[Skell]
Lucival, the Lionheart.
When I studied the Order a month back, his name stood out like the quill that penned it was dipped in liquid gold. Scholars shed colorless language to frolic in rhetoric and weave tales that sounded closer to fable than reality.
A load of hot crap, I figured. Judge or not, nobody's that great.
Now that he was here though? In the flesh?
I wasn't so sure.
Valérie, Merriline, even Karthwyn bowed to the armored man, whose broad smile reversed instantly. "Ah, no! Not again! The titles - the bowing, please! Such pleasantries are unnecessary; truly, I'm no one of great significance."
"Ah, Judge Lucival," Merriline's lashes fluttered, "so modest."
The man blanched, before catching the gaze of an infinitely less starstruck Karthwyn. "What brings you to the capital, Ridefort? I was of the impression you still had… business to attend to."
"Referring to the Deathbed, I take it?" Lucival rested a confident hand on his hip, blowing any cover of secrecy. If his frankness bothered the Commandant, the man sure didn't show it. "Indeed, the undead hordes kept our hands rather full. Gaps present themselves in any legion, however - even those whose numbers consist of the tireless and endless. You taught me that, remember?"
"I do," rumbled Karthwyn.
"And with such exemplary warriors keeping vigil over our threshold, I sensed an opportunity: to witness the future of the Order with my very own gaze!"
"Alas…" Lucival's rouge eyes drifted over us, "it appears I've arrived a smidgeon early for the evening festival. The Light Disc Eliholl lent me flies faster than I expected. Crossing the country overnight makes for a truly breathtaking voyage!"
"Y-you flew here!?" Niles leaned.
Karthwyn's face twisted. "Quiet yourself, boy!"
"At ease, old friend," said the Judge. "Inquisitiveness among the youth is a virtue." He turned to Niles. "See, my brother-in-arms Eliholl was kindly enough - after some prodding, mind - to cast Light Disc for my purpose. An art capable of slashing across the skies swifter than the swiftest gryphon, ferrying passengers over mountains and valleys alike!"
"Woah! That is incredible!" Niles' hanging jaw jumped up and down like a sock puppet. "Maybe I oughta learn light magic one day, too."
"Too? Curious," Lucival cocked a razor-sharp brow. "I presumed the Ordeals were over and everyone present had passed. Yet you speak as if you don't intend to take the mantle and learn light magics yourself."
"I don't, actually. Can't." The swordsman clasped me on the back. "That spot's for Purple, here."
Karthwyn interjected. "Utter nonsense. A 'spot' belongs to this wretch least of all, who should already be well on his way. In fact, I shall take it upon myself to escort him from the premises."
I watched the Commandant march up to me with immovable eyes. "I'm going nowhere! I earned my way here - no matter how much y-"
His gauntlet locked around my wrist. "Enough!" he spat.
"Stand down, Karthwyn," Lucival appeared beside us like he'd been there all along. "I'd like to be apprised of this situation before rash action is taken."
Chains weren't half as tight as Karthwyn's grip. My bones threatened to crumble to dust. But slowly, his gauntlet loosened, 'til the man reluctantly let go. "Very well… See, this applicant-"
"Beat me in the last match of the Ordeals!" Niles blurted. "But he won't let Skell pass because he's… a dark mage."
I appreciated his words. Dearly. But they could've gone without that last part.
"A dark mage…" mused the gold-haired Judge, his face a mystery. "Quite intriguing, that. The air's tension now makes a great deal more sense. But more to the matter at hand - you claim he was victorious. Valérie, Merriline, is this truth?"
Anxiety suddenly retook the Paladin and Warden. Conflicted eyes glanced aside, avoiding Karthwyn's.
"I see." Lucival's brows pressed close. "Seems we are left with one parties' words against another's. Always a difficult truth to unravel for the hands of justice and law. But far from impossible!"
Karthwyn frowned knowingly. "Ridefort, that art is unnecessary. We are both Templars of the highest order. Should you not save your energy and simply trust the words of your colleague?"
