Knights Apocalyptica

Chapter 18: Soirée

We have been reborn by Her Holy Flames.

It is through Her we weathered this assault on our world.

Through Her we gain Vigor.

By Her will we Perceive.

For Her we are Cognizant.

Our Agility was given to achieve Her purpose.

We see the lines of fate with our Psyche through Her.

We witness the Mysticism of this new world and form it in Her image.

To Her we owe Faith.

To Her we devote our Strength.

It is Her will that we should reconquer that which is ours, and take that which is not.

- Unknown, Doctrine Of The Holy Flames (1, 3rd Era)

Erec’s father didn’t come back that day, and as the hours slipped into the ‘night,’ his father remained gone. Not that it was uncommon or unexpected. During construction on new bio-caverns, the supervisor would often sleep at the work site in case a major complication arose.

Yet it hurt. Erec knew he’d be joining the Academy after his conversation with the Duke; he could’ve looked his dad in the eyes and shared that he, too, would become a Knight. Not just Bedwyr, but him as well.

But no, that information wouldn’t get shared, so he kept it locked away. At some point, Baron Jeswald or someone else would tell Lac that his son joined the Academy. With no choice, Erec dismissed the pain as another thing to forget and move past. He packed a case full of some clothing and a couple of trinkets he’d bring to his new life. He made sure to tuck away the last letter his mother left deep within to keep it safe.

Once accepted to the Academy tomorrow, he would come back for his things and move out that day. There wasn’t any reason to linger here, even if a new initiate was permitted three full days before required attendance.

After packing, Erec wrote a letter to Baron Jeswald—sharing his gratitude for his job in the bio-caverns. It also included the location of the Markos II. Along with another note that officially granted the Baron access to his financial accounts until he’d paid back damages inflicted on the Armor. A few month's stipends from the Academy should pay the debt off.

He’d say as much to the Baron tomorrow when he met Garin at their property. They planned to take the elevator and head to the ceremony together. Preemptively authorizing his accounts to cover the debt would save the Baron any headache. He owed the man a lot, and the man was his best friend’s father.

Would Garin have a spot? And if so, in what Order? Rodren too? Had they all proved themselves apt in the field, despite how grossly they’d been set up to fail? Those questions would dwell until tomorrow.

VAL floated around his home and then eventually came to a lazy hover in front of Erec at the table. Tea was brewing, and his head kept swimming over what-ifs and how to fulfill his vow to the Duke. Despite being so driven for so long, when finally presented with the thing he’d craved, he didn’t know how to let himself relax and enjoy it. There was a sort of emptiness that sank deep in him as he considered the future and what he knew he had to do.

[Query. This is the conclusion of your goal, correct?]

“Yeah, I’ve reached what I set out to do.”

[Very well done, Intern. It is vital to set goals and hold yourself accountable. But once a goal has been achieved, a new one must be defined. It is through this process that the mind does not become stagnant, that you can then continue to learn and grow. Have you pictured what comes next?]

“I’m going to become a great Knight. I’ll outdo Bedwyr. Then I’ll step past him and do what he can’t; I’ll find our mother.”

[Goals updated. I expect great progress; otherwise, you will not receive a favorable performance review come the end of the year.]

Erec spent the night alone in his old home, nursing a pot of pine needle tea and wondering just how much he’d miss the life that he’d worked so hard to leave behind.

— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

Garin and Erec arrived at the Academy on the morning of the ceremony. They first approached the massive entrance to the castle-like structure in the middle for the first time. This was the heart of the campus, where their futures would be decided and forged through hard work.

Passing through the entrance hall, one might see all of the most renowned Knights. Heroes who defined what humanity was capable of. The idols who’d pressed back against a hostile world and shined as beacons of what the greatest among them could be. They dedicated this area to statues honoring those long past. While Sir Boldwick may claim heroes didn’t exist, the Academy shouted the opposite message.

The strife of this world was the reason why heroes existed.

Even this early, the flow of nobles and would-be-initiates pulled them to the great hall like a river. Those that had gone the entire length of the trial were filtering in. Very early this morning, they’d returned, racked their Armor, and then swapped into formal wear for the ceremony.

Erec wore much the same as he did the night before—the jacket that belonged to his father, then his brother, and now him. The last in a too-long line of owners; once he had his military formals, the outdated formal wear would burn a tragic death in a scorching fire.

Garin, in contrast, was wearing a stylish and modern outfit.

Despite his rank as a Baron’s son, his friend had a keen interest in keeping up with the highest of fashion—he wore a silk dress shirt with too-big cuffs that flared out in ruffles at the end. Along with a jacket without sleeves and a done-up collar with that same ruffled texture. Entirely too fanciful.

Erec hated to admit that Garin cut a dashing figure. Yet, he had to. Based on the looks Garin received from many of the Ladies and Dames they passed, his friend’s obsession with the current trends paid dividends.

