decorum, though he’d extensively prepared for this eventuality regardless.

“Are you suggesting I keep you on a tighter leash? I entertained your cousin’s whims because I trust him, not because he ordered me to do anything. But if you’d prefer I never let you out of my sight, that can be arranged.” This wasn’t his first rodeo; he wasn’t a new knight blinded by the honor of standing in a Scion’s presence. He knew what pull he did and didn’t have. And he also knew that the Church would agree if he decided a canary was always safer in a cage, even if it ended up too depressed to sing.

Lucas narrowed his eyes at Tyler, something at the tip of his tongue as a pang of anger hit him. He seemed to change his mind, instead stating, “Scions are considered above most, and it’s understandable to think you could leash me. But I’ll remind you that I’m not like others–should my father win his claim, I’ll be in line for the Estoran throne.”

He did take a second to step back and look Tyler up and down. “That and I don’t think you could,” He admitted with a half-shrug.

Would throwing a prince on the ground in the middle of the Cathedra Incepta make Tyler happy? Incredibly so. Would it be worth it? He wasn’t sure yet.

“Well, let’s hope I never have to prove you wrong. I’d hate to embarrass my future liege,” Tyler quipped, unimpressed. “Or you can keep dropping his name and we’ll see what happens.”

Lucas shook his head, wagging a finger at Tyler. “Oh…being the sensitive type doesn’t suit you,” He chided him. Instead of putting his hand down, however, he outright pinched Tyler’s cheek. “You’re going to need to get some thicker skin, because now that you’re back to being the Time Templar, everyone is going to be bringing up Theodore. Or are you going to get in a fistfight with everyone in the church?”

Tyler glanced down at the hand on his cheek, but didn’t bother to slap it away.

“If necessary,” he responded flatly, “But I haven’t slapped you yet, have I?” Everyone already talked, that wasn’t a new occurrence. Besides, he always said he’d fight any man, and he meant any man.

Lucas pinched harder before letting go, though he then gave him a light slap on the same cheek. “We’ll see how long you can hold yourself back,” He said. “If I have to train you to be what I need, so be it. Otherwise I’ll find someone else.”

Tyler only hummed, as if considering the words and not dismissing them the moment they crossed his ears. “You should ask the commander how that’s working for him. Am I dismissed, Your Highness?”

Lucas nodded, waving him away. “Try to get along well with the other children, I don’t want to have to pull you off anyone.”

Tyler placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head in farewell. “As you wish. And I’m older than you, respect your elders.”

Lucas was unamused.

---

Sara stood at attention next to Theobald during the ceremony. Though she maintained a stoic expression befitting the gravitas of the event, mentally she chafed against the situation. Though she had been a woman of the church, what 'the church' constituted varied from place to place, and the humility of the orphanage that she was used to differed drastically from the opulence of the Cathedra Incepta. Rowdy children, upstart squires, and boisterous knights were what she was used to, and she had a hard time deciding how best to behave in the presence of deeply-entrenched as well as up-and-coming nobility.

The anointing itself was also incredibly awkward. Though the death of the previous Scion of Time was a serious tragedy and a blow to the faith, Sara did not feel that it was fair for Sir Tyler to bear such a stigma. If they were unsatisfied with his performance, why did they not simply dismiss him? Of course, Sara was sure that a thorough investigation must have been made that, on paper, absolved him of blame and negligence, but what was legally determined and what ill feelings people continued to bear in their hearts rarely, if ever, aligned. But though it may hurt Sir Tyler's career and reputation to be dismissed, it may perhaps be better than to be forced to carry such a burden and to face the constant onslaught of derision and suspicion.

Thinking that, Sara realized that she was no different, as she stole a glance at her own 'ward', a man who had made it his life's goal to fend off 'her people' and become a war hero. Sara recalled her ceremony, where Theobald had slapped her afterwards for being Kaudian, and wondered if the same would happen once this one was over. Yet she remained by his side, perhaps out of a sense of duty to the faith, perhaps because she believed she was strong enough to suffer the thinly-veiled insults and unkind glances. Perhaps Sir Tyler felt the same way.

Be that as it may, Sara also knew that this stuffy environment didn't suit Theobald either, and if it ever became too much for him and he stormed out of the cathedral, Sara would be more than happy to accompany him, though she may linger to at least pay respects and congratulate the new Scion and Templar.

---

Ionna had been in Juniperus less than a day, and was already on the precipice of an incident. Sitting on the steps to an entrance specifically reserved for the Scions and Templars, she waited while the guards made sure that the small box of cookies she’d baked were not, in fact, bombs designed to eradicate the powers that be. Her Templarhood and winning smile were apparently not evidence enough. So, she sat there on the stone in her shiny uniform, creasing it in ways that would likely have made its designers foam at the mouth, and prayed to the goddess that her absence wasn’t embarrassing Dominika.

From her pocket, she produced a series of small notecards, which gained her a flinch from the guard who had stayed behind to mind the door. Gosh, people here could be so jumpy. On one side was either the word ‘Scion’ or ‘Templar’, and on the other, their respective names. She’d drawn them up the night before in preparation; she’d been aware of some of them peripherally, and others like the Templar of Time were in the news often enough, but for others she was learning their names for the first time. Being the newest, she felt a responsibility—or perhaps more accurately a crushing anxiety—not to appear entirely ignorant. It had been pressed upon her that being good with a sword was not actually a full qualification, and that she would need to present herself more appropriately for someone of her station.

Assumedly that meant not getting the names of the holy Scions wrong.

“Lucas Estora—easy. Tyler Morris.” she set those cards aside, doubtful that anyone in the country didn’t hear their names a few times by lunch each day. “Templar of Wind…uhm…okay, Wind is Hollyhock. Hollyhocks grow best in temperate, sunny places—like Veradis! Jannick Web…Web-something. Webster.”

She flipped the card. Weber. Close enough. So was Edman Silvaine, Templar to the popular miss Desrosiers, which Ionna didn’t even attempt to pronounce. Edmund was such a Rodion name, she felt silly getting it wrong.

To her relief, she got most of the rest in one. The elegant elder Lucienne and her well-loved Templar, Sir Jacinthe. The earthen Scion Justinian, a known trouble-maker and media darling, as well as his Templar—or handler, depending on who you asked—Dame Esperanza. Kindly Sir Vissarion and the diva Isabella. Of course, she knew the Templar of Light by heart, having been a fan of the Dame Gusev before she even took up her position as the princess’s guard. Then there was the fierce commander Gaumond, who father had made her keenly aware of when he became the Scion of fire, and for good reason. His Kaudian Templar had been the focus of many tabloid rumors, but Ionna had always regarded him as the truer threat between them, even against her own wishes. Then there was His Holiness Mirandola, the romantic, in hoc to shadow with his own Templar.

That left only one card for Dominika, and Ionna panicked before she remembered that she was the Templar. Good! So long as she could keep all of that straight, everything ought to go smoothly.

Eventually the guards did return, and begrudgingly returned her cookies. She left them a few, as recompense for the trouble, and hurried inside, excited as could be.

--

As the—Templaring?—ceremony concluded, and Sir Morris was properly returned to his position, the High Cardinal wasted no time in excusing herself. Ionna didn’t miss how her eyes lingered on the prince, nor the…interesting conversation between him and his new Templar. Not that she could hear any of it, mind, but was it normal for a Scion to…pinch their guard’s cheek like that? Perhaps Her Holiness—Her Highness?—the princess, but these two? Strange. Cute, but strange.

Regardless, with the High Cardinal gone and the lot of them being left presumably to their own devices for the time being, Ionna sprung into action. She retrieved her box of cookies from behind a pillar, and poked her head around to make sure Dame Albakova wasn’t here yet. She only saw Sir Fyodor, which still made her a bit nervous, but nowhere near as much as Irina did. Nonetheless, she’d still made sure to account for the woman when she was baking, just in case.

Ionna made her way forward to a clearing in the room. “Pardon!” she said, not loudly, but more cleanly than she’d anticipated. Then again, meeting people had never been particularly difficult for her. “Ah, my name is Ionna, I’m sort of new to the order. I just wanted to say it’s wonderful to meet you all! And, if you’re so inclined, I’ve brought some treats for everyone. Chocolate chip on the right, plain sugar on the left. Please feel free! All they cost is an interesting fact about yourself, so I can get to know you!”