"Apologies, old friend. But I believe every man and woman is capable of err. Even us. Now everyone, stand back if you would. This requires space. And a wink of your time…"
Lucival shut his eyes as we formed a tense circle around him. Focus surged across the Judge's face; sweat stroked down the Commandant's. Then… time itself seemed to stutter.
"Chrono Vision!"
Eyelids opened to reveal shining golden orbs. Lucival's irises vanished - along with everything else, save for his 'pupils'. Those warped into something stranger: silver clocks. The long hand ticked every second. But then the clocks in his eyes stopped, then ticked again.
This time, backwards.
"What's he up to?" Niles elbowed me.
I shrugged. "No clue."
"Peering into the past, my friends," answered the Judge.
"Huh!?" we asked in unintentional unison.
As we pondered how possible it could really be to see beyond the present, Lucival's attention flicked upward. "I see two young men struggling at the stage's rim. A ploy, to mixed success. Then falling. Agape faces above. A confrontation below. Joy. Agitation. My own face. And now," his eyes returned to their normal state, regarding Niles and I, "those same young men, staring down their futures."
"Th-then… what do they hold?" I asked hesitantly.
Lucival cleared his throat. "…Karthwyn, I believe it wisest if I take the reins from here on out. Please, allow me to relieve you. Spearheading the Sacred Ordeals must've been exhaustive work."
The taut wrinkles behind Karthwyn's eyeglasses loosened. "P-pardon, Judge Lucival," he added subserviently, "but you may have misconstrued-"
"Actually, I have greater clarity of these circumstances than you credit me for," Lucival's soft-spoken tone simmered with righteous heat. "Recall that I know quite well the structure of this year's Sacred Ordeals; I was there when they were drafted. I will be sufficient to handle the remaining proceedings. Which returns me to my original request: rest, Karthwyn." His eyes gave the Commandant a countdown of dwindling seconds. "I insist."
Karthwyn opened his trap, then with what little wise judgement he had, sewed it back shut. Instead he nodded stiffly towards his superior, and turned away. All my willpower suddenly went to resisting the urge to shoot him a cheeky smile and a couple choice fingers on his way out.
But before he reached the escalift, Lucival's voice froze him. "Ah, and one more thing. Visit my tower at dusk for a quick chat, if you wouldn't mind. We have several topics to discuss in great detail."
Karthwyn didn't turn back. But the stiff old man did slump, ever so slightly. "…Understood. Sir." His orderly march carried on to the escalift, 'til he finally faded from our sore eyes.
Lucival then nodded toward the Warden and Paladin. "You two, as well. I've a wealth of questions as to how the Sacred Ordeals were run. But," he flashed a friendly smile, "neither of you are in trouble."
Merriline blew a deep sigh of relief. Valérie's posture straightened.
The Judge then spread focus to the rest of the room. "Apologies, everyone. I imagine you are all thoroughly exhausted of this facility and would like to embark for Templarhood. Nevertheless, one last matter must be addressed." Lucival turned to the swordsman beside me, looking down at him with sympathetic eyes. "What is your name, young man?"
"…Niles," his passive fidgeting came to a complete stop.
"Niles," Lucival repeated to himself, as if committing it to memory, "This is… difficult to request, but in the past, I saw clearly the result of the last battle."
"You saw me lose," Niles' gaze hardened. "And… now that everything's over, you want me to leave, too. Am I on the mark?"
Lucival frowned. "That is the long and short of it, I suppose. Failed applicants simply cannot be allowed to become a Templar. However, next year is always an option. The Order will accept your application with open arms, if you still wish to have us."
Niles smiled sadly. "Nah. I'll need something more immediate. But thanks for the offer."
"I understand completely. Your path may not be ours, young Niles, but follow it earnestly all the same."
"Valérie? Merriline?" the golden-haired man requested, "would you kindly escort our friend to the city proper?"
"Not at all, sir," the Warden bowed.
"Anything for you, Judge Lucival!" piped the Paladin.
