____________________
The noblest and greatest of souls, who watches over the lupical of Wolvendom.
When the wolfpack is imperiled, it will emerge in the form of a wolf and show forth its fangs and claws.
The wolves of Wolvendom are frightening phantoms to the people of Mondstadt, but their leader, the ancient North Wind had once given his all for the sake of the people and the nation.
In order to safeguard the humanity, the Wolf King would select a successor among men and bless him the power to protect Mondstadt.
- The North Wind and his Knight
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(The Isle of Apples, Tower of Beginnings, Avalon)
The Isle of Apples, contrary to its namesake, is not an island but rather it is the sprawling mystical garden that surrounds the Tower of Beginnings, the main seat of power within the realm of Avalon.
Sheltered and separated from the rest of the growing city of Camelot by the outer enclosure walls of the Tower, the Isle of Apples is one of the most favorite places of the God-queen of Avalon where she usually spends her leisure.
It is a private sanctuary filled with bizarre yet breathtaking flora and fauna, crafted by the Primordial goddess herself as an ode to the paradise that was once old Britain, where magic and fae once roam free alongside humanity.
For the past 4 days since the defeat of Haden's abyssal legion and the subsequent ascension of Avalon's newest heiress, a large section of the Isle was utilized as a makeshift play area for the five scions of the divine throne.
Their playful laughter and glee echoed throughout the gardens as they ran around playing with each other or occasionally using the Tower's Enforcement Knights as impromptu jungle gyms!
Their ever doting divine mother, would always watch them carefully by the side, sitting on one of the marbled benches as she blissfully knits a new set of clothes for her 3 precious little daughters.
That scene of domestic bliss had been a constant norm in that specific area of the garden for the past few days, on the fifth day however, no childish laughter was heard.
For on that 5th day, in that very same corner of the garden, heavy and forceful swishes coupled by strained guttural breathing were instead heard, all coming from one young man…
Varka was rigorously practicing his swordsmanship skills.
Repeating and rehearsing his two handed style again and again like a possessed mad man!
For the last 4 hours, the squire of the Grand Master had been pushing himself to the limit, as if he was fighting for his life against an entire tribe of Hilichurls!
His tunic was now completely soaked with sweat as he kept pushing his body forward, and the calluses on his hands had become so sore that they began to bleed.
For every swing of his swords, the young man kept remembering the tragic scenes he had encountered from that dreadful night five days ago.
'HOLD THE LINE!'
'Brother hang in there!'
'MY LEG! MY LEG!'
'THERE TOO MANY OF THEM!'
'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!'
Varka closed his eyes for a split second as he swung his sword in a wide arc. In his mind's eye, he could still vividly see the faces of those mercenaries. Those poor men and women who fought alongside them and eventually fell to the tides of abyssal monsters.
He was no stranger to death and gore. He himself saw how his dear master brutally and efficiently slaughtered dozens of criminals in a blink of an eye.
Yet, despite being surrounded by such violence and seeing numerous deaths during his apprenticeship, Varka had never felt so powerless before.
So weak…
'Not strong enough. I... I'm not strong enough!' The young knight thought as he pushed himself even more.
'If only I was stronger, then they wouldn't have died!'
He was nearing his physical edge when he let out one final roar as he performed a powerful strike which managed to split one of the numerous apple trees that dotted the area into two halves!
Exhaustion then took hold of him…
He swayed a little as he felt himself getting lighter and his vision began to blur. But before he could fall flat on the grassy ground, a pair of hands caught him.
"Easy there, my dear student. You are pushing yourself too much." A serene and familiar feminine voice said to him.
Varka's eyes widened as he recognized the voice.
He turned and saw the beautiful face of his master, the Grand Master herself, looking down at him with concern.
The young knight tried to get out of her grasp, not wanting to bother her, but the grip of his master was just too strong and firm like solid steel!
"My Lady...my master. F-forgive me! I...I" before he could say anything else, Artoria shushed him with a gentle pat on the head.
"Hush now, Varka. Hush now. You need to rest."
Artoria then guided him towards a nearby marble bench, where she sat him down and then sat beside him.
She then conjured a glass of water, which the 17 year old boy gratefully accepted, and drank its entire contents in a single go.
After Varka calmed down a bit, Artoria spoke again.
"You know, I consider it quite rude if someone destroys another person's apple tree without asking permission." She said, her lips forming into a teasing grin while pointing at the now halved fruit tree.
"I...I'm sorry my master. I...I..." Varka tried to apologize again, but this time the Grand Master placed a single finger on his lips, silencing him.
"I was just teasing you Varka. No need to fret about those things, although my adorable little Venti would be quite disappointed when he later finds out that an apple tree was unintentionally cut down." Artoria replied, her teasing grin now turned into a warm smile.
"Now then my dear student...care to explain to me, why are you pushing yourself to an early grave, especially that it's only been 5 days since the battle? Should you atleast be resting?" The motherly goddess asked as her demeanor shifted from being playful to a more serious one.