Hollyhock

---

The sombre air was stifling and cold. The ceremony of bestowal was meant to be a traditional formality. It was the recognition of the obligations and duties of a Templar. This time, it was different. Hollyhock could feel the distrust and anger brush against her exposed wrists. Her loose dress and veil, more formal and darker than usual, comforted her in this atmosphere.

Hollyhock wasn't really a friend of the late Theo. It was strange, wasn't it? A young Hollyhock often saw the Estoran prince as her duties required, yet they had never had childish conversations to fondly look back on. When Theo had become a Scion, they exchanged meaningless pleasantries as people in the same position would. She had never asked about his life, his thoughts, or any such matter. Now she couldn't.

She supposed that perhaps it was for the best that she was distant with the prince. It was better that she felt an empathetic sadness rather than a personal sorrow.

Luckily, her stomach didn't betray her for the bestowal. No rumbles or grumbles to break the solemn ceremony. While it would have usually been ignored, the vestiges of death were apparent in the proceedings. Or maybe it should have. It would have at least kept some eyes off of Tyler.

The year end's itinerary was quite painful for Hollyhock. Having this ceremony at 5 and the procession at 6 made for a very dangerous timeline: it cut directly into her first dinner.

Jannick would know this well. However, not well enough to actually stop her. By the time that the ceremony ended, he would have noticed that Hollyhock had already disappeared.

And where was Hollyhock?

Well, she had reappeared beside Ionna with veil lifted and three cookies: one in each hand and one already in her mouth. Nobody had noticed her arriving and grabbing cookies. She was just there and already eating.

A healthy crunch caused the cookie in her mouth to fall, her already full hands managing to catch it. The gooey treat filled her mouth with the flavours of sweet wheat and chocolate. A smile filled her face as her cheeks were stuffed like a small animal.

She gulped down the cookie, her cheeks as rosy as ever and a streak of chocolate at the side of her mouth.

"I can play a half-dozen instruments, control the wind, and my favourite type of cookie is triple chocolate chunk."

---

Theobald awoke with a cold sweat, his eyes bloodshot as he rose to attention just as the first rays of light streamed through a window. His hand shot up to his throat, where the invisible mark of the goddess' favor lay branded on his body. With a sigh, he rose to his feet, the clock by his bedside reading oh-five-hundred as he checked a small notebook by his bedside.

The Millenial Ceremony was scheduled that day, a ceremony that he had no choice but to attend yet had no reason to avoid. It was a change in the monotony of church life, after all, and a potential chance to change the course of his life. He scored it off the page, noting down the other necessary events of that day onto the paper before filing it neatly in his pocket.

After dealing with his general hygiene, he gently thumbed through what little varieties of clothing he owned in the luxurious dresser the church offered him, picking out the finest of his military uniforms among the many that filled his meager selection. Within a cabinet, he removed a leather box that had been carefully maintained, revealing the decorated medals laid inside. Polishing off each one, he snapped them into place across the front of his uniform, adjusting each so that they lay perfectly across the polyester.

As he went through his preparations for the ceremony, he stopped as he passed by a weapon displayed in his room, whose metal blade gleamed in the sunlight and was held aloft like a trophy upon a wooden plaque. It was something he used quite frequently, a partner who he maintained his skill with each day in preparation for the day he could bring it out into the world once more.

After a moment's hesitation, he took the gunblade off the plaque, sheathed and strapped to his side as the clock neared the ceremony time. He needed to make an impression, after all, and a soldier without his weapon was but a civilian in costume.

---

The ceremony itself was formal, as expected, the air somewhat tense from the events that had preceded and brought about the ceremony in the first place as the Estoran prince and his Templar continued to speak privately on stage. He had not known the Scion of Time, barely in parting and only learning of the man through the peace talks between him and Kaudus, and felt only indifference when it came to the internal struggles aired out by the people's feelings on the Templar of Time.

If he was truly at fault with the previous Scion's demise, they would have discharged him immediately. The fact that he isn't means that it was the fault of the commanding officer, something that the former lieutenant thought could be seen a mile away from the moment he thought that the Kaudian Empire could be dealt with amicably.

Unbidden, his gaze drifted to the woman by his side, unintentionally meeting her gaze. It was a sick joke that a child of his previous enemies had become his warden, but there hadn't been much he could do about it in the grand scheme of things. By the time he'd come to his senses after being ferried to the church, the choice had been made long after he had the chance to refuse it. Though she annoyed him on a personal level, and even more so under the command of the church, it wasn't to the level that he would break formality before the royalty of the state.

And before, of course, the man he wished to speak with. As soon as he was able, the ceremony concluded and the participants allowed to socialize, he approached his target as swiftly as he could without seeming rushed. His large stature towered over many of the other attendees, and many gave him a wide berth as he single-mindedly attempted to meet with the leader of the Templars.

Commander Fyodor. A man who needed no introduction, at least in Theobald's eyes. He waited patiently until the Commander was prepared to acknowledge him, and snapped into a formal salute when the older man turned towards him. "Commander Fyodor. Lieutenant Colonel Theobald Gaumand, leader of the 5th battalion of the 2nd Assault Army. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."

If it were him of twenty-eight years ago, perhaps that child-like him would've jumped for joy meeting the man who led him to his dream, the hero of the battlefield that garnered victory wherever he went. But it was not a child who met the Commander, but a soldier, and so he maintained his salute until the commanding officer on field would let him ease himself.

What he wanted required his childhood hero's commendation and approval, he would not allow himself to breach formality unless the man before him allowed it.

No matter how much he wished to grab his notebook and ask for an autograph.

---

Maya had never once regretted her move to Juniperus. Aside from the everyday benefits it carried for a Scion like herself, today it meant that she got to do all of her preparation for the Millennium Festival in her own penthouse - a relief, since she packed her day even more fully than a normal event would demand. It wouldn’t normally take several hours just to choose an outfit and do her makeup for the evening - not even she could stretch the process out that long on her own - but stopping every few minutes to re-record a clip for a Get Ready With Me or to post one of several different pictures of her breakfast really made the process drag on.

And it was all very necessary. And not just the same kind of necessary that she always insisted to Edmund that every Instagram post was, but especially necessary. Maya had been hyping up the Millennium Festival for weeks, and her followers expected detailed coverage. More importantly, she had deals and collabs set up with brands for everything from her hydroflask to her nail polish, and everything needed to be photographed in the right light and at the right angle - but subtly, of course. She wasn’t a sellout.

There was a bit of chaos, a few shrill profanities thrown around, but by the time the limousine came Maya had wrapped her day (and more importantly, her social media posts) into a neat little bow. Her dress was elegant enough for the red carpet but demure enough for a church function: long sleeves and a high neck covered most of her skin, but a slit in the neckline stopped her from looking like a seventeenth century dame, and modest gold accents glittered like stars against the midnight purple fabric. A matching gossamer veil completed the look, almost blending in with her hair if not for the tiny gold beads flecked throughout; her favourite piece of the night, since it came from a brand new sponsor of hers. The picture she posted of the completed outfit was already racking up likes as she and Edmund got into the limo.

The ride to the Cathedra Incepta was short, but long enough to be awkward; Edmund usually didn’t ride with her, and it showed. Regardless, she took a selfie on the drive with him in the background, knowing that her fans would eat it up - they had made a game out of picking Edmund out of pictures, and they loved ammunition for their search. And, brooding or not, Maya would begrudgingly admit (but never out loud) that he cleaned up decently nice; the white Templar uniform was a nice change from the edgy dark clothes he usually chose, even if the purple accents did kind of make them look like prom dates. Maya shuddered at the thought.

Aside from forcing Edmund to take a picture of her in front of the Cathedra Incepta, the ceremony itself was boring; sacred oaths, fancy light show, same thing she’d done herself two years back and witnessed a couple of times since. Maya supposed it was cool if you were into dusty old tradition, which meant that Edmund should have been having a blast, but not even Sir Knight himself seemed enthused by the display. Of course, that could have been because his panties were still in the same twist they’d been in since the news first broke about Sir Tyler’s appointment - tighter, perhaps, given that his usual dignified scowl was now coloured with shades of very real disdain at the sight of the returning Templar of Time.

