Volume 1 - CH 1.3

“…Well, that’s that,” I sighed, closing the book.

The Roun of Orisons was to receive me on the morrow. There, I would attain odyl, the power to fight the Nafilim—they who so bear ill intent towards and commit ill deeds upon our kind. They, who from birth are each instilled with powerful odyl of their own.

It is said that in ages long gone, men were bereft of odyl and could do little against the Nafilim but be overrun by them. Rakliammelech’s feats six hundred years past, however, brought odyl into the hands of men at long last. With it, they faced the Nafilim—an effort that continued on through the centuries.

Here in this kingly realm of Londosius, any who are received at the Roun of Orisons are also qualified to enter into the service of the Chivalric Order. Nobles in particular are keen on this, with no small number conscripting into the Order as soon as they are able.

The kingdom itself is founded upon the congregations of resistance against the Nafilim. As such, the nobles see themselves honour-bound to join the fight. Emilie and I were no different—we both planned to join the Order together.

It is scarcely the case that the sons and daughters of nobility are sent to theatres of war deemed perilous overmuch. Serve the Order for a number of years, receive the rites of investiture, gain a degree of combat experience, and then return home to one’s domain—such is the career laid out for us young nobles. To those of our station, there is otherwise little reason to join the Order.

But I thought differently.

For as long as I could remember, the legends of chivalric gallantry were a great fascination to me, so much so that I came to harbour dreams of becoming a knight myself. It was for that very reason that I honed my swordsmanship more doggedly than any other I knew.

The time would come someday when I would take the reins of this patch of territory, though thankfully, my father was yet hale in his health. Knighthood was my ambition, and it was my aim to remain a knight for as long as I could.

And of course, there was Emilie. I dared not leave her out of the picture. Apparently, there are nobles who’ve wedded during the course of their military service. Comforted by this precedent, I intended to propose to her sometime before the barony was to pass to me. And after fulfilling my dreams and becoming a man that even I can be proud of, I would set out for my homecoming.

Such was my wish. Such was my hope.

♰

“Today’s the day, Rolf! Let’s give it our all!” Emilie cheered, her hands clenched with determination.

“I’m afraid our ‘all’ amounts to little, Emilie,” I remarked. “Kneel before the Reverend, close our eyes—‘tis done before we know it.” And rightfully so, for the one officiating the Roun of Orisons was the priest, after all. It was his shoulders that bore the work.

“But wouldn’t it be nice to let Yoná know of the ardour in our hearts? Surely She’ll answer in kind!” my fiancée countered.

“I say Emilie has a point, Brother. I’ll be coming to watch your heroic performance myself, so pray give your all to earn Her grace,” said Felicia, with a firm mind in accompanying us to the church. But with so heavy a word like ‘heroic,’ I feared my own mind was aught but firm.

“Performance, you say? Well… if you insist, Felicia,” I relented. “For you, I’ll put on my