The sudden change in tone from his master made Varka nervous. He knew that she would not accept any half-baked excuses from him, especially not when it comes to matters concerning well-being, both for him and her children.
"Ummm...I...I was...just trying to...ummm..."
The young stammered, trying to come up with an excuse. Sweat began to form on his forehead as he tried to avoid the gaze of his all-knowing Grand Master.
"Varka." Artoria said, her tone was now fully stern and serious.
Her emerald eyes narrowed as she sensed a lie in the words of her apprentice.
"I...I was just honing my skills, master! Just a...just a small practice. That's all!" The young squire answered, trying to maintain eye contact.
A few seconds of awkward silence passed between them before Artoria suddenly flicked her apprentice's forehead.
"Ouch!" the young knight yelped as he rubbed his now redden forehead.
"I thought I taught you better than that, my dear student. Never lie to your master!" Artoria said with a slightly annoyed tone.
Varka immediately realized the error of his ways and gave in.
"I...I'm sorry, Master. I...I was just...I'm just..." he struggled to say the words as the guilt kept eating him inside.
Artoria placed her hands on the young knight's shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.
"Tell me, what's bothering you, Varka? You know that you can tell me anything. So please, tell me what's wrong." She said, her tone softened with motherly concern.
The young man had always thought of his master as a second mother. A woman who had always genuinely looked out for him and guided him for the past 5 years.
She was the reason why a nobody country boy like him was able to join the Knights and find a new purpose in life.
He could never bear to hide anything from her.
Varka looked at her, tears now welling in his eyes as the emotions he had been suppressing for the past five days finally broke free.
"It's...It's about what happened during the attack, Master. During the battle that took placed at Wangshu Inn." He said, his voice now trembling.
"They…" Varka chuckled pathetically before continuing his story.
"They now called it the Battle of Wangshu Inn. They now celebrate the bravery that we of the Knights of Favonius had shown to the world. Painting us as fearless and powerful heroes akin to the legends of old. Yet, I….I…"
Varka momentarily paused, almost unable to say the words.
"I...I felt so powerless." He confessed, as tears started to fall from his face.
"I...I saw them. I saw those men, those mercenaries, die in front of me. I saw some of them get injured. I...I tried to save them, I really did!"
"I tried rallying them, hoping to rouse them from their fear and save them from their despair."
"But...but no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many monsters I killed that night, it wasn't enough!"
"They....they have...they have families waiting for them! Brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers. And now...now they're gone!"
"I couldn't...I couldn't save them! I couldn't save all of them!" Varka cried, as he buried his face into Artoria's shoulder, sobbing like a child.
"I'm so sorry, Master. I failed. I failed you and the Order! I'm not worthy of becoming a knight!"
For a few moments, Artoria allowed her young apprentice to cry out his frustrations. She gently patted him on the back, letting him pour out all of his emotions.
Then after a few minutes, when Varka's sobs began to subside, Artoria's expression hardened.
The Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius then pushed her squire slightly away and looked him straight in the eye.
"FOOL!" She exclaimed, her voice now cold and stern.
The sudden change in demeanor from his master shocked Varka, who was now looking at her with wide, tear-filled eyes.
"You speak as if you were the one who killed them! You speak as if their deaths were your fault!"
"You speak as if you, a mere squire, could have prevented all of those things from happening! You think too highly of yourself, Varka!" She continued, her words laced with a hint of anger.
"But worst of all, you also think too lowly of them!" Artoria's eyes blazed with a holy fury.
"Those mercenaries were not just some random ragtag group of sellswords. They were warriors who chose to fight!"
"They chose to stand their ground and face the horde of abyssal monsters even though they knew the risks that were involved!"
"On that night, they fought not for glory or mora! They fought for the inn and for the people inside it!"
Artoria furiously stood up in front of her squire
"They fought so that others may live!"
"And you, Varka, youDARED to cry over their deaths?! You DARED to think that their sacrifice was for naught?!"
"That is an insult to their memory!"
"AN INSULT TO THEIR LEGACY!"
Varka was stunned into silence. He had never seen his master this angry before, and the words she spoke struck him deep in his core.
After some moment, Artoria gradually softened her expression. She then reached out and gently caressed the young man's cheek wiping some of his tears away.
"Varka, no one, not even me, can save everyone. To do so is a fool's errand. A path that will only lead you to martyrdom with no chances of redemption."
"Take it from me, my dear student. I've known people who had walked down that road before…"
"Even...I had done so to some extent. And all it brought was nothing more than pain and sorrow." She said, a hint of sadness in her voice.
"A never ending cycle of self-destruction."
"Being a knight, following the code of chivalry, means that you must be fair in your judgment, not only to others but to yourself as well."
"You must not go into extremes. Varka, I beg you, do not delude yourself with the idea of saving everyone you encounter!" Artoria's very own verdant orbs moistened as she looked into her own squire's eyes.
"A person who believes too much in justice, a person who would seek to save everyone, would often become the very monster they had wished to avoid."