Garin flashed Erec a grin and set a hand on his shoulder as they reached the waiting room. Over the course of the following three hours, this place would fill with more of the trial’s challengers. Already serving staff circulated with drinks and hors d'oeuvres as a reward for those that made it through.

Keeping the potential initiates separated from the rest of the nobility served the purpose of organizing them for the ceremony. But it had a secret goal. It forced their would-be-initiates to start forming bonds.

This was a thinly veiled offshoot of a soirée. Erec tugged at his collar as Garin’s eyes tracked the groups already forming at the social gathering. I despise this sort of thing.

He’d been lucky, with their status as a house, the only social events he’d ever been invited to were the Baron's.

“Why so stiff? C’mon, buddy. We made it, finished the trial, and killed a bunch of bugs! You should be smiling right now.” Garin met someone’s eyes and shot them a wink.

“The ceremony can’t come quick enough.”

“See, I get that. You constantly work; honestly, sometimes you work too hard. Now and again, you need to cut back and enjoy life. There’s no point otherwise, right? So—just tag along with me. If you don’t want to talk to anyone, that’s fine with me. I’ll do the talking for both of us. But what’s important is to start forging new connections and be seen—“ Garin tilted his head towards a bit of a smaller group forming in the corner. Rodren was among them and chatting rather happily. “See? This place is filled with our future classmates. They’ll be sitting in our lectures all year long. They might drive you forward in ways you’d never expect.”

Erec nodded begrudgingly and then let Garin take the lead. They, of course, stopped by a table serving glasses of wine and Erec took a cup of red. He wouldn’t drink too much, but a little would go a long way towards working through the time it took to get to the ceremony.

Besides, seeing his friend so happy made him nervous. The Duke guaranteed Erec a spot in an Order. But what of Garin? What of Rodren? Both of them he hoped to see up there too.

What if Garin didn’t make it?

Group after group, Garin dragged him through and made introductions. Nobles, commoners, and even merchant's offspring. So many names and faces that they began to blend together. Garin would make a pithy joke; after about ten minutes, they'd say goodbye and flow ever onward to a new group of people.

“So, then this crazy bastard shoved his hand right through the damn queen! Eggs were flying everywhere so fast I thought he’d spawned a whole new army of the awful things!” Garin gave an easy laugh, echoed by the gaggle of nobles in the latest group.

One of them wore a straight expression through the story, tilting his head as he shifted his eyes to Erec. Even though it was a story about him—one that Garin already told a variation of once—the intensity of the stare threw him off. “He’s one of the two that had a Markos model if I remember correctly.” The boy said in a cold tone.

Garin cleared his throat and gave the stranger a winning smile. “Sure is, isn’t that right, Erec?”

“Yeah. The abdomen is a weak point on the queens, I lost my hatchet shoving it off me, so I had to make do with what I had. I held my fingers straight, and took the plunge. It was either that or have it jump back on me and leave me in a worse position.” Erec said.

“Admirable. You identified a weak point, and then you acted definitively. I’d heard the thrashing mites didn’t make any noise during the assault. Is this true?” The boy had stark black hair and blue eyes; he was the definition of calm, to the point where it felt forced. The boy dressed as finely and in the same fashion as Garin, yet with a more refined and less outward slant, as far as one could dial it back, given the rather flashy nature of the court’s fashion.

“No, they were completely quiet. No noise, aside from reacting to pain. Where did you get that information?”

The black haired boy shrugged. “Tales are carried far by the desert winds. Though, it is quite another thing to hear it confirmed by the source.”

“What was your name again? I’m sorry, I don’t recall it.” Erec said, scratching the back of his head. With all of the faces, names, and introductions already flown through, he couldn’t put one to this guy.

“Soren, that is no fault of your own. I had yet to give it.” The boy looked out over the rest of the gathering; he frowned at the large clock on a wall. At Erec’s side, Garin went stock still. “Apologies, I must be going, there’s little time remaining, and I still have a few obligations to address. I look forward to attending the Academy with you. I’m sure you’ll prove worthy of competition.”

Soon after, Garin bid their quick farewells to the group and yanked Erec aside.

“Holy shit, Erec do you know who that was?”

“Nope, no clue.” Erec sighed. After two hours of talking to people and the loud noise of the crowd, he already felt well and truly drained. Yet each hour only seemed to charge his friend up more. It’d be grating if it were anyone but Garin.

“That was Prince Soren Crisimus, third in line for the royal throne. I didn’t recognize him until the name—it’s been years since I saw him, but I’m sure of it.”

Erec scanned the crowd, but among the swollen ranks of nobles now present, it was impossible to say where he’d gone. He’d known a prince had attended the trial; as odd such an occurrence was after everything that happened, he didn’t have the headspace to remember or truly care. But that was the guy? Why was he so interested in their fight with the bugs?

A short time later, the horn blared, signaling the ceremony was about to begin.