Maya couldn’t deny herself a coy little smirk at the display. It was so hard for anyone to get a rise out of her duty-bound protector, this was a rare treat indeed. She knew on some cerebral level the source of Edmund’s animosity, but she neither shared nor cared to understand it; she did, however, care to push his buttons a little bit. It was a special occasion, after all.

“Aw, isn’t it inspiring?” Maya asked in a whisper, leaning so that only her Templar could hear her. “I remember when that was you and me up there, don’t you?” She smiled sweetly up at Edmund; he knew her well enough to see that the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Beyond her brooding Templar, of far more interest to Maya than the blessing ceremony were the other figures in attendance. Kasper and Justinian she knew in passing - the former had been the adopted pride of Doumerc since long before she ever became a Scion, and the latter was like an algorithm barnacle on just about every social media platform frequented by teenage boys - and she and Princess Belle over there were well-acquainted; it was amazing how much one can get to know someone through insincere pleasantries and venomous looks alone.

But the rest were a little less familiar. The big one she recognized by his sheer size, remembering him as the middle-aged Scion of Fire whose name didn’t match his home country, even though she couldn’t precisely recall either; the girl scarfing down cookies was the Scion of Wind, Holly-something, whom Maya knew only enough to know this seemed on-brand; Maya got to hear all about Marchioness Lucienne’s heroic efforts for the poor and downtrodden every time she blessed a hospital, so she neither needed nor desired any introduction; and of course, despite living in the Holy City, Maya had never really met the little princess of Veradis - that giant guard dog of hers they called a Templar usually kept her at arm’s length. A freakishly long, man-ish arm’s length.

The last one, though - the plain-looking chick who didn’t ring any bells, seemingly by design - Maya couldn’t remember which one she was. Which, by process of elimination, meant she must have been the Scion of Metal, whose ceremony Maya had attended only six months ago and whose name Maya had forgotten at precisely the same moment she learned it. No worries; if anyone from the media asked about the other Scions, they always prefaced the question with their name anyway.

---

---

Jannick had looked forward to this event for some time, and for the most part, it did not disappoint. He was still convinced that nobody could throw a party like the Holy City, and there would surely be no better place in Gaia for the Millennium Festival. Preparations had already begun in earnest when he and Hollyhock arrived a few days prior, and the drive over from the hotel today was significantly slowed by detours where closed-off roads were choked with people milling around in their finery, buzzing with excitement. Streets were lavishly decorated, stalls for vendors of every type were erected, and the festivities were already in full swing; and here and there, standing up above the rest on tall white horses, trotted Church Knights in their shining gold armour, waving down at children and staring watchfully over the crowds.

And that, to Jannick’s considerable disappointment, was what made his homecoming a bit of a mixed bag. He really was happy to be home; it had only been six months since he left, but in that time he’d scarcely spent any more time in his “new home” in Rosaria than he had at any one of Hollyhock’s innumerable vacation homes scattered all over Gaia, and the travel wearied him considerably. Granted, even staying put in Rosaria probably would have done the same; he had spent the bulk of his life within the same six blocks of home, and leaving it was hard. Really hard.

Which was why he didn’t expect coming back to be equally difficult, but here he was. The few extra days tacked on to their trip had afforded him some time to visit with his family and friends, but that was as much a hindrance as a help: seeing his family was good, but all of his friends either lived at the Civitas Equitum or worked at his old precinct. Jannick thought he’d be happy to visit, but the familiar sights only made him feel even farther away; there everyone was, going about the business that was so familiar to him, and he was just a visitor. An outsider. And worse still, they treated him like one, making all sorts of a fuss over his “big promotion.” Being halfway across the continent might have been better.

Sir Tyler’s Blessing Ceremony didn’t do much to lift Jannick’s spirits. Fortunately, his poor mood didn’t make him stand out; it seemed like there were more than a few in attendance who weren’t too enthused by Sir Tyler’s appointment. Jannick might have been in the minority in that sense. The media made a lot of hay out of the controversy around this appointment, but to Jannick, it seemed pretty straightforward: Sir Tyler was investigated, and the powers that be found that his Scion’s death wasn’t his fault. Case closed. Jannick had seen enough of these shitstorms to know how they worked; the media and the public never got the full story, and Incepta only knew that if the evidence was enough to convince Fyodor of Tyler’s faultlessness, it was enough for Jannick. The court of public opinion would never change their minds, but he’d never put much stock into that anyway.

Of course, the theories of the public and the gripes of the other Templars were probably separate things entirely. That much was clear from the vows they swore - similar to the vows of a Church Knight, but above and beyond in every respect, with absolute dedication not only to Incepta, but to a charge. That was probably why the eyes of more than a few Templars burned as they watched Sir Tyler receive his second Blessing - a fate the vows themselves seemed explicitly designed to prevent.

Sir Tyler felt it too, no doubt; whether from the scorn of the masses or his own personal misgivings, Jannick didn’t miss the tension in Tyler’s form as he gave his first response. Jannick tensed, too, but for a different reason. It was only six months ago that he received his own Blessing in this very hall, when he knelt before Holly and felt the sting of foreign mana as she burned Incepta’s brand over his heart. He averted his eyes as the same happened to Tyler, feeling strangely self-conscious about it all. He hadn’t prayed in years; his vows were the first time in a long time he’d even uttered the Mother’s name - outside of profanity, anyway - and he hadn’t repeated it since. He had plenty of good reasons to doubt Her claims of benevolence and seek his solace elsewhere, but even still, he couldn’t shake a deep, unsettling feeling of unworthiness. It was like the eyes of the Goddess were on him, and he hoped She would look away.

Fortunately, it was all over pretty quickly, and no sooner had the High Cardinal dismissed them than Jannick noticed Holly was gone. He heaved a long sigh, cradling his temple. Honestly, he should thank her - it was a welcome distraction from his thoughts. But the distraction was less of a solemn oath of protection and more of a bad babysitting gig, and his charge was off making very stately and Scion-like work of three cookies that a Templar - wait, really? - had somehow snuck into the ceremony.

Well, whatever. Jannick hadn’t been with Holly long, but he had learned pretty quick that when it came to stuff like this, it was a lot more work to beat her than to join her. Besides, six years as a cop built up habits that were hard to break.

Sidling up next to Holly, Jannick plucked a cookie of his own from the box, giving it an exploratory bite before deciding if it was worth giving Ionna an interesting fact. It passed the test.

“We used to keep the funniest civilian complaints framed in the locker room,” he offered. “My favourite one accused me of using excessive force because I scuffed the suspect’s Weezys.”

---

Fyodor watched the scene unfold before him with mild disinterest. His uniform matched the Templars', albeit his sported none of the trimmings. His eyes were keen on watching the interaction between both Scion and Templar on Time, and he didn't seem happy with it. Tyler's departure and Lucas remaining in place seemed to affirm something to him, but he wouldn't act on it. He didn't seem all too surprised at Ionna's antics, either, only watching with amusement as the young princess eyed the container with bright eyes. Instead, he gave Theobald his full attention when he was approached, but he did seem a touch surprised at the sudden salute. It had been years since he had been saluted by someone who wasn't with the church.

"The pleasure is mine, Your Holiness," He responded in his typical, gruff manner. "I hope your visit so far is to your liking."

Meanwhile, Princess Rosemary had a decision to make. She held herself to the proper stature that a princess of her station should, as was drilled into her head every day by her instructors. But the moment she laid eyes on the container, they seemed entranced as she watched others approach it. She turned to Sonia and immediately tugged on her sleeve. The much taller woman, used to the princess' signals, knelt down swiftly. Rosemary whispered something into her ear, and Sonia gestured for her to go. Once she received confirmation, the young girl bounced towards the small group gathered around Ionna, though she hesitated as she looked at both the Scion and Templar of Wind.

The young girl lifted the skirt of her golden dress and gave them a curtsy. Once she lifted her head, she reached into the container and swiped the first cookie her small hands could grab. "Um...Papa told me that the sky was raining stars when I was born," She offered her interesting fact, letting all of two seconds pass to let her information sink in before immediately biting into the cookie. "What's a 'Weezys'?" She asked after she finished chewing.