She then looked to the endless clear skies of her realm and continued her tale. Her voice now soft and gentle.
"Five hundred years ago, during the time of the Cataclysm, a powerful knight from our Order, a man by the name of Roland, became so obsessed with his own brand of justice and chivalry that he ultimately became lost and turned into a blood-stained monster." Artoria then looked at the now confused Varka and then continued.
"He was a good man, a loyal knight who swore to protect the innocent, so much so that they called him the White Knight. But his beliefs became twisted, corrupted by the horrors he witnessed during those dark times."
"He believed that in order to protect everyone, he must eliminate all who he deemed evil, even if it meant sacrificing the innocent in the process."
"His polished armor and sword would slowly turn black, tainted by the blood he had spilled in the name of his twisted justice."
"After many years of killing and following his own brand of justice, Roland became the very thing he swore to fight against. A monster who only saw the world in two colors, black and white, with no room for gray."
"In the end, he disappeared. His path led him into a dark and lonely road, ending with him being consumed by the Abyss itself."
Varka, upon hearing the story of the tragic knight, was left speechless.
He never knew that one of their own, a proud member of the Knight of Favonius from the days of old, would fall to such a dark fate!
The tale had left him fearful to the core.
"Now do you understand, Varka? Being a knight is not about being perfect. It's about being human, with all the flaws and imperfections that come with it."
"To serve all, but love only one."
"Humans are complex creatures, each with a will of their own. As knights….no, as other human beings, we can give them suggestions or even try to stir them away from trouble. But ultimately, at the end, the final choice will always remain with the person."
"If they choose to sacrifice their lives for the greater good, then so be it. But rather than being guilty over their deaths, we should celebrate their lives and their legacy."
Artoria gently patted Varka's shoulder.
"Those mercenaries, they knew the risks. Yet they chose to fight. They risked everything, even their own lives, for the sake of something greater than their own."
"So instead of wallowing in pity, you should be happy for the lives they had lived. The courage they had shown!"
Varka looked at his master. His fears now forgotten as his previously guilt-ridden thoughts were slowly being replaced by a newfound understanding.
She was right. Those mercenaries were heroes, and their sacrifice should not be in vain…
"I...I think I understand now, Master. Thank you." He said, a small smile forming on his face.
"Thank you so much."
Artoria smiled back at him, her emerald eyes filled with pride.
"Good. Now, let's talk about your future!"
Artoria then stood up once again and walked a few steps away, before turning back to face her squire.
"Varka, do you know about the core tenets of Knighthood?" She asked.
Varka nodded. He had memorized them by heart during his studies.
"Yes, Master. Courage, loyalty, justice, mercy, generosity, faith, and nobility." He recited.
"Correct. Now, tell me, do you think you have broken any of those tenets?" Artoria asked, a curious expression on her face.
Varka thought for a moment, before answering.
"I...I think I did, Master. I let my emotions get the better of me. I...I was not courageous enough to face the reality of the situation. I...I failed." He said, his voice once agajn filled with a tinge of disappointment.
Artoria chuckled.
"No, Varka. You didn't fail."
"Even though you allowed yourself to be swallowed by your pride and self-loathing, you were still able to express some of those tenets."
"You showed courage by facing your feelings and confessing them to me."
"You showed loyalty to the fallen mercenaries by honoring their memories."
"You showed justice by acknowledging your own shortcomings."
"You showed mercy by forgiving yourself."
"You showed generosity by sharing your story with me."
"You showed faith in me by trusting my words."
"And you showed nobility by accepting your fate and learning from your mistakes."
"Recognizing your failings is not a sign of weakness, Varka. It is a sign of being human, and humanity is needed in order for someone to be a knight." Artoria's voice was filled with warmth and compassion.
Varka looked at his master as his heart began swelling with gratitude and admiration towards the woman he considered as his hero.
"I...I understand, Master. Thank you. I will do better next time. I promise." He said, a newfound determination burning in his eyes.
Artoria smiled. She was proud of her squire, the young man she had picked after the incident behind the old creek meadow in Springvale so many years ago.
He had the potential to become a great knight, a true champion of Mondstadt.
"I know you will, Varka. I know you will."
As Artoria was praising her student, she then recalled her most recent encounter with Boreas, the North Wind.
She would often visit the old wolf spirit in his lair of Wolvendom, bringing him gifts of delicious meat and apple pies.
*****
(Flashback: Wolvendom, Mondstadt - few days before the start of the diplomatic mission to Liyue)
Ever since their initial encounter years ago, Boreas had become docile whenever he's in the presence of Artoria, acting like a sort overgrown obedient puppy whenever she's around.
Heck, the ancient wolven spirit even started to call her 'Mother' when no one else was present, for according to him, Artoria greatly reminded him so much of his first 'Mother', the one who gave him his abilities in the first place!
It was during her last visit, days before the start of her diplomatic journey to Liyue that Boreas told her something important.
Artoria at that time was enjoying a rare peaceful afternoon in Wolvendom after finalizing the preparations for her upcoming trip.