As they came to Niles' side, cathartic thoughts of my triumph and cold satisfaction at Karthwyn getting the boot… took an uncomfortable back seat. Now my mind fixed on the swordsman. I had everything I wanted. While he and his home had nothing but rot. Where would he go from here? What could he do? Desperately my mind turned to some sorta solution. Then, right before they stepped into the escalift's hall, a spur-of-the-moment idea struck like lightning.
"Sorry to interrupt!" I rushed ahead of everyone. "Can I have a second?"
Niles, Valérie, and Merriline stopped, waiting to hear what I had to say. Lucival's expression was similar, following it with a curt nod.
"Our schedule for the rest of today," I questioned, "how, er, busy will it be?"
"Quite," replied the Judge. "Your audience with the King and High Judge along with your participation in the festival will span the bulk of the daylight hours. Attendance is then required here in the Citadel for a more intimate celebration. By sunset you'll be shown to your rooms in the living quarters."
"Then after nightfall, that's it?"
"That's it. Even Templars need sleep," Lucival smiled.
Great! Just need one more question answered. "Niles, how much longer will you be in Selem?"
He blinked curiously. "For a time, probably. I'll need to sit and think out another plan for Mother Tree and all."
"Perfect…" my lips curved into a dark smirk.
He flinched. "Wh-what's with that wicked-looking face?"
"I've got an idea. Let's leave it at that." I thought about our present company - particularly those who listened from above. "Meet me where we ran into eachother, just before the Ordeals. Remember the place, right?"
"How could I forget where you got me a free room? You're talking 'bout-"
"Shh! Just be there. At midnight."
Niles scratched his head. "…All this sounds a small bit creepy. But you know I trust you, Purple. I'll show."
"Great! Because you'll really, really like this…"
"Mate…" he paled, "you're doing that face again…"
—————————————————————————————–———–
To the human lifespan, what was three days but a paragraph of their memoir?
To an undead who hadn't even seen his third month yet, those sleepless seventy-two hours felt endless. A mire of lurking danger and sinking loneliness.
So when I swaggered past it all? An arena where tens of tense battles raged? The chamber where I leveraged my plucked-out eyeball to cheat a test? An ancient town where ravenous monsters swarmed us like locusts? Our commons room, where everyone loathed my illusory guts? Then finally, back on the massive escalift rising back to the Citadel?
My bones couldn't have been more relieved.
I never wanted to see that Abyss-damned facility again. In fact, when the escalift - so empty-feeling when only nine of us stood on it - drifted to a stop and the domed building's massive doors yawned open… I felt nothing but peace.
Natural sunlight poured inside like ethereal honey. Others cringed at the blinding dawn; I beamed back at it. The clear sky and verdant courtyard below were even more stunning than I remembered.
Led by Lucival, we stepped out onto one of the twinkling, pearlescent paths cutting through the Citadel's emerald-green grass. A river of thoughts carried me along, sorta like the striking spiral fountain I stared at just off the path. Most pressing, I think, were those of my fellow applicants.
Or Templars, now. Urgh. That'll take some getting used to.
My eyes glanced back at Ryzza. Girl looks more down than the Abyss, even though she made the cut. Sad about Niles, must be.
Yamui and Hyland met my gaze as it flicked left to right. Then there's these jokers. Both won't quit giving me those slimy looks. Yamui's probably kicking himself for believing I was some crazy-strong warrior after seeing me struggle in that last match. Hyland… well, I won. Under all that contempt is the look of a man who's about to hit the jackpot.
…I'll have to keep an eye on him.
Just ahead walked two more junior Templars: Cirian and Ormine.
Cirian looks like he's on cloud nine. Ten, even. Guess I can't be the only one thrilled about winning. Ormine though… I caught the heavily-armored woman sneering at me. She was one of those weird types that didn't look away when noticed. I looked away for her. Seems like the ire against dark mages is alive and well. Meh. She'll just have to deal with me.
Past them were two others. I didn't recall their names - neither did I feel like trying. That just left me with…
Wait. Where is she?
"Soleil? A fine name!" Lucival declared at the front of the pack. Gold hair billowed in the wind alongside Soleil's flame-orange as they chatted.