Edmund Silvaine

---

Small waves lap up against leather boots, and Edmund's soaked clothes hang on him like weights. His collar feels more constricting than usual, less a snug comfort and more a firm grip. The water is frigid, chilling into his very bones. The river is opaque and impenetrable, and as Edmund takes his first step into it, it feels more resistant to his advance than water normally does. Edmund doesn't feel wet, but his brain is not able to comprehend it. He sees, on the other side of the river, a boat slightly run aground the shallow shore. He sees men in armor approaching the boat, rifles in hand. Edmund takes another step, and he feels something grabbing his leg. The water is too opaque to see anything. Edmund resists, and tries to take another step. Another hand grips his other leg, and begins to pull him down. Then his wrists and hands. Edmund watches in horror as the armored men board the boat. He sees others behind him on the shore, all faceless and wearing the standard Templar armor. He looks back to the ship. He hears a gunshot.

Edmund jolted awake, disoriented. His left hand had instinctively reached for the loaded revolver sitting on the small nightstand next to his bed, the sun's earliest rays just barely peeking in through the cracks in the blinds of his small room. Edmund sighed deeply, catching his shortened breath as he began to parse nightmare from reality. It wasn't a particularly novel nightmare, rather it was one he had suffered somewhat frequently in the past few months. He eyed the guitar resting on a stand an arm's reach away, just past the nightstand. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, grabbing the revolver and safely disengaging the hammer before setting it back down. He then grabbed his guitar, resting it on his knee, as he began to strum a few chords while sleep still clung to the corners of his eyes. He hummed along to the tune for a time, before murmuring, "Why can't I cross this river?" Edmund's hands stopped strumming, and he sat in quiet contemplation for a moment. He wordlessly placed the guitar back on its stand. It was best not to question things too deeply, and just take it as a reminder to not break his vow. He wouldn't let Maya end up like Theodore.

A morning jog along the same route as always helped to clear the mind. He got the same confused glance at the large revolver on his hip from one or two early morning joggers, but most of the regulars made a passing polite wave. Edmund would only nod in acknowledgement, as per usual. He stopped by a small coffee shop near the apartment complex, and the barista just gave a pleasant nod in acknowledgement as Edmund set down a note with Maya's coffee order on it. After a few minutes, the barista called his name, and he picked up the small coffee carrier with four drinks. Three were just black coffees, and one was whatever strange concoction Maya had dreamt up the day before. He knew he might be back in a half-hour or so when Maya awoke and decided it was either made wrong or not what she wanted.

When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, Edmund gave a nod to the two security guards who greeted him. They went to grab the drink carrier, and Edmund took his coffee and Maya's out of it. He set hers on the island in the apartment proper's spacious kitchen, while he went to his own mini-apartment. After a quick shower, he emerged from his own apartment dressed in his full uniform and sipped on his coffee. An itinerary was already printed out and waiting for him in the dining room. He internally groaned as he saw the attached limousine contract. It was going to be one of those kinds of days after all.

Maya, as per usual, was already on her phone the moment Edmund saw her that morning. He hated hearing take after take of the same tired upbeat rambling, and watching Maya tilt and turn her head to check the view of every single angle of her face through her camera killed another infinitesimal fraction of his soul. She always claimed that this was part of the job, and to an extent she was right. But as Edmund sipped his coffee while overlooking the holy city from this penthouse, that small feeling in the pit of his stomach turned over. He wasn't made for this kind of lavish lifestyle. And it was still a couple months until his next camping trip with the Scion of Fire, where he could finally feel that inner peace he was currently missing.

The rest of the day was a blur. Edmund was so wrapped up in listening to security reports, reading over the background checks on the driver and company of the limousine, and taking meaningless pictures for Maya's social media feed that he had forgotten to eat again. Not that he had the appetite to stomach anything as is: he knew already what kind of ceremony he would have to watch today. He had learnt from a young age that the Church was wise and guided by the spirit of the Goddess Incepta, and rarely ever questioned a decision made by them. These days, Edmund hardly even questioned his placement as the Templar of Gravity. But today... today was testing the bounds of Edmund's fealty.

So it was, that when Edmund and Maya stood side by side and watched Tyler Morris the oath-breaker receive his second blessing, Edmund's nails dug into his palms hard enough to leave red marks. His ever-present scowl had a harsher, colder stare to it than usual. When the ceremony ended, and Maya turned to him to make a remark, Edmund's eyes still followed and lingered on Tyler for a moment. “Aw, isn’t it inspiring? I remember when that was you and me up there, don’t you?”

"I pray I will never be so bold as to be blessed twice." His whispering voice was somewhat hoarse, as he realized they were the first set of words he had spoken in hours. He didn't need to look at Maya to tell she was goading him, nor that she had the same fake smile plastered on her face she always did. Regardless, his scowl softened as he turned his gaze towards the others gathered around. He recognized all of them, either having seen their faces in person at the very latest at the last blessing, if not plastered on tv screens during the more church-affiliated news broadcasts. His face softened to a more modest scowl, and only Maya would have been able to recognize the faintest of a twitch of the corner of his lips (the closest he could get to smiling or smirking in his two years of service as her Templar). "One blessing was plenty, your holiness." His fumbling attempt at a sarcastic joke was undercut by the absolute sincerity with which he used the formal term of address towards her.

As Maya stared and watched all the others in attendance, Edmund eyed the Templar of Metal and her box of cookies. His stomach elicited a small growl, and he gave a small sight of defeat. Weber's appearance in the small throng of individuals waylaid any fears that Ionna was only speaking to the Scions. So, Edmund stalked over after a moment of hesitation, giving the young princess a little space as she swiped a cookie. He approached cautiously, the price of an interesting fact weighing on his mind as he tried to clutch at a fact not too graphic to potentially upset the young princess next to him or too mundane to not be worthy of the interaction. His mind drifted to his activities the night before, and he settled on his answer. "I've been re-reading Redcrosse's collection of Sonnets. I find his observations on nature insightful." Believing his elaborative answer to be satisfactory, he took the same type of cookie the young princess Rosemary had taken and returned to his post next to Maya. He broke the sugar cookie in half, biting into the left half to give it a taste. Finding it to be sufficiently sweet, he offered the right half in the direction of his Scion as an offering.

---

The Scion of Shadow had made his summons to Juniperus into something of a vacation. He was traveling with a small entourage this time, only he, his templar, and two other servants had made the journey. He had booked a suite at a luxurious hotel in the area, and had spent the previous days touring around. Mostly he visited holy sites and churches, and he paid his respects to the high cardinal, but there had been some leisure, too. It wasn't his first time in the holy city, but it was such an interesting place that it felt like there was always something new to see. A certain relic had piqued his interest this week - an artifact that was said to have belonged to a scion during the era of war. He had made a small study of it. It was an amazing piece of history, really. Even after so many years, Kasper could still feel the remnants of magic clinging to it. Well, recording his notes and speculations about it was a fine afternoon spent as far as he was concerned, but it wouldn't do to keep Zacharie waiting for him in interminable boredom; so he hadn't returned to the site the next day.

The main event was scheduled for this evening. Kasper made his appearance in great style, wearing a well-fitted formal suit. The fabric was a creamy white, but the top featured elaborate gold embroidery and tassels that hung from his narrow shoulders. His earrings too were gold and amber, matching his famously stunning eyes. On his chest was a large onyx amulet. Symbolically, its glittering darkness identified him as the Scion of Shadow. Kasper was undeniably a beautiful young man in this fine attire; though he had quite a habit of dressing himself to the nines, and the outfit wasn't really so far out of the ordinary for him, all things considered.

The scion was very much at home during the formalities of the ceremony, and he showed the appropriate solemnity throughout. He had taken part in so many ritualistic functions over the years that it was second nature to him. He was always deeply involved with the religion of the goddess these days, whether in study or in practice. Because of that involvement, perhaps, he had genuinely come to enjoy playing his part. He did take a personal interest in the two men at the center of it all - the new Scion of Time and his templar. Watching them interact and apparently tease one another, it was impossible not to trade glances with Zacharie. It hadn't yet been two years since their own ceremony of this kind - Kasper's second. During that affair, he had extended the warmest and most sincere welcome to his new templar. Unlike his former partner, Zacharie was nearly the same age as him, and was a fellow mage. Consequently they had found much to talk about, and were becoming fast friends.