The Anemo Archon was blissfully humming a sweet peaceful melody as she rested upon the back of the giant wolf spirit, who in turn, was laying on a large patch of grass surrounded by the rest of his pack.
The giant wolf's purring sounds were like the rumbling of a distant thunderstorm, a clear sign that he was happy and content.
Artoria's fingers were running through his soft, silver blue fur as she enjoyed the peaceful scenery around her.
The warm afternoon sun…
The gentle breeze…
The lingering smell of ripe wolfhooks that lingered across the forest….
It was moments like these that made her truly love her new home of Mondstadt.
"Mother, there is something I must tell you." Boreas's deep, ancient voice suddenly spoke, breaking the peaceful silence.
"Yes, my dear Boreas? What is it?" Artoria asked, her fingers still stroking the wolf's fur.
The wolf hesitated a bit before continuing.
"As the Anemo Archon, I'm sure you knew about the importance of the Four Winds right?" He said.
"Of course. And aren't you one of them too? The North Wind." Artoria replied, a little curious about what her giant ancient puppy was trying to say.
"Yes, but my status is somewhat 'special'. Rather, my position unlike the other three winds had always been 'shared', usually by me and another." He answered.
"Shared? Ah yes, you're talking about the Knight of Boreas." Artoria said, her interest now peaked.
"Yes, the Knight of Boreas. A title held by certain individuals who's strength and character had been personally recognized by me. A human champion who serves as my counterpart. A mortal partner that represents my will and power in the human realm." Boreas explained.
The ancient wolf paused for a bit, his head lowering in sadness.
"That title, was first held by that 'annoying but charismatic prick' who convinced me to come back here in Mondstadt about 1000 years ago. Ever since then, there had been a long line of knights who held that title, most of them selected among the ranks of the Knights of Favonius."
"However, the last holder of the title. The last person to have ever gained my approval was a man who goes by the name Jericho." The wolf's head lowered even more.
"You mean 'the Old Wolf', Grand Master Jericho, right?" Artoria too solemnly replied.
Grand Master Valentine Jericho, also known as the Old Wolf, was the longest serving Grand Master in the history of the Knights of Favonius.
Holding the mantle of Grand Master for almost 40 years, he tried to rebuild the crumbling Order from centuries of decay that followed after the Cataclysm.
Though he couldn't fully prevent that slow death of his Order, his reign was fondly remembered by the citizens of Mondstadt as a time of relative peace.
"Sadly he passed away more than 10 years ago." Boreas replied.
"Passed away? More likemurdered." Artoria retorted as a dark shadow was casted over her bright emerald eyes.
Her direct predecessor's twisted ambition had no bounds!
"During my early days as Grand Master, I launched an invistigative inquiry concerning the sudden death of Grand Master Jericho. The initial reports that were published during the time of his passing stated that he died due to 'natural causes' in relation to old age, but my investigation uncovered the truth."
"Grand Master Jericho, who was already 72 years old before the time of his death, had two direct apprentices, both were Gunnhildrs, one of which he had secretly chosen as his successor, days before his demise."
"His personal diaries, which we had uncovered, hidden away in a carefully concealed crate, showed that Jericho had chosen his more reliable student, Frederica Gunnhildr, as his immediate successor.
The old Grand Master himself had already planned to step down after more than four decades of serving as a knight."
The old wolf spirit nodded in agreement with Artoria's words.
"Unfortunately, his decision was something that my 'prestigious predecessor' Randolf Gunnhildr did not like."
"Blinded by his own greed and desire for power, the ambitious bastard decided to take matters into his own hands."
"Subsequent investigations involving that conniving weasel's personal correspondences and letters revealed that Randolf had procured a vile of poison from Sumeru known as 'The Silent Farewell'. It is a slow acting poison that could be mixed with food and water without tampering their taste. The poison would then stop the heart of its victim the moment they enter deep sleep. A perfect tool for assassination."
"Our guess was that Randolf might had secretly mixed the poison into the old man's favorite tea or meal, a few days before he planned to announce his retirement and the identity of the person he had chosen as his successor."
Artoria took a deep breath, as if calming herself from the rising anger within.
"After that, Randolf used his influence and wealth to bribe his way into becoming the next Grand Master, leaving Frederica to be nothing but a simple senior knight and instructor."
"Mondstadt was then plugged into almost six years of steady decline, that was until..."
…..
"Until you unexpectedly arrived, mother." The wolf spirit finished her sentence.
Artoria gave a sad smile and patted the giant wolf's fur.
The ancient wolf then continued.
"With Jericho's untimely demise, the unending line of the Knights of Boreas was halted. The man wasn't able to designate or even trained a successor for the role, leaving the position vacant until this day."
"The line now faces extinction mother, and a new person must take the mantle before its forgotten."
Boreas then looked to Artoria, and she knew what he was about to ask her.
"Mother, if I may be so bold. Would you like to take the mantle of -"
"No." Artoria immediately cut him off.
The wolf spirit's ears drooped in disappointment.