"I like it," the woman voiced in a tone most would call way too casual, "but it's missin' some pizazz," she waved fingers. "Like a chic title before it."
"Such as mine?" Lucival chuckled. "Well, I hadn't the privilege of observing your efforts in the Ordeals, but you, at a cursory glance, seem to absolutely brim with potential. In time I believe you'll forge quite the name for yourself."
"Oh, Judge Lucival!" Ormine butted in at the unlikely pair's side, "speaking of time, I've been dying to ask about that art you used! I-if you'll let me!"
"Ask away," he nodded.
"Well, I, uh," the normally headstrong Ormine slowly imitated the Lionheart's stride, "I was simply interested in how it functioned. I've… heard others speak to your mastery of light magic, but what you did earlier? Sun above…" her brows shot up. "Oh - forgive my language!"
Lucival laughed. "Speak your full mind to me, lass. I welcome it. But to be frank, I'm quite far from deserving the title of 'master'. I'll admit that glimpsing into the past is mind-boggling to most, yet believe it or not, Chrono Eye is quite straightforward."
The Judge conducted the first of a minutes-long string of sweeping gestures. "See, I manipulate the photoluminescence entering my eyes so that… tweaking the speed I perceive a scene which… by hyper-accelerating this light to nigh-unfathomable levels… reversing the effect and… permitting me to witness pre-existing moments. Exceedingly simple when all laid out, no?"
That deluge of convoluted explanation washed away Ormine along with just about everyone else. I didn't even try to keep up. Even I had a limit to all the mumbo-jumbo I could focus on at a time.
"Huh," Soleil scratched her head. "Ain't that a unique way of usin' light magic?"
Ormine looked relieved that she didn't get it either. Temporarily.
"You're pretty much tryin' to harness time dilation," Soleil stated. "Focusin' it into your eyes - then turnin' the whole process on its head. But even magic's gotta brush up against snags with something as serious as time."
"Spectacular!" the man's face brightened, "you are entirely correct, Soleil! Chrono Vision is potent, but it only reaches into the past, not the future. And beyond an hour or so, specifics begin to muddle."
"Still," she credited, "the things ya could pull off with an art like that."
My eyes passed over Ormine's envious look and Lucival's giddy face, finding one-eyed Soleil, as casually calm as always. I wanted to talk her. I mean, I completely ignored the advice she'd fed me the entire Ordeals. I wasn't ashamed, or guilty - I made my choice. But that didn't mean I wanted to throw the orange-haired baby out with the bathwater.
For what it's worth, Soleil did congratulate me when I reached the Final Ordeal's upper floor. Just to cut further conversation short by noting there'd be plenty of time to chat after things slowed down. I didn't wanna wait then and I didn't wanna wait now. But as we encountered our destination ahead, I realized that, yeah, maybe it should wait.
"Ah!" Lucival lifted his gaze, "and here we are, at our Citadel's very heart: The Crystal Château!"
Never in my unlife did I imagine anything could be so opulent. Widening by several orders of magnitude was the pearl path underfoot, proudly declaring we'd stepped someplace even grander than the rest of the Citadel. Carefully trimmed hedges fenced the path, broken up by finely sculpted marble statues of past Templars, larger-than-life in more ways than one.
Cerulean waters swept to the palace's left, a lake reflecting the Château's sky-piercing spires. A tiny island nestled in its center, with an unoccupied chair shaded by a bending tree.
Mazelike gardens bloomed high to our right. I'd later learn what hid inside their hedge walls - like giant flytraps bred to eat everything but human flesh, or jigferns that swayed to singing and twirled to tunes.
But the main event glimmered at the path's end. Beyond two stewards and an open gate rose a massive blue-crystal structure. Above countless stained glass windows and balconies extended four pointed towers that could draw blood from the sky. Three sprouted from the east, west, and north; the tallest ascended between them all.
"Have the four towers caught your eye?" Lucival questioned the group. "They towers themselves are home. For me, my brother and sister-in-arms Eliholl and Artoria, as well as the woman you'll soon meet: High Judge Obéline."
