[Skell]
Color. Flash. Wonder. In terms of visual gluttony, Selem wasn't just the capital of Lumerit, but possibly the whole world. So it'd stand to reason that gazing down at it from the cerulean sky would be a feast for the eye holes.
Of course, I didn't have to theorize - reality rushed past my cheeks alongside thousands of cheers, waves, and blown kisses soaring from the streets. Our group made fast work of flying through every major avenue in the Argent District, passing hundreds of orderly buildings in a thousand different silvers and greys - all with the vibrant variance of a rainbow.
But visiting the entire capital was on our to-do list, not just the administrative quarter. We returned to the district's main avenue. Then Lucival shot east with us Squires in tow.
Soon we left behind the Argent District for one I knew better than anywhere else in the capital: The Rouge Revelry.
Before entering, I figured we'd see way smaller numbers than the Argent District's.
I didn't know shade.
Spectators mobbed theatres. And dark taverns. And a couple shady-looking businesses that Lucival seemed to dislike looking at - the very same Soleil grinned at with familiarity. Like before, city guardsmen blew their lungs out into whistles that were worlds too quiet to corral the crowd's fervor.
During our ride above the congested district, I even spotted the combat center I used to train at. The individual rooms had no roof, meaning there was a clear view into the grounds where so much happened.
I hit those dirt floors so often. I chuckled to myself. Thanks to her…
Those days felt like an eternity ago, even if less than two months separated then and now. More important than indulging in golden memories, though, was my promise to meet Niles there tonight. That, I couldn't forget.
But my plan had to wait 'til after nightfall. For now - like Lucival encouraged - I relished the ride. All the way to another familiar place: the Ivy Corner.
Our time there was short, thanks to the district's cozy-small size. While we glided over libraries, universities, and hospitals, schools paused their lectures to wave us on. Even if most hands were busy carrying books and quills.
Next approached someplace I'd never seen: the Cedar Dwellings. Basically a middle-class residential area like Belza Hill's Middle Layer… only ten times larger.
Pedestrian families stepped out to watch us from porches. Parents lifted children for a closer look. A basic gesture, really. But something in it refocused a desire to track down my own missing parents.
Bordering the Dwellings was a hub I heard long before we saw it: The Gilded Marketplace. Loud barkers, louder auction chanting - even the jingling of exchanged coin pouches sailed their ways into the skies. All but the greediest store owners and stall merchants stopped to smile at us Squires… before going back to ripping off some sucker.
We ran like devils through here when we searched for Oliver. I… I hope he's all right. By now he should've long met up with Cynthine.
I smiled. Wonder how that meeting went. Bet she didn't expect to see him again so soon. That old witch better have given Oliver whatever it was he was looking for.
Those thoughts clouded my attention. So much that I barely noticed we'd crossed into the Amethyst Residencies. Oliver and I cut through these ritzy mansions and luxury apartments on our way to Amara.
Abyss… Penelle probably lives here, huh? Now that I'm out of the Ordeals, should I go see h… no. No. It'll be too hard. And that's if she ever wakes up again.
Sorry, Penelle.
As we made our rounds, the sun inched closer to the horizon. Twilight's scarlet glazed over cobblestone roads and angular buildings, right when we reached the fittingly named Crimson Barracks. Probably the smallest district, this was - judging by the sparse number of board-stiff men and women in orange gambesons - the city guard's base of operations.
Though strangely, it felt… unimpressive. The Citadel blasted it out of the water in every metric, and even without a big brother to draw comparisons to, it reeked of omnipresent wear-and-tear. Crappy earth magic repairs - obviously cast and recast over older repairs - barely bandaged the stone structures' deeper damage. Barebones streets pushed against barebones exteriors. Archery posts were moreso arrowhead notches than paint. Magical scars charred and warped training dummies into inhuman shapes.
As for the human shapes of the guardsmen? Resentment lurked in the shadows of their upturned salutes.
And in a flash we were beyond them. Now we winged over Selem's second-to-last district: The Azure Harbor.