"I'm sorry Boreas, but I'm more of a Lion and a Dragon than a wolf." Artoria said, a playful smirk on her face.
"However... I'm sure you would be delighted to know that I already have the right person in mind for the role. In fact, I've already started training him just a few years ago." Artoria reassured the giant wolf.
"Really?! May I ask who might this person be, Mother?" Boreas's ears perked up in curiosity.
Artoria's eyes then twinkled with a mischievous glint.
"All in due time my dear Boreas. All in due time."
(End of Flashback)
*****
Back in the present, Artoria looked at her now determined squire with pride in her eyes.
'He had grown so much ever since I took him under my wing three and a half years ago. The ruff and tumble teen from Springvale had now matured into a fine young man with a bright future ahead of him.' Artoria thought to herself.
As she walked back in front of him, Varka noticed that his master's expression had now become solemn and serious.
"Varka."
"Yes, Master?" Varka replied, his back now straight and tall.
"From this day forward, you are no longer my squire."
Varka's eyes widened in shock.
'Is…is she getting rid of me?! Did I do something wrong?!' Panic began to rise in his chest.
Artoria then gave him a knowing smile, as if reading his thoughts.
"In recognition of your valor, your unwavering loyalty, and your unwavering commitment to the code of chivalry. At this very moment, with all of Avalon as my witness, I hereby decided to bestow upon you the title of Knight."
'Wha...wha...WHAT?!' Varka's jaw almost dropped to the ground.
He thought he would have to wait for at least another year before becoming a full-fledge knight!
But it seems his master had a different plan!
"Kneel, Varka." Artoria commanded, her voice now booming with authority.
Varka, who was still in a state of shock, immediately knelt in front of her without any hesitation.
His heart was pounding in his chest, as if it was about to burst out.
Artoria stretched out her right hand as a swirl of divine energy began to coalesce around it. She then called forth, one of her most priced heirlooms. The weapon that she had pulled from the stone many centuries ago, when she was still but a naive 15 year old young girl, with dreams of becoming a knight.
The sword that opened up her path to kingship...
The sword that started her legend...
Caliburn. The Golden Sword of the Victorious.
It materialized in her hands. Itsbgolden light shining brightly causing the entire Isle of Apples to appear ever more verdant and alive.
It was a sight that the young apprentice would never forget in his entire life.
Artoria then raised the golden sword with both of her hands, and pointed the flat of its blade towards Varka's shoulders.
"Be without fear in the face of your enemies."
She then gently placed the flat of the golden blade on Varka's right shoulder.
"Be brave and upright, that the gods may love thee."
She then moved the blade to his left shoulder.
"Speak the truth always, even if it leads to your death."
She then placed the blade on the top of his head.
"Safeguard the helpless and do no wrong".
"That is your oath."
Then, without warning, Artoria pulled back her right arm, and with the palm of her hand, she slapped Varka squarely on the face!
*SMACK!*
The force of the slap was so strong that it almost sent the young knight flying, but Varka, through sheer willpower and determination, managed to stay kneeling.
His right cheek was now red, but he didn't show any sign of pain. Instead, he continued to looked at his master solemnly.
"And that is so that you may remember it!"
Artoria then sheathed Caliburn, and a small wave of her hand, the golden sword disappeared into thin air.
She then looked at the young man who was now kneeling before her, a proud smile on her majestic face.
"Rise a Knight."
"Rise a Knight!"
"RISE A KNIGHT!!!"
Varka, with tears of joy streaming down his slightly redden face, rose from his kneeling position, not as a squire, but a full-fledged Knight of Favonius!
Finally after three and a half years of arduous training and apprenticeship, he had finally achieved his lifelong dream!
But Artoria was not done yet.
'It would only be fitting if I gift him with a proper weapon. A weapon worthy of a knight personally trained by me.' Artoria thought to herself, as mulled over what kind of weapon she should give to her newly raised Knight.
She smiled as she looked at her elated apprentice who was now jumping in joy, his excitement barely contained.
'He always has this fiery, sun-like energy in him. Able to shine bright in the darkest of times... always bringing light and warmth to those around him...' Artoria contemplated as she suddenly recalled a loyal knight from her past.
A knight who's image briefly appeared over the jubilant form of his apprentice.
'Yes...I think I have the perfect gift for him.'
Calling forth upon her divine powers, the Primordial Goddess began to recreate a weapon from her past.
A weapon that she deemed perfect for her newly elevated apprentice.
She stretched both of her arms in front of her and with a flick of her wrists, she began to gather her divine energies, in the form of mana-filled ether, weaving them together in countless threads of blue and gold.
These energies then began to coalesce, forming a shimmering sphere of raw power.
With another wave of her hands, the sphere began to elongate and take shape, slowly forming into the shape of a massive great sword, a claymore.
Light and the natural-occuring mana from the surroundings seemed to be drawn into the weapon, making it glow further with an inner brilliance that was both beautiful and intimidating.
The metal of the blade itself seems to be forged from a strange, otherworldly material, with intricate patterns and symbols faintly etched into its surface, particularly on its center.