Awe prickled my bones, and I wasn't alone. I knew the tippy-top ranked Templars weren't living in some slum, but high towers, inside an idyllic landscape, bordered by a ginormous impenetrable barrier?
I'll admit: I was jealous.
"Pity that the former two," continued Lucival, "have far too many irons in their respective fires to visit Selem presently, but as I mentioned before, the High Judge and King Vancaster VI are inside this very Château, awaiting your collective presence."
Obéline and Vancaster. The two most powerful people in Lumerit. So those are their names…
It was then, as we reached the gates and Lucival made friendly small talk with the stewards, that something stood out to me. After passing the gate, I cleared my throat. "Er… I have a question."
"Shoot, as they say," replied the Judge.
"Why… is the King here? Wouldn't it make more sense for us to greet these two at his castle? Or separately?"
I wanted to tack on more questions. I didn't. Lucival could fill in the blanks himself: shouldn't it be the sovereign who accommodates visitors, instead of being a visitor himself? In his own capital, no less?
The Judge sucked teeth and glanced aside. For a second I thought I overstepped his courtesy. He'd been so humble, after all, that I forgot his rank. And more importantly, what he could do with it.
But after a tense beat, his words rolled out as easily as always. "Would it? This is a celebration of the Templars, even if it does benefit the state as a whole. In my mind, it's only sensible for his Majesty, in all his grace and charity, to visit the Citadel and grant the newest Templars his blessing."
Half the groups' eyes trained on me like crossbows, spawning instant regret. "It… makes sense when you put it like that."
The Judge nodded. "But we must move on from idle discussions for now." he turned to us at the Crystal Château's three arched blue-crystal doors. "Once we step beyond, every one of your lives will be eternally altered. You will be Templars, and no matter what comes of your future, the position you take and the oaths you make will be forever bound to you."
In other words… there's no going back.
Except, I'd have to go back. I'd almost started to lose sight of my goal in the face of this paradise of grandiosity. In knowing I'd accomplished the impossible. But to really be a Templar? It… wasn't me. It'd never be me.
Ultimately, I soldiered through the Ordeals and earned the title of Templar for the Order's secrets. To steal the method of resurrection. I wasn't gonna abide any oaths or uphold any standards. I wanted to live. That's it. Once I gained entry to the Templar's archives and found what I needed, I was gone. I doubted the Order that opposed undeath would have the tools to bring someone back to life. So I'd flee in the dead of night - after giving the most heartful thanks a skeleton could to Amara, of course.
How would the Order react? What would come afterwards? Would the secret be something actionable? Those… were tomorrow's questions.
I still need to get that far, firs-
"Skell?"
I snapped out of my thoughts. "Y-yeah?"
Lucival stepped closer. "I asked all of you if this is truly the path you wish to bind yourself to. You are the only one who didn't answer."
Shade.
"That isn't criticism, my friend," he went on. "This is an immense commitment. One any Templar should be completely certain of before accepting. So I'll ask once more: are you prepared to embark on the first steps of a road extending beyond even your own lifetime?"
I doubted that last part. But as the Judge finished and I prepared to spin a canned lie, I found myself wavering. It wasn't just another solider in polished armor looking back at me. This was a man who believed. Not just in his Order, but in us.
Lucival knew I was a dark mage. Lucival still smiled at me like he did everyone else. Not with hate. Not as a lesser. As an equal. Despite being a hero, he was truly, completely genuine.
That made lying an Abyss of a lot harder.
"Y-yeah…" my voice cracked. "I'm ready."
The Judge laid a rose-gold gauntlet on my shoulder. "Weak is your voice, Skell, but blinding is the radiant determination you hold within - I see it. Long ago, I was like you. Small. Hesitant. Ambitious. Back then, all I wanted was to bring change, to become a man who could better the world with my own hands. And here I am. And here you are. I'll not hazard a guess as to what change you seek, but I trust that, like me, you'll find it here. Simply believe in your goal, putting your all into the steps needed to reach it, and soon, you'll have what you've yearned for all along."