Once the ceremony was complete, Kasper naturally congregated with the other scions. He acknowledged each one of them when they drew near, friendly even to the ones he was less familiar with. He shared his first real interaction with the Scion of Gravity. He looked her up and down with approval. "Why, Maya, what a fabulous dress!" he said, with genuine interest. Its design and its deep purple material were obviously a cut above something that could be produced by the average tailor. "Would you honor me with a photograph together?" The two got together for a moment and he posed with a bright, likeable smile. He agreed to have it sent to one of her people, sure that it'd make a good way to remember the night. Admittedly, he didn't understand much about Maya's Instagram presence, but he knew of it, and he knew that being seen with other famous people would be good for her career. Hopefully this moment would serve as a small gesture of friendship going forward, as he wished nothing but the best for his fellow scions.

To Ionna he said, "You keep your sweets, and I'll keep my secrets," with a mysterious wink. But then he let out a laugh, and the strange tension melted away, and it was clear that it was said in good fun. "Welcome, Ionna. I am Kasper Mirandola. I hope the evening finds you well." He did however take notice of Edmund's fun fact - that he was reading over Kasper's own sonnets. The wave of appreciation that washed over him when anyone took an interest in his works was singular. Though he couldn't acknowledge the compliment outright to maintain secrecy, he flashed a grin at the templar and nodded at his good taste.

The white-haired man was hoping to find a moment to greet the new Scion of Time. But as he was at the center of attention, it took a little while before he got his chance. And even then, not wanting to monopolize his company, he kept it short and to the point. "Congratulations, Prince Lucas. May your new templar be to your liking - I find that makes things go more smoothly." There was obviously a bit of history behind the statement, but it would remain only an implication for now. Then Kasper added, "The Goddess' blessing is strong in you. The mana I felt you wield during the ceremony was quite significant." The remark was high praise coming from him. Being devoted to the study of magic, the subject was never far from his mind; he was rather perceptive when it was involved. There was warmth and curiosity behind his golden eyes when he gazed at Lucas. Everyone was amazed by the powers of the scions, of course. But for Kasper, there was a special awe - he never failed to realize that these sigils were literally the presence of the divine.

---

This event had gotten off to a wonderful start. At least Tyler didn't feel quite so sorry for himself after the gentle reminder that His Highness, the illustrious Prince Lucas, was among his least favorite members of the royal family. Of course, that came with a whole new set of challenges, but the worst they could do was dismiss him from service, and that hardly felt like a punishment these days.

Theodore was laughing at him somewhere.

Tyler rolled his shoulders as he descended further into the cathedral, trying to stretch out the residual sting of the brand across his back. His esteemed peers would likely make only marginally better conversation partners; the Templars doubtlessly had their minds made up about him, likely not in the most positive of lights, and the Scions weren't a bunch that particularly interested him. The giant was trying to get Fyodor's attention, so he was out by sheer proximity. Poppycock, or whatever Weber's little flight risk's name was, had made short work of - seriously, cookies? They couldn't wait the five minutes it would take for them to be paraded off to the festival for some real food?

Their gatekeeper demanded a toll of an interesting fact. Tyler had plenty of those, but most of them were public knowledge and the ones that weren't were definitely not things he should share in the company of a seven year old. Maybe he could cover her ears somehow. As he thought over what to share, he approached and patted the Scion of Light rather brazenly on the head, careful not to disturb the hairdo her retainers probably spent hours fussing over.

"It's a brand of shoe, Your Highness," Tyler explained, if for no other reason then to spare someone else the indignity. It was no use; it was too quiet in here to get anything racy out, she'd just hear it through his hands. Plus he'd have Sonia chasing him across the pews and if he was going to catch a lecture from the commander, it'd be because he flipped Prince Lucas over his shoulder, not because he had to wrestle some one-eyed she-brute off him. Edmund's confession took a bit of the edge off - the Relicuos interrogators couldn't have gotten that out of him - but he was still coming up blank. Right, it was supposed to be for the new Templar's benefit anyway.

"Coincidentally enough, I own a pair. Bought 'em to be funny. Not uncomfortable, but you can get better shoes for the price point." Tyler reached for his chocolatey reward and promptly absconded with it, though the sight of the Scion of Shadow posing with Scion Maya gave him pause. Clicking his tongue, he stepped pointedly around Edmund and stopped before Maya.

"Your Holiness, it's been far too long," he greeted and raised an arm, as if in anticipation of a hug, "I was planning my social media re-debut for the ceremony, but I think I just missed my chance." His quirked his head toward Kasper, who was either enthralled with his picture or trying to figure out what an email was from whatever archaic century he was stuck in. "Man of the hour and I don't even get in the best pictures, it's a tragedy."

---

mentioning @Hero

---

Justinian had always adored the Millenium Festival most of all the events his position demanded him to attend. Weddings and the confirmations of Scion's were very samey affairs, if important, but the festival was always something new. Juniperus seemed to truly come alive with the sights and sounds, a fairy tale that he'd only dreamed of attending when he was a small lad, watching it all a dirty tv screen with his friends. They had even pretended to be the various Scions of the time, leaping into action due to a Secret Kaudian raid or monster attack or some such nonsense that children come up with.

Yet all Justinian had felt throughout today was a sinking pit in his stomach that turned and coiled inside him like an angry viper. His pre-game vlog to his followers had been lethargic and dreary, his preparation reluctant, and his mood outside of the public eye was one filled with biting remarks and sour looks. Bianca had been on the recieving end of a few of those, though he had come to his senses enough to apologize before the ceremony begun in earnest. But that didn't make the viper stop squriming and biting at his gut, filling him with a stining poison he couldn't quite identify. Anger? Sadness? Frustration? Maybe all of them, maybe none of them. All he did know was that it didn't feel like there was much worth celebrating when it comes to the second blessing of a Templar.

What a farce, The Scion scoffs under his breath, unknowingly mirroring the thoughts of the man who held his scorn.

His posture was rigid as watched the proceedings of the blessing, rolling his eyes as the Princling's sparkling personality put itself on full display. Honestly, maybe they were perfect for each other. Neither seemed capable of holding their tongue if they thought it had something clever to say.

"Such a shining example of Royal pedigree. How Incepta must be proud." *Justinian mutters to Bianca as he adjusts his suit for what was likely the fifth time in as many minutes. It was fine tailored if somewhat drab affair, at least to the bejeweled abominations that he was often seen with when he felt like grabbing attenion. Grey coat over a black vest and tie that both sported a dull amber trim. Humming beneath it all was the shimmering glow of the Mother's mark, as it had been since the day he recieved it. Some thought it a vanity, but in turth he had fogotten what it was like to not have the Incepta's gift flowing through him and it's presence often gave him comfort in trying times.

"So. . . penny for your thoughts?" It wasn't what he really wanted to say. He wanted to leave and be done with today, but he knew that neither the church nor Bianca would let him simply walk away from his duties. More than that, he knew that he had to suck it up and do his duty. A Scion was to be an inspiration to the poeple, so he couldn't let his mess of muddled thoughts show anymore than they already did. So, while he worked on getting those emotions in order, he'd pass the time with small talk with the one person he didn't have to put on a mask for. Bianca planted his ass into the dirt more times than he could count, so there was no need to try and save face around her. It was refreshing, sometimes. Other times, he wish he didn't remember the taste of grit whenever she started glaring at him. "That newbie templar seems funny? Why don't you chat with her, get a cookie. You deserve a cheat day."

This was going to be a long night.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lucas let out a long, quiet exhale. The pressure in his head was building up quicker than expected and he was pretty sure a nasty headache was coming. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home and lie down. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible; he was pretty sure if he just collapsed, they'd just have some priests drag him along and hold up his unconscious body. The Millenial Ceremony was going to take about an hour, followed by the sermon, then there was whatever crap the high cardinal would speak of, then his own debut, then the after party where he was going to have to get swarmed by a multitude of people expressing shock that he was Theo's inheritor.

Lucas dropped his hand and straightened up, relegating himself to just watching everyone. He didn't feel sociable on a good day, let alone now, so he figured he'd let his reputation keep most away and he could just lean on a wall counting down the minutes until he could sit down. He accidentally made eye contact with the Rosarian princess, not missing that she was glaring daggers at him. He threw her a wink, getting a little too much satisfaction out of her huffing and turning away from him. What'd he do to piss this one off again? He couldn't for the life of him remember, but unfortunately, his plan to stand around and do nothing was interrupted because Incepta was determined to make sure every single day of his Scionhood was one eternal headache.