These symbols glowed with a faint blue light, pulsing with the rhythm of a beating heart.
The hilt of the newly forged weapon was also just as magnificent, with a radiant blue guard, and a grip that was wrapped in a soft, yet durable leather.
After a few more moments of transmutation, the weapon was finally complete.
Artoria held it in her hands as a look of pride and nostalgia appeared in her eyes.
"I once had a knight who served me a long, long time ago." She began to speak, her voice filled with warmth and reverence.
"A knight who's strength alone was unmatched even against his peers."
"His power was so immense that he was even able to defeat me once in a mock duel during the days of my youth, when I was still just starting on my journey." Artoria let out a small chuckle as she recalled the memory.
"He was truly a magnificent knight. One of the most powerful swordsman I had ever known. Yet it was not his skills and strength that cause me to exalt him, but rather his kindness and loyalty to my cause."
"He was a man who valued honor above all else, and who would never hesitate to put his life on the line for his comrades and for the people he cared about."
"Even duringthe darkest days of my 'youth', when hope was but a flickering candle in the wind, he remained steadfast to the values and ideas he believed to be right."
"He was a beacon of light for all to see during those dark times."
Artoria paused as a lone tear dropped from her left eye.
"I was the Moon while he was the Sun. The ever radiant knight who shines in the battlefield and inspires people around him."
"His name is Sir Gawain, the White Knight of the Round Table. One of, if not the greatest Knight to have served me in my humble opinion."
Artoria then looked at the now stunned Varka who had already forgotten his prior jubilation. The newly christened knight was now listening intently to the story that his master was telling him, captivated by every word she spoke.
"And I see in you my dear proud student the same vigor and loyalty that he once had!"
Artoria then presented the newly forged claymore to Varka.
"BEHOLD! My gift to you my former Squire. This is the sword that I had fashioned based upon the very essence and memories of Sir Gawain's personal weapon!"
"Though not the original, it still embodies the ideals and power that it once represented!"
"The sister sword to my blade and the one that you'll carry as you go further down the road of Knighthood!"
"Excalibur Galantine!"
As she finished with her words, the very construct in between her hands flashed with a bright blinding light for one last time before revealing its full majestic glory.
The newly forged claymore, Excalibur Galantine, was truly a sight to behold!
It was simple yet beautiful. And it thrummed with a barely contained power that seemed to emanate from within!
Varka, who was now completely mesmerized by the weapon, slowly reached out for it, as if in a trance.
His hands trembled as he touched the hilt of the claymore.
And when he made contact, a warm unexplained feeling surged throughout his body!
'S..such power!'
As he marveled his gift, the young knight briefly saw a vision.
For a brief moment that was less than a second, the young man saw an image of another blonde haired man clad in shining silver armor!
The man was smiling at him, as if he was giving him his approval!
'Do your best to become a note-worthy knight for me rookie!' the apparition said with a grin, before he suddenly disappeared.
Varka shook his head, trying to clear out his mind.
'Did...Did I just imagine that? Who was that person?'
Artoria saw the brief flash of confusion in her apprentice's face but decided not to comment on it.
'Gawain, you old rascal. Even here, in this foreign place, you still found a way to express yourself. I'm sure he'll do great just as you did.' She thought to herself with a wry smile.
"Take it Varka. It is yours now." Artoria said, as she gently nudged the weapon forward.
Varka took a deep breath and then firmly grasped the hilt of the claymore with both of his hands.
The moment he fully claimed the weapon, he felt what he could best describe as 'the soul of the weapon' flow through him. The claymore's power now resonating with him.
He then did a few practice swings with the weapon, testing its weight and balance.
And to his utter surprise, the blade surprisingly felt light as a feather, despite its massive size!
Varka felt that his new sword was slowly becoming an extension of his own body. But at the same time, he also sensed that the blade was somewhat…hesitant, like it refused to give him further power.
"Master, this...this weapon...it feels...amazing! But, what is it exactly? I can feel that this is no ordinary weapon." Varka said with a look of confusion and excitement both etched on his face.
Artoria smiled at her apprentice's question.
"You are right, Varka. That blade is no ordinary weapon."
She paused for a moment before her expression became serious.
"That weapon, my dear student, is what a few would call, aNoble Phantasm."
Varka's confusion deepened upon hearing the foreign and unknown term.
"Noble...Phantasm?"
"Yes. Noble Phantasms are not just ordinary weapons for they are the crystalized embodiments of the ideals of the heroes who once wielded them."
"HEROES?!" Varka shouted in surprise, now becoming even more curious about the nature of the sword he now helds.
"Indeed, heroes."
"Heroes who's deeds and legends have been immortalized in the annals of history. Great individuals who's very existences had became symbols of something far greater than themselves."
Artoria paused for a bit, allowing her words to sink right into the mind of her apprentice. She wanted Varka to have an idea of the otherworldly weapon that was now in his grasp.