While most districts technically bordered the stupidly-huge river Selem was built upon, this was the only one where massive walls didn't bar access. Boats, ferrying to and from the faraway shore, peppered the pristine waters, and in hindsight, I got jealous that Oliver and I didn't enter Selem from the harbor. Cruising over the waves would beat strolling across some packed bridge any day.
Then again, I'm flying on top of a gryphon. When it comes to forms of travel, maybe I should count my blessings.
After being hailed by groups of muscle-bound harbor workers and tireless Templar enthusiasts who chased us across the entire city, only one district remained. Except…
We never got to see it.
Why are heading back to the Citadel? That city map I bought forever ago said there was another district in northwest Selem.
"Judge Lucival?" I asked over calm winds, nearly forgetting to add the man's title, "I might be wrong, but isn't there one last district?"
The other Squires looked to us. Those who I learned lived in Selem had particularly quick eyes.
Lucival turned to me, as much he could on gryphon-back, with a solemn frown. "In all honesty, I hoped this question would go unasked. Not to imply any wrongdoing on your part. You deserve to know as much as anyone else. And, I suppose, the incident is far from secret."
Well, Abyss. With a preamble like that…
"After last year's Sacred Ordeals," he continued," the victorious Squires mounted gryphons and took to the skies. Much like you all. As they traveled to the final district - the Shaded Diggings - a set of individuals primed themselves amid the crowd. Volleys of elemental magics sprung for the captivated Squires. Most missed. Yet a single lightning bolt found the heart of an innocent gryphon. It died immediately. So did its rider, seconds after, upon the streets."
Lucival's eyes slammed shut, like the blade of a mourning guillotine. "High Judge Obéline determined we would not visit the Diggings the following year."
Stunned expressions filled the air as we realized how close danger could've been, and although it might've been my imagination, Mori seemed to lower her head at Lucival's last several words.
"Truly tragic," Cirian wrung his hands from the other side of our formation. "I cannot claim I was present to see it, but the screams could be heard halfway across the capital. As a matter of fact," he glanced back, "you were a Knight once. I hate to ask, but-"
"It was the year after mine," Hyland interrupted brusquely. "I prepared to graduate into Knighthood when the assassination occurred. Templars turned Selem upside down in the ensuing manhunt. All because those incompetent city guardsmen couldn't do their only duty."
I scanned below. Scores of orange gambesons colored the streets. Must be one reason why so many patrol the streets. And… why Lucival's here with us.
"Mistakes happen," defended the Lionheart. "Even those with grave consequences. The city guard deserves their due just as much as the Templars. They've endured much for Selem."
"R-right. My apologies, Judge Lucival," claimed Hyland. Although his body language couldn't entirely commit.
"I still don't understand…" Ormine clenched a fist over the adoring city. "Templars protect the weak. Fight for what's righteous. Why would anyone - especially a Selem citizen - ever attack them? Everyone loves us."
"…Not everyone," the Lionheart noted grimly.
Lucival's eyes rose to flick between all of ours. His face flashed brighter in an instant. "But skies like these are much too beautiful to suffer downcast weather. We happen to near the Citadel, now. Hold tight; we make landfall, soon."
—————————————————————————————–———–
"Alack!" Baudelaire staggered dramatically. "You depart so soon, Judge Lucival!? Hardly even enjoyed a reprieve in the capital, you have!"
Lucival casually ran fingers through his golden locks. "Truer words have never been uttered. After sorting out my affairs with the other Templars, I'll be well on my way. As my fellow Judges say: for us, the gavel must rise the moment it comes down. Nevertheless, I wouldn't trade my position for the world."
A caw from the Judge's noble gryphon emphasized his smiling words.
Conversely, Baudelaire was gutted. Not that his was the only frown. I still couldn't wrap my head around a Templar more humble than Hyland, yet of a higher rank than Karthwyn. But there he was, mounting his gryphon at the stables center as easily as you'd sign your name. A real figure. An unreal figure, in some ways. And one we'd all have preferred to stick around, instead of flying off to whatever-the-Abyss the Deathbed was.