The one that had boldy approached him was...the Scion of Shadow, if he recalled correctly. Lucas actually hadn't had a lot of interactions with a majority of the Scions or Templars here sans Tyler--and outside of Theo, he couldn't even say he really knew Tyler all that well, either. This one was Kaspar Mirandola, if he remembered right. He had a good eye for mana, it seemed. Or was he just kissing his ass? Yeah, Lucas was tired, he was usually better at ascertaining this sort of thing.

He watched Tyler interact with...fuck, what was her name again? Mary? It was on the tip of his tongue. Oh well, it wasn't important right this second. He looked back at Kaspar instead, figuring now was as good a time as ever to make some attempt at socializing and praying he wasn't going to have any conversations that required thought or effort. No, too much effort, he was going to have to gauge whether the guy was worth it.

"I've been known to leave people walking in pain after I'm done with them," He replied casually. "Morris is experienced, already has a handle on his magic, and was cleared of any wrongdoings. I'm already looking forward to breaking him in."

If the guy didn't go running for the hills after that, then he'd consider a full conversation.

---

---

Bianca liked being busy. It meant she was able to use her skills and pass the time in fruitful ways--security detail, making sure Justinian didn't cook up any new escape routes, taking steps to ensure that the day's schedule was followed to the letter. She lived for that sort of stuff, loving the feeling of having a day of accomplishment and going to bed satisfied. She was actually looking forward to the festival, and even if she couldn't participate in celebrating with the other commoners, it was still nice to play her part and admire the citizenry from afar. After all, her duty came above her own personal desires, and her charge did a phenomenal job at keeping her on her toes.

So today he surprised her. Sure, there was the occasional glare and comment, but it was a lot more tame than what she expected. His apologies made it clear that he was feeling a lot of things today. The replacement of a Scion wasn't exactly new, but Theodore Estora's circumstances had been different. The man had disappeared and was presumably murdered, it wasn't exactly an elder passing away peacefully like a majority of Scions did in modern times. That alone was enough to disturb any good person, but Justinian likely felt more sorrowful over the loss of someone he probably saw as a friend. Incepta knew how many times she had to physically stop him from making some hairbrained attempt at searching for Theodore when it was announced he had gone missing.

That said, the blessing ceremony had always fascinated her. It was common knowledge that Scions blessed their Templars, but it was never truly the same. Every Scion was different, every Templar was different, and each one had their own power, their own motivation. She wondered if Sir Tyler felt some kind of way since it was the second time he was going through it. The thought made her sad; she hoped it wasn't too difficult for him. Well, at least he was back in the Templar group chat, maybe she could reach out at some point to see how he was handling everything. Or was that too condescending of her?

Justinian didn't seem impressed with the new Scion of Time. Not that Bianca blamed him--she had heard nothing good about the prince. He was notoriously rude and a womanizer, which often confused her because weren't most womanizers charming? He seemed cold and uncaring, and she felt that he saw himself above them, contrary to how humble Scions should be. She couldn't help but frown--regardless of Sir Tyler's failure, having such a charge was arguably more punishing than just being dismissed.

At his question, she shrugged. "I think that Sir Tyler will have his work cut out for him," She admitted quietly. "They make an interesting duo." It wasn't really kind to say as much, but she was sincerely worried for the pair.

She did, however, shake her head at Justinian's suggestion of a cheat day. She didn't get to look as good as she did eating sweets, that was for sure. "There will be plenty to gorge on once we get an actual meal, Your Holiness," She reminded him gently. "And yes, Dame Ionna is certainly...unique." Oh dear, that was the second time she was making insinuations, she really needed to be more careful.

---

Sara quietly follower Theobald towards Commander Fyodor and offered a salute as well. At least that was something she and her Scion had in common; they both respected the old leader. The thought had crossed her mind to ask Fyodor for reassignment due to the tension between herself and Theobald, but she knew this was an impossible request if she wished to remain a Templar as Templars served until death (their own or their Scion's) or until they stepped down from being Templars. And it wasn't like any of the other Scion's didn't already have their Templars. Even if that were the case, Scions were celebrities, and any such reassignment would surely be the topic of gossip and speculation. Though working with Theobald was difficult, there was no need to broadcast that to the whole world. Besides, Sara saw that, underneath it all, Theobald was a good man; he was just hung up on his ambitions and prejudices.

Sara lamented the fact that this room seemed to be filled with Scions who were sick and tired of their Templars and vice versa and allowed their displeasure to be apparent on their faces and demeanor. What happened to duty? What happened to professionalism? What happened to putting one's own personal feelings aside for the greater good? Perhaps this was what the older sisters referred to as the 'deterioration of faith'. In the modern age, each person saw themselves as increasingly important, saw only their own struggles while ignoring those of others, and lost their sense of community and sense of responsibility to others. Sara shook her head and smiled; this had nothing to do with modernity, or social media, or technology; people were like this in whatever era. The 'young people these days' would grow up to say the same thing about their children. It wasn't about 'the times', it was about youth, experience, and maturity, a cycle that every individual had to go through and would be criticized for by the previous generation who 'knew better'. They will learn and they will grow in time; there was no need to be impatient.

Looking around the room, Sara smiled at Ionna's 'stunt'. At least someone was trying to get along with others, and bringing sweets was a good start, though Sara did not partake, choosing to remain at Theobald's side for the time being. Besides, it's possible that whatever Theobald wished to speak with the commander about may be important. However, Sara's gaze wandered to the young princess. While Sara had been around children for most of her life, she had been surrounded by poor children and didn't know how to act around a rich one, let alone the princess herself. Though Sara believed that all children ultimately had the same wants and desires, she saw Rosemary like a delicate vase; best keep her distance lest some neurotic butler accuse her of 'daring to approach' such a 'fragile piece'. After all, Sara was Kaudian.

---

Maya was a little disappointed that Edmund didn’t take her bait, but not surprised; what did surprise her was that he actually tried to crack a joke, although it fell flat when he stumbled over his own unfailing fealty to her. She got a hint of satisfaction from that, as she always did, but if Maya didn’t know better - which, at this point, she wasn’t sure if she did - she’d think Edmund was showing off. Not that wearing his knightly honour like a medal was out of the ordinary for him, but he normally saved those underhanded little jabs for her. It was refreshing enough to see Edmund’s judgemental gaze fixed on different targets that Maya decided to let him off the hook for being so mopey. For now.

At any rate, that was more of a rise than she’d gotten out of him in quite some time, and she’d take what she could get. Besides, she supposed it wouldn’t do to have her Templar casting a shroud over the night’s proceedings - her followers were astute observers, and they always pointed out when something in her photos was off, no matter how heavy the filter. That, and it would probably bum the other Scions out, but Maya cared somewhat less about that. A lot of them seemed like they were in Edmund’s boat anyway, if the glowing orange twink sulking in the corner was any indication.

Edmund wandered off, and with his oppressive presence gone, Kasper approached, bringing the best possible tribute with him - a compliment.

“Kasper, you’re sly with your flattery,” Maya gently teased, stretching up to kiss his cheek in a customary Doumercène greeting he’d be familiar with. She slipped into her genial persona like a well-fitting glove, smiling warmly at Kasper. “But you’re going to upstage all of us. Truly stunning - I’d expect nothing less.” She winked.

She eagerly agreed to the photo, clinging playfully to Kasper’s arm for the shot. By the time the night was done, she expected a photo with every one of the other Scions - with the possible exception of Princess Rosemary, whose growling dog might keep her away - and Kasper was the ideal place to start. He was rapidly becoming one of her favourite contemporaries: agreeable, popular with the masses, but importantly, stayed in his lane. Better still, he didn’t stick around to chat; truly ideal, in Maya’s opinion. Hi, bye, don’t forget a selfie. Incredible. Why couldn’t all the other Scions be like him?

Edmund returned as Kasper departed, having procured a cookie in his absence. Maya eyed the proffered half incredulously. Did someone replace Edmund while she wasn’t looking? She didn’t realize he even knew what sweets were, let alone that he was bold enough to eat one in the innermost sanctum of the Cathedra Incepta. What was it he’d called it? The bosom of the Goddess? Maya nearly laughed as she wondered if Incepta appreciated her Templars getting crumbs in her cleavage.