This guy's a hero among heroes, and he's burning daylight to motivate me? Just some kid? I…
He noticed my fading concern and extended a finger. "And the first step is to show the world you intend to take this path. Make clear your determination, Skell!"
"I'm ready," I firmed my voice, shaking off the embarrassment.
"Is that all?" questioned the Lionheart. "Unchain your resolve! Deny the world from shaping your ambition, make your ambition shape the world!"
"I will!" the words took on a life on their own and soared into the skies. "If the world breaks me - I'll come back stronger, stronger, 'til it's forced to watch me take the next step!"
"Marvelous!" Lucival beamed. "That, everyone," he turned, "is the spirit of a Templar!"
Inspiration washed over just about everyone. Ormine was on the verge of fainting, even Yamui seemed impressed by the man's presence.
The only exceptions were Hyland, whose invigoration was quickly dispelled by seething hatred. No surprise; his superior's words went to a "lowly" undead. Hyland… and Soleil. She just looked at me. Unsmiling. Unimpressed.
Oh well.
Lucival strolled past and placed his gauntlet on the massive Château door. "Ah yes, I nearly forgot…" he tilted his head toward us, easy expression dipping into seriousness. "I should give a condensed reminder of my earlier instructions. To be safe."
Right. Those ominous instructions that went on from when we set foot into the commons to when we made it to the surface. Oh boy.
"Bow to the High Judge, left fist over the heart at a sixty degree angle minimum - both when entering and leaving her presence. Refer to the High Judge as her title, exclusively, and the King as Your Majesty. Maintain steady eye-contact. Speak clear and succinct. And… well, that should suffice. Be attentive, and I trust each of you will pick up the rest."
Few ever got to step foot into the Citadel. Fewer still got to meet the King and High Judge and accept the mantle of Templar. It was the kind of situation that birthed dreamers across the nation. Some of us tensed. Some took steady, calming breaths. Some of us were Soleil. All of us, though, were as ready as we'd ever get.
Lucival saw that. So he opened the way for us.
—————————————————————————————————
Luxury. Splendor. Vanity. If the Citadel was paradise on Sanctuary, this luminous monolith was its empyreal core. The ultimate culmination of prestige and prosperity.
Crystalline architecture wasn't just some veneer on the Château's exterior; it followed us inside to a grand entrance hall, shining from the massive double-sided staircase up to the second floor's pillars - as practical as they were ornate.
The epidemic of resplendent blues and whites hadn't infected everything, though. Stained glass shone along the walls, depicting climactic battles and famed moments of diplomacy. Not as still moments, but in motion, as if these scenarios were taking place just inches beyond the canvas. Waterfalls tumbled between them into canals of sparkling water that rose in sections to spell "welcome". White-flame sconces lit every lifelike feature of the marble busts of legendary Templars - their stony eyes following ours.
"Enchantments like these…" Ryzza's overwhelmed jaw hung as low as the rest of ours. "…Incredible."
"This scarcely scratches the surface," said an exceedingly whelmed Lucival. "The finest enchantments, treasures, and artisans in the nation. Our Citadel boasts them all."
I didn't find that hard to believe. But I did find myself stuck between two attitudes.
First was to spit on all this needless grandeur. Mountains of rounds must've gone to this place - the whole Citadel, really. Rounds that could've went to a million better things than shiny palaces and over-complicated trials and who-knows-what-else.
That said… Abyss, it was a feast for the eyes. Otherworldly surrealism rinsed my eyes so deeply that I halfway-forgot the struggles of the prior days. No artistic rendition could do this place justice. No written account would spark any image in someone's mind but a second-rate replica.
You just had to be there. Every space emanated a celestial, incandescent silver glow.
Just like the woman who appeared at the pinnacle of the double-sided staircase.
All our sightseeing came to a screeching halt. I didn't have to be told who this woman was. Nobody did. Her silent, room-freezing presence spoke louder than any regal announcement.
Th-that's her. Gotta be. High Judge Obéline…
Supreme authority of the Templar Order.