After gazing into the distance at something only he could see, Lucival's attention moved to us Squires. "A new generation. In all likelihood, many months will pass before we meet again. Much will occur in the interim. You'll learn. Grow. Wound. And be wounded. But do not die. You - all of you - are the future. Not merely of something so small as the Templar Order. Not merely Lumerit. Even further beyond. Few can be Templars. You bear the mettle. Harness it, and I believe you can leave even me in the dust. Remember that well."
Huge words. And yet, part of me wanted to believe in their potential for truth. The starry-eyed, impractical part that could consider myself even half the man Lucival was… and that could momentarily ignore my true purpose for being here.
Though on second thought… maybe it wasn't his exact words that inspired me, so much as the idea of being something bigger than myself.
I shook my head. Whatever you're thinking, it'll have to wait. Finish getting your life back before you consider starting on other recipes.
"Alright, latched up the last gryphon," Hillcoat dusted off his hands, appearing at our group's side with Maunie on his tail.
"Thanks for waiting for us tae finish, sir Lionheart," she added. "Really, you're a genuine gentleman. After I get pregnant, I think I'll name my son after you!"
"O-oh, will you now!?" Lucival stammered, "I'm… er… quite honored?"
As Lucival reeled, I realized there was something I wanted - no - should've told him. Even if I would've preferred there not to be an audience. "Er, Judge Lucival?" I stepped forward. "Sorry to keep you. I just wanna say thanks."
"What for?" curious eyes hung under arched brows. "Accompanying you all was no bother, if that's what you refer to."
"No, that's not it. I mean the end of the Ordeals - when you proved I won the final match. If not for that… I wouldn't be here."
Lucival's eyes narrowed. But not at me. "Ah… that. Because you utilize dark magic."
"Y-yer a dark mage!?" Hillcoat's eyes bulged.
The Judge shared a look with the stablehand before returning attention to me. "Well, in that case… you might say we're even."
"Even?" I took a double-take. "What have I done for you?"
Not one Squire went unsurprised. The confused gazes around us dug deep enough to touch bone.
Hillcoat guffawed, more thunderous than seemed possible for a man so short. "Looks like a taker came quicker than we thought, eh Lucival?"
Ironically for me, getting left in the dark was getting annoying. I spread arms, waiting for an answer.
Speaking of arms, the stablehand crossed his. "Lad, yer aware of that old rule the Order championed? About dark mages?"
I searched my memories, recalling a conversation with Amara. "You mean the ban preventing dark mages from applying to the Templars, right?"
Hillcoat nodded. "The man who took great pains to remove that rule stands right there, wearin' armor so bright it's halfway to puttin' out my good eye."
"L-Lucival!?" I completely forgot the man's title, "you let dark mages join the Order!?"
"Hillcoat…" the Lionheart shaded his face from the setting sun - or at least, tried to make it seem that way, "I fear you frame my actions as grander than they truly were. Indeed, Squire Skell, I campaigned for the rule's disposal. Simply put, I saw the restriction as a mistake."
"And you say I never change," criticized Hillcoat. "Don't pretend you didn't put forth one o' the Order's most controversial amendments, and somehow talk the High Judge into signin' off on it."
"Well," Lucival tossed up a gauntlet, "it helped that proving one's knowledge of dark magic is a difficult endeavor."
I struggled to bury my awe. "B-but then, why say we're even? If anything, it sounds like I owe you everything - two times over!"
"Don't be so quick to claim debts," advised the Lionheart. "Especially when unaware of what it is you provide for others. Understand, I challenged the prohibition of dark mages for two reasons. First was out of a sense of justice. Users of different magics are, in the end, the same. They are saints; they are sinners; they are both, and they are human."
"The height of foolishness," Lucival continued to state, "is to look at one man and see in him one million. Similarities between an enemy and an innocent do not then create two enemies… but such false reasoning barred dark mages from the Order for generations. This animosity is entrenched in the veins of Selem - among Templars most of all. Erasing that animosity would take centuries. Yet that doesn't mean we shouldn't take the first steps today. In a way, your position is the next step of this erasure."