"Noble Phantasms are akin to ideas made manifest through the spirit of the heroic person, similar to how our world was formed by the will of the One Who Sits Above the Celestia Throne, but on a much smaller scale. They could appear as swords, bows, any other types of weapons or even as pocket dimensions."
"They are mysteries given form and normally cannot be replicated or understood by any regular person."
Artoria then pointed at the newly forged claymore.
"The strength of a noble phantasm depends on multiple factors, such as the legend of the hero who wields it, the amount of magic he or she can provide and lastly on the circumstances in which that noble phantasm is being use."
"Some noble phantasms are strong enough to overwhelm entire armies, while others are so powerful that they could even destroy a mountain!"
"They are, in all essence, the trump cards of Heroes who once wielded them. Their ultimately techniques!"
"In the case of Excalibur Galantine, that noble phantasm you now hold in your hands was created based on the original sword of Sir Gawain. A blade that mimics the power of the sun, and shines the brightest when the sun is at its highest peak."
"But be warned. This sword has a mind and spirit of its own."
"Though I'm giving it to you, you must prove yourself worthy of its use. Only when the sword fully recognizes you as a worthy master, will you unlock its fullest potential!"
"For now though it is nothing more than a stronger than average blade."
Varka, upon hearing his master's warning, tightened his grip on the hilt of the claymore. A new goal now burns in his heart, as he looked down on his sword.
"Understood Master! I will train even harder to prove myself worthy of this noble weapon! I swear upon my honor as a knight that I will not fail you and Sir Gawain!" He passionately declared.
Artoria nodded with a warm smile, as she peacefully watched the excitement in her student's eyes. She had finally done it. After so many years and lifetime, she had finally able to raise a knight by her own!
Varka's triumph was also her triumph. The triumph of a mentor who had successfully raised her student well.
As Varka continued to relish on his ascension with a newfound sense of purpose and determination, a curious question suddenly appeared in his mind.
It was a question that had been bugging him ever since he was chosen to be his master to be her squire and apprentice…
A question that was reignited after seeing her perform feats that no ordinary human nor magician were capable of doing…
And he felt, that now was the perfect time to finally address it.
"Master, may...may I ask you something?" He asked, a bit hesitant.
Artoria nodded, her emerald eyes looking at him with kindness.
"Ever since we've met back in the old creek meadow, I've always sensed something... otherworldly in you."
"Your strength and combat prowess were unparalleled, defying all logic and reason."
"There's always an air of mystique around you that calms and captivates anyone who's near you."
"And...and just a few days ago, I... I've learned about this hidden pocket dimension of sorts that only you and those you deemed worthy can access too!"
Varka further emphasized his last statement by waving his free hand around the beautiful and utterly peaceful scenery that surrounded them.
"For years, many back in Mondstadt including myself, believed that you're a blessed emissary sent by the Anemo Archon himself."
"A hero sent by our gracious Lord to save and defend Mondstadt along with its values of values of freedom and honor!"
"That's the only plausible answer that many us could think of Master."
Varka took a deep breath before finally asking the most important question of all.
"So who exactly are you, Master?"
Artoria's lips curled into a mischievous smile. The same smile that would always appear whenever she was about to unleash one of her little pranks on someone!
'Oh this is gonna be fun, ehe!' She thought to herself.
"Hmmm...an emissary you say? Or even a blessed hero! My, what wonderful and creative compliments you gave me, my dear student." Artoria said with a playful and teasing voice.
"But I think these words would be more suited in describing me instead."
She then took a step forward, cleared her throat and with a playful grin she began her little 'prank'.
"Oh, Lord Barbatos! Please hear this humble squire's prayers and please give me strength in the upcoming days!"
Varka's eyes WIDENED in disbelief as he heard his master imitate a prayer to the Anemo Archon. HIS PRAYER!
"Oh mighty Anemo Archon, benevolent god of Mondstadt, I humbly ask that you give me swift legs so that may outrun Captain Hemlock who was always nagging me about doing patrol rounds!" She continued, her grin widening even more.
Varka's face started to pale.
Those were the exact words of one of the many prayers he had silently whispered to himself about a year ago!
It was a prayer he silently muttered during a windy autumn afternoon before Captain Hemlock dragged his butt and forced him to do patrol duties around Springvale!
"Oh, gracious god of all Mondstadt. PLEASE OH PLEASE GRANT ME 5 MORE MINUTES OF SLEEP TONIGHT so that I won't wake up feeling groggy from the Hangover that is to come!"
That final 'prayer' completely broke the young knight's mind!
His jaw had nearly fallen into the ground and his eyes were now as wide as saucers as he looked at his master, who was now giggling like a schoolgirl!
'HOW?! HOW DID SHE KNOW?!' Varka screamed in panic inside of his mind!
'I've only prayed them silently in my room, and I'm pretty sure no one has ever heard them during those times!'
Unless...
Varka's eyes slowly widened as he looked at his master's cheshire grin.
The realization of a truth that only a select few had ever known slowly started to seep into his young mind!
'No...she couldn't possibly be!'
…..