Damn, if Edmund was like this all the time, maybe she’d like him better. Sweet-sneaking Templar was a much more pleasant vibe than stern Sunday School teacher. Still, the secondhand embarrassment wafting off the Templar who brought the cookies was too strong for Maya, and she declined, albeit more politely than Edmund was used to; he had earned that, at least, if his little peace offering indicated that he was going to chill the fuck out for the evening.

Just then, Sir Tyler approached with familiar greetings for her, and Maya had to quickly rack her brain for exactly how she and the Templar of Time knew each other. They’d definitely met, but was it more than just in passing? There’d been a few blessing ceremonies, a funeral - oh! Right! Duh, Theodore had invited her to his estate early in her Scionhood to discuss the Larme Incident at length, and they’d met a few times since to discuss his plans for peace with Kaudus. Maya had always thought he was a bit of an idealistic idiot on that front, both for seeking peace with a nation of godless savages and for thinking she’d have anything more sophisticated than that to say on the matter, but Tyler had always been pretty pleasant. More notably, he was the one responsible for a lot of unflattering pictures of Theodore on social media, and that was definitely worth entertaining him for.

“Far too long, Tyler,” Maya agreed excitedly. Her mischievous streak, which had so recently been quelled, flared up again when she saw Tyler’s offer of a hug, and she took it, glancing provocatively at Edmund before disengaging.

At the mention of a picture, her smile brightened, but her eyes took on a dangerous glint. “Oh my goodness, we’ll have to fix that! Edmund,” she called sweetly, producing her phone from a fold in her dress and offering it to her Templar. She took Tyler’s arm, looking to Edmund expectantly. “Would you take a picture of us, please?”

---

Edmund Silvaine

---

Edmund gave a curt nod when Maya had rejected the second half of the cookie, choosing to quickly finish it in a few bites. He gave a small sign of blessing to the goddess as he finished it aimed towards the altar, as a sign of thanks. He had seen Kasper pose for a selfie with Maya: he always preferred when he wasn't involved in her self-glorifying rituals. Though, she had not scolded him for offering her such a high-calorie snack, so perhaps she was turning over a new leaf for the dawn of a new year. Edmund certainly wouldn't mind that. Though, of course, he was a fool for thinking she would change so easily.

"Your Holiness, it's been far too long..."

The moment Tyler stepped around him and approached Maya, his blood momentarily ran cold. He stared at the back of his head with a sneer, before his eyes darted to Maya for a moment. He saw her mischievous grin. He regretted believing for a moment she had grown kind. “Oh my goodness, we’ll have to fix that! Edmund, would you take a picture of us, please?”

Edmund, almost robotically, grabbed the phone and easily unlocked it. He opened the camera app, switching over to the "Pro" mode and made a few adjustments to the ISO, color temperature, and shutter speed. He hated that he knew the correct numbers to punch in with one glance at the lighting in the room. He always played it off as if he was trying to find the correct app, lest Maya learn he had dedicated 2 months of his evening to an online photography class about a year ago, after many complaints on how bad his photography skills were. Nonetheless, Edmund lifted the phone stiffly, adjusting the focus and framing up the two of them appropriately. He looked awkward and uncomfortable as he tapped the screen a few times, tilting and moving the camera to give Maya a few alternatives to choose from. His focus on the camera diminished his scowl as he lost himself in the focus of completing his task. Once it was complete, he locked the phone and extended it towards Maya again. He turned his gaze towards Tyler briefly, trying not to let the disgust reach his eyes as he looked him over again. He kept his mouth shut, as the only words that came to mind would displease the goddess.

Domina, da fortitudinem mihi.

---

addressing: Bianca@Hero, Ionna@McMolly, Jarrick@Obscene Symphony

---

"Certainly a word for it." Justinian response was a bit muted he glances at Kasper, who had gone over to engage the Prince, debating with himself for a few seconds until a sigh broke through. With reservation, he reaches into his pocket to pull out a palm sized chunk of light blue rock. It's surface was yet unworked and cloudy as he rubbed his thumb against it, yet he could already feel the shape within call out to him. He wonders, as always, if it was just a creative instinct, an aspect of his connection to the element, or perhaps even the Mother's own that provided him with the inisghts that always came when he prepared to shape crystal. "This'll probably be for nothing but if I'm here, might as well try to cross the bridge before I burn it. Who knows, maybe there's a heart of tarnished gold beneath all the attitude."

His dry tone did little to sell the optimism as he started to make his way over to the Prince present his gift, though not before making a detour towards the Rookie Templar and her plate of contraband confections. Whatever Bianca said, it wasn't like a single cookie was going to ruin his appetite and he'd rather encourage the girl. Between Edmund and Tyler, having a Templar capable of some non-jaded levity was a blessing from Incepta herself. He'd have likely been chatting up a storm with her if not for his own foulness.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Dame Ionna. Justinian Gardner, Scion of Earth." Any signs of his mood was wiped from his face as he mingled with Ionna and those around her, snatching one of each type with his left hand while his right held a dull amber shimmer as he willed it into the shape it wanted, like a desert mirage. Something smooth? No, not for the Prince. His wit was sharp and his attitude abrassive. The design shifts in his mind, the crystal in his palm cracking and reforming and shifting his grip like a living thing. "As for an interesting fact, I nearly managed to kill a Rodian Warg by the border of Lorenzia back before Bianca became my Templar. Left a nasty scar too, but Commander Fyodor will prob have my hide if I try to show it off. Congratulations on your appointment and take good care of Dominika, yeah? She seems the nervous type."

Giving Ionna friendly tap on the shoulder with the cookie hand, the Scion turns to address Jannick and Holly(assuming the later hadn't vanished off to who knows where again, a trick he had long envied).

"Speaking of congratulations, it's nice to meet you too, Sir Jarrick. I see that you've adapted well to Holly's habit of being where ever food is."

---

Though on some level, he had expected such a response, Theobald couldn't help but clench the fist at his side when he heard the Commander's form of address towards him. His brows lightly pressed together, his continually serious expression somewhat tense as he lowered his saluting hand, the words he wished to say formed on the tip of his tongue and only held back by the determination to continue interpreting the leader of the Templars as someone with command over him.

His hero did not see his medals, nor his uniform, nor the respect in his gaze.

All Commander Fyodor saw was the Scion of Fire.

Rather than say something that would break the chain of command, as while they may be equals in theory their military ranks were a divide apart, the former Rodion soldier turned towards the bustling crowd of people. Unable to meet his hero's gaze, the large man cleared his throat to keep his emotions in check while he replied, "These formal engagements do not suit me, Commander. I feel more at ease trekking through trenches among comrades rather than standing stiffly among the nobility."

Theobald sighted the growing group of Scions and their Templars, gathering in what seemed to be three distinct groups, with one engaged in greeting the new Scion of Time, another his re-admitted Templar while the other was... indulging in a box of sweets? It was shameful that many of their names were lost to the former soldier, but he could at least match most of their faces to their station, and of the few he could actually recognize he thought it amusing that Edmund was humoring his Scion and her love for pictures despite his apparent discomfort. The giant did not remember the face of the young woman who brought the confectionaries, a Templar so recent they’d never even crossed paths, but he certainly recognized the technology that replaced her arm. His eyes narrowed, knowing the lives that had been sacrificed to keep such a marvel under wraps, only to be on display for every known nation under Estora's banner to get an eyeful practically for free.

And, as his glare slowly drifted toward the woman by his side, even those from foreign powers. For once, he actually acknowledged the presence of his own Templar outside of her attempts to keep him bound to the church, grunting to catch her attention before gesturing in the general direction of the congregating Scions and Templars with a flick of his head. "Leave us. You have no need to watch over me here."

He wouldn't attempt escape with so many eyes on the event, and with his hand patting the sheathed weapon at his side, he made it clear that he could protect himself should something disrupt the festivities. Expecting her to leave him be, Theobald once again ignored her presence as he moved his attention back to the Commander, his emotions settled enough to feel comfortable speaking with him some more. It felt a bit strange, needing to look down upon one's source of ambition due to their difference in stature, and so he subconsciously lowered his head and shoulders a half inch as he addressed the warhero.

"What is the status of the investigation, sir?" He made a very overt glance toward the Scion of Time, making it clear that there could be only one sort of investigation he was discussing. The death of Theodore Estora continued to be the biggest unsolved mystery in the continent, an event unprecedented in modern times. For a Scion to go missing was thought to be unthinkable, and to die during such time even more so.