He smiled. "After all, you are the first dark mage in history to join the Order."
It sure was strange, to have such a breezy day crash down on my head like a billion boulders. I'm… the first Templar… to be a dark mage? How shading recent was this 'amendment'!?
"As the newest years' Squires," Lucival looked beyond me, "I expect you to regard all under our sun as equals. Templars represent justice and order, not prejudice and bigotry. Although some of your superiors may hold more dated views, that is no excuse not to be better."
It wasn't said outright, but you'd be deaf not to hear the connection between this, and the Order's lone dark mage. He knew what ire my status would bring. Both to the old guard and the new recruits. Being stationed so far away, there was little he could do to smooth relations.
But he's still trying to make sure those in my year won't treat me like a disease…
Of course, Soleil and Yamui couldn't care less that I used dark magic.
Ormine, though? She put on a good face for her idol - but boiling in her stare was the same-old sentiment that I didn't belong. Same for the other two Squires who's names weren't worth remembering.
Hyland, at least, had an easily explained grudge. Which made it eerier how often he smiled at me. Or more accurately - my Squire garb.
Conversely, Ryzza and Cirian seemed deeply unsure. I didn't sense hostility from them - especially after I reconnected with Niles. Still. I got the impression they'd rather give me a wide berth, if for no other reason than to not get lumped in with the 'dark mage'.
The rest of the Order will sit somewhere along this spectrum. And plenty are gonna see me like Karthwyn does. I sighed. I'll need to be ready.
"As for the second reason," said Lucival, "I believe fresh perspectives may be exactly what the Order needs. And what are the eight elements, if not schools of thought?"
Again, his words stunned everyone. The Judge deliberated awhile before he spoke again. "Our Order, revered as it is, bears shortcomings. The sort I hope the next generation will squash. But that will beg key differences in mindset from the veterans. Myself included."
So that's why he thinks we're even. If anyone's got a fresh perspective, its someone who uses an element fueled by emotions the other Templars never summon. But, dark magic is powered by negative emotion… isn't it? How can that help the Templars?
Lucival's eyes returned to me. "Apologies if I've saddled you with an unthinkable burden. Preferably this would've gone unsaid. However, these circumstances free me to say this: as you have likely surmised, eyes shall monitor every action you take, being who you are. Handle them like a true Templar would. The same goes for the rest of you."
He lifted a rose-pink finger. "Ah, but that is enough conversation. As delightful as it would become further acquainted, time is an almighty force, unconcerned with how much remains to be done. In you, I have complete faith, Squires and stablehands both. May the sun light your way. Always."
After a flawless Templar bow, Lucival and his gryphon bolted high overhead. Whipping around by his silk-white cape, the Judge blasted off for the Crystal Château.
I wouldn't see him again for a long time.
Everyone was, as expected, bummed to see him fly off, and while I joined them, another thought bloodied its knuckles on my mind's door.
If I disappear from the Order, not only will I taint the idea of a dark mage Templar, but I'll also spit in the face of Lucival's efforts. He wants what's best for Lumerit; a goal reaching worlds farther than any one man's life. But I can't bear to live as an undead any longer than I gotta. So… where does that leave me?
"Truly regrettable, his departure," twinkles rolled down Baudelaire's face as Lucival became a twinkle in the sky. "But the show must go on. As always, the Judge is correct. Time waits for no soul."
"…The reception is next, right?" asked Ormine. Like the others, most of her attention was left to absorb everything Lucival said.
"A keen memory!" complimented the tall man. "Yes, there will be drinks, food, and socialization. Yes, very much of that. Oh, what a wonderous event! Onwards, my friends," he guided, tipping his hat to the stablehands, "to the venue hall!"
"Buh-bye!" waved Maunie.
"Best o' luck," Hillcoat flashed a quick grin after glancing at the Château. "And don't get too drunk!"
…Wish I could get drunk. I followed after the adjutant, ducking the gazes of the Squires around me. Would help me forget just how complicated things are about to get…