'SHE COULDN'T BE THE ANEMO ARCHON?!'
"I think you've already realized the answer, my dear student." Artoria spoke, with the tone of her voice now a mixture of playfulness and seriousness.
"Do...do...do other people know about this Mast...I mean Lord, no I mean your Holiness! -" Varka was now but a stammering mess, trying to get the right words out of his mouth!
His mind still trying to process the bombshell that had just been dropped on him!
"Why yes, quite a few of them actually." Artoria replied nonchalantly with a shrug.
"I mean, why do you think several of the higher ups have such a 'stalwart devotion' towards my every beck and call." She mused, relishing the expression of her young apprentice who now has a face that made him looked like a fish out of water!
Then out of nowhere, the newly minted knight suddenly prostrated himself at the feet of his now newly revealed god!
"FORGIVE ME YOUR HOLINESS! FORGIVE ME FOR I HAVE SINNED!" Varka cried out loud, as he repeatedly slammed his forehead onto the soft grassy ground.
"I DID NOT KNOW IT WAS YOU WHO I WAS PRAYING TO! I BEG FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS!"
Artoria couldn't help but facepalm at the antics of her overreacting apprentice.
"FORGIVE ME FOR THOSE IMPURE THOUGHTS I HAD ABOUT YOUR-!"
"Hmmm? About impure thoughts about what Varka?" Artoria cluelessly asked as she raised an eyebrow.
Varka immediately paused as a bright blush began creeping up to his face!
"Uhhh...nevermind your Holiness! For...forget what I just said! It was nothing! Just a slip of the tongue!" Varka stammered as he frantically waved his hands.
(Teenagers and their uncontrolled hormonal urges…)
Artoria just giggled at the flustered state of her apprentice. She couldn't help but find his antics quite amusing and adorable.
"Oh, get up Varka." She said, as she extended her right arm to help the stammering young knight stand up.
"We're not here to talk about my other identity."
"The main focus of the matter here is you!" She proclaimed, placing both her hands on Varka's shoulders.
"Remember you are now a knight, my dearest student. But still, even though you're now elevated to the status of a knighthood, you still have many things to learn."
Varka, though still flushed with embarrassment, listened intently to the words of his Archon.
"Though you're no longer my squire, you are still my apprentice and thus I expect that you not only continue your training, but also your studies."
"Learn everything that you can and I promise you that you'll grow up into an exceptionally fine knight."
She then gave him a look like what a mother would give to her child.
"One that I would be most proud of."
Varka, who had just went through a whirlwind of emotions, was now once again in the verge of tears.
Tears of pride, joy and even a bit of embarrassment began to once again trickle down his face.
Here he was, a simple boy from Springvale, now being personally trained and guided by his revered mentor who just personally revealed herself as the Anemo Archon!
The goddess of the nation he had sworn to protect!
To him, this was more than a dream come true!
"I...I will not fail you, my...my Archon! I will become a knight! One that you would be most proud of! I promise!" He declared as he shouted his words into the skies of Avalon.
Artoria smiled warmly at her apprentice and nodded.
'The young seeds of the next generation of knights are starting to sprout.' She thought to herself.
As Varka tried to savor in the moment of his promise, all the while trying still to come into terms with the fact that he had been praying to his own master for the past three years, Artoria once more recalled the words she had imparted to Boreas.
A promise that she had sworn to one of her four winds.
'Do not worry Boreas, I will train the next champion worthy of taking on the mantle of Knight of the North Wind.'
The said champion in question was now holding up his newly given blade in a mighty posture. Raising it up high, as if to show the entire realm the pride he now carries.
Artoria let out a small chuckle after seeing her apprentice's quirky antics.
'He's still rough around the edges, but he has the potential, just as Sir Gawain had back then.'
"Go forth, Wolf Pup of Mondstadt." Artoria declared.
"Grow strong and show the world your claws!"
(End of Chapter)
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(Knight of Boreas)
- The Knight of Boreas is a title held by certain individuals who have been specially recognized by Boreas, the Wolf of the North.
- Traditionally, these individuals have been Grand Masters or exceptional individuals from the Knights of Favonius.
- As the Knight of Boreas, the holder shares the same title and position held by Boreas in the Four Winds, namely the North Wind. He acts as a mediator between the great wolven spirit and the rest of Mondstadt.
- There were three instances in Mondstadt's history that the line of the Knights of Boreas almost went extinct. TheFirst one was approximately one thousand years ago when the first holder of the title, the Wandering Knight died without leaving a designated successor. His friend and companion, Ravenwood later took up the mantle. The Second instance was 500 years ago during the time of the Cataclysm where the holder of the title, the knight named Rostam fell in battle with the abyss. His supposed successor, Roland unfortunately went mad with his own delusions of justice and was subsequently consumed by the abyss. The Third and most recent near extinction of the line, occured more than 10 years ago, when the Old Wolf, Grand Master Valentine Jericho was murdered without formally confirming a successor.
- The current line of Knights is temporarily on hold until the current purported successor is deemed ready.
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