Oaths & Declarations

Each king stood beneath his banner, awaiting with fervent anticipation those who would pledge allegiance and join their fold.
A hushed reverence blanketed the ceremony. Every teacher had taken their place within their respective faction, yet William alone remained in his former position, apart.
One by one, the students stepped forward: they knelt, placed their hand upon the faction's banner, and swore their oath. Then, the king himself would drape the cloak over their shoulders—a garment that was not merely a symbol of membership, but a covenant for a new life.

It was now the turn of Arian's group to perform the rites.
The sound of their heartbeats merged with the heavy, echoing footsteps in the hall, each thrum amplifying the collective anxiety.

Drekaron unbuttoned his coat. Before his father and a fourth-year student who was scratching his beard, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head:
"I swear to uphold the balance in light and in darkness, in peace and in war, and never to let one scale outweigh the other."

"My son, remember this: your duty is to protect these scales. If you betray this oath, you betray not me, but your own self. Now rise, and return to your place." Drakensius gazed into his son's restless eyes, sensing a deep, seething anger within their depths.

It was Maro's turn. With unwavering steps, he stood before his king. He neither bowed his head nor knelt. Instead, he simply slammed a fist hard against his heart and declared in a powerful, resonant voice:
"I, Maro, Scion of Blood, swear that in all things—even at the cost of my life—I shall impose order."
Then, he drove his fangs into his own wrist and drank his blood. Crimson drops stained the earth, and a hushed whisper swept through the hall.

Maro alone had upheld the ancient tradition of drinking blood during the oath, a deed that filled Raxelius with pride. Yet, for others unaware of his people's history, it had sown pure terror.

Raxelius gripped Maro's shoulders with both hands and declared proudly, "This world endures by the blood of the sworn, like you. Keep your vow faithfully, and do not disappoint me." With a warm smile, he welcomed his new disciple.

In the hall, the dance of light from the candles now moved in time with the music swelling through the air. The next to swear the oath was Syrun.

He took his king's cloak and kissed it. Closing his eyes, he spoke in a voice both loud and calm:
"I, Syrun, a son of the Elven lands, swear never to forget my roots and never to shelter a blighted branch."
His gaze met Aldinor's. For a moment, he held it, as if concealing a multitude of unspoken words.

"May it be so, my son," said Aldinor. He took Syrun's brown cloak in his hands, and Syrun, in turn, kissed it—a sign that this vow was a covenant between them.

Leo gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly that blood seeped between his fingers. In stark contrast, Andreas knelt like a knight, lifting his head to meet his king's eyes:
"I, Leo, son of a warrior, swear upon my father's sword to align all my ambitions with the furtherance of your own."

Andreas bent toward Armi and raised the kneeling Leo to his feet: "My dear boy, remember to wield your father's sword well. I will never forget my beloved commander, Alfred, who fell in battle."

All present fell into a moment of silence to honor the war dead. In that moment, it was as if even the candle flames flickered out in respect.

Layna approached her leader's dais with slow yet dignified steps. She gathered her skirts in her hands and curtsied like a highborn lady: "My Lord, I, Layna, daughter of your counselor, swear to be the eternal guardian of Calustia and shall strive never to disappoint you."

Andreas took the gentle girl's hand and, with a slight bow, kissed it. In an authoritative tone, he said, "I await it eagerly, my daughter."

All those present applauded to honor the scene, now looking upon the girl before them with newfound respect.

Now it was the turn of the group's core: Arian. With resolute steps, he walked toward Andreas. He did not bow, but merely inclined his head slightly. Then, he took a step back so all the kings and teachers were within his sight. In a clear, commanding voice, fit for a king himself, he declared:

"I am Arian. A son with no past. A son who, even if chosen by the gods, also bears their curse. Even if I have no past, I make my own future. And I swear to bend the present to my will."

A stunned silence gripped them all. They could not tell if this was a pledge of allegiance or a declaration of power—and they fell under its spell. The candle flames themselves seemed to swell, burning with a fiercer, more ardent heat.

A low chuckle rose from Andreas, casting a silence over the entire assembly. "Arian, you should know... I believe you are the most remarkable person I have ever seen. I, in turn, promise you this: I will make time itself bend to your favor—if you pledge yourself to me."

All the kings fixed their gaze on Arian's blue eyes, awaiting his claim.

"I shall strive to be worthy of your aid, my Lord. I will walk with you." Arian offered a bow to Andreas, then turned to survey the faces of the others. His friends watched with fervent pride, his rivals with stunned disbelief.

The ceremony, after the oaths that had been sworn, was drawing to a close. Everyone was now engaged in the reception. A murmur of whispers coiled through the great hall, weaving itself into a new kind of music.

The time had come to taste new troubles.