Which is why, knowing that the Kaudus Empire was believed to be the most likely suspect, the Scion of Fire thought it prudent to get his foot in the door to deal with the issue as soon as possible, his voice becoming low so that others would not hear his request. "If manpower is required, I can offer assistance in taking down the perpetrators of the incident. Dealing with the troops of 'external threats' is my specialty."

He didn't expect to be accepted, knowing full well how much Scions were cradled by the church and how unwilling they were to even think of putting them in harm's way. But perhaps the Commander, as a man who experienced war and understood that there are moments that required a gamble or sacrifice to proceed, would be willing to see the potential merits of the former soldier's inclusion and allow him to escape his faux-confinement.

But if he were to be honest with himself, the idea of working alongside his childhood hero sparked his interest far more than simply returning to a battlefield. If Commander Fyodor were to simply allow him to shadow the legend for but a moment, to peek behind the curtain and observe with his own eyes how a warhero conducts his business, the large man would be content enough to be compliant with the church for a few months. An entire year, even.

---

Zach found he quite enjoyed his time in Juniperus. Normally travel meant more work for him; unfamiliar locales and a smaller security detail necessitated more vigilance than usual, even if Kasper were to spend the entirety of the trip sequestered in his room. Which, of course, he didn't, since the point of travel was usually to experience the place that they have travelled to, even if they had come for business reasons. That meant constant motion and changing venues and no time to ensure an area was secure before they moved on to the next destination. Not that he necessarily minded - Kasper hardly liked to dance with danger on a knife's edge, occasional disappearing act aside, and Zach was reasonably sure his presence alone would be enough to handle any potential threats, but it grew taxing on extended trips all the same.

The Holy City held less of that element of unpredictability. All ten Scions were either lodged in the city or soon would be, and the Church surely had security on high alert. The knights were out in force and Zach assumed there were eyes on him and his Scion at all times, even if he wasn't privy to them. It helped that Kasper spent the majority of his time in Juniperus at sacred sites and Church institutions, there was always a knight presence nearby and little chance of an incident besides. It was still a bit strange to him to stand in a church with the sole objective to figuratively beat back the crowd every time the Scion of Shadow made an appearance rather than any of his previous duties, but it gave him a chance to chat with the clergy while Kasper enthused himself with whatever piece of history had caught his eye.

Likewise, on the day of the Millennial Festival, Zach practically felt like an accessory on Kasper's outfit rather than a true bodyguard. The Cathedra Incepta likely had better security than most military installations at that moment, and that was before the Scions and their Templars came into play. Without a role to play, Zach took his place dutifully at his Scion's side and tried not to fuss with the collar of his uniform too much during the ceremony. It had been tailored excellently, but he still disliked the militaristic rigidity of it compared to his old robes. Though, with the way most in attendance glared up at the altar, he almost felt as though he could strip naked right then and there without anyone noticing. Sir Tyler's re-appointment was certainly a choice, but not one Zacharie particularly cared to comment on. He wasn't privy to the circumstances of the last Scion of Time's demise, and Mother knows he'd lost track of Kasper a few times himself; any judgment on his part would be hypocrisy at best.

Once the new Scion of Time pinched his Templar's cheek, Zach had a whole new set of judgments to make anyway. Kasper even shot him a sly glance at that, to which he responded with a shrug and an awkward grin. If the event kept up like this, they might just make a gossiping schoolgirl out of him by the end of the night. Doubly so when, after the ceremony's conclusion, Kasper made a beeline for Maya Desrosiers of all people. He made a mental note to talk to her Templar before the festival was over to ask how he wanted the picture sent, in anticipation that he'd probably be the one managing that.

When Kasper turned down the red-haired Templar's offer of a treat, Zach felt obligated to respond in kind. "I'll have to decline as well," he said with a respectful bow of his head, "Never was very good at those icebreaker things." The visor was usually enough of a conversation starter anyway, and appearances usually overshadowed whatever benign factoid he could muster as a first impression anyway, in his experience.

He didn't follow as his Scion approached the prince by the altar, and the bits of their conversation he picked up told him he'd made the right choice. Zach cleared his throat uncomfortably and tugged at his visor as he tried to fight off his instinct to keep his eyes on Kasper and turned his attention elsewhere. Had His Highness meant for that to be so... crass?

Shame he'd already declined the cookie.

"Dame Ionna, if you don't find it invasive or objectionable, might I ask about that arm of yours? I've never had the pleasure of witnessing anything like it before." Magitech was quickly becoming an area of interest for him, ever since a Church engineer slapped a fancy looking blindfold across his face and suddenly the world was more vivid than it had been for him in years, though he still understood little about the nuances of it.

---

@Olive Fontaine@Mcmolly

---

Ionna was dizzy with glee. She had hoped at least one or two would come by, and perhaps quietly mumble a greeting then take a cookie, eschewing the question—not that she would have enforced it anyway. But that worry was immediately assuaged when Hollyhock offered not one but three little tidbits about herself. One seemed fairly obvious, after all, being the Wind Scion it ought to be expected she’d have an affinity for the breeze, but that didn’t make it any less interesting. Besides, she had a feeling the last fact was the most important, and made a note to triple the chocolate in part of her next batch.

Her Templar joined them, tentative in his decision, but ultimately he made the trade. He seemed tired, like many of their colleagues, but she didn’t think for a second that he was any slower for it. She would have savored the interaction, maybe even tried to broach her first coworker conversation, but she was immediately silenced by the approach of the crown princess and Scion of Light herself, Rosemary Veradis, and it took a great deal of self-control not to drop the container outright.

Instead, she accepted the princess’s fact with a quiet smile, and hoped that Dame Gusev, who was doubtlessly watching, couldn’t see her sweat.

Sir Edmund approached, much to her continued surprise. He offered his own fact, which she found delightfully surprising for someone so outwardly gruff, and she gave him a grateful nod as he took half of his cookie back to Her Holiness Maya, who must have been saving herself for a proper meal.

Another unexpected face followed in Sir Morris, though he was there and gone just as quickly, reward in hand. She would have liked to chat with him, but now probably wasn’t the time, and frankly she probably wasn’t the person. Today was meant to be happy, officially, but she couldn’t blame him for seeing it otherwise. She hoped he found a little joy mingling with the others, at least.

The earthen Scion joined them right after, and while she might have thought him in a dour mood as well, he seemed suddenly alight. His little fact pried a giggle out of her, at the idea of Fyodor watching one of the holy Scions show off a scandalous scar, and while she nodded gratefully at his congratulations, she made no comment about Dominika. It was true, her Scion was perhaps a little bit…anxious, but really, who wouldn’t be? Being blessed as she was, and all of them were only human, really. It seemed perfectly normal to be overwhelmed.

The Scion of shadow came and went like a pleasant breeze, welcoming her without trade, but she didn’t mind. He had a nice laugh and a kind face; perhaps next time she could offer conversation instead.

His Templar lingered, though refused a treat as well. He was an interesting looking fellow, a mage by appearance, visor and all. She hadn’t seen them often growing up, and so she worried her staring might come off as rude, rather than fascinated. As it turned out however, the feeling was mutual. Funnily enough, hardly anyone had asked her about the arm since she’d arrived—which had actually been something of a relief. She dreaded the thought of getting something wrong, and even though she could use the thing as naturally as her own flesh and blood, she would have been hopeless with the mechanics.

Still, she wasn’t about to turn away good company!

“Oh! Not at all!” she said, shifting the box of treats to free her metal arm. With its gilded casing it fit nicely into the Templar’s ensemble, and in the grooves at the wrist and elbow, and in the joints of her fingers, there were faint striations of arcane light. “My dad made it, I’m just sorta the pilot. I couldn’t tell you the schematics or anything, but, I do know it takes a lot of fine mana manipulation. I’ve been doing that forever though, so it kinda just feels like…uhm…an arm! Except it doesn’t sting when I bang my funnybone on something.”

She offered the box back to him again. “That’s my lil’ fact, but I already got to finish off the cookie dough this morning, so you can have mine if you want it! Actually, if you don’t find it…ah, invasive or objectionable either, I haven’t seen those visors around much! What’s it, y’know, like? Can you see through walls? Does it have internet? It definitely looks cool!”

---

@Scribe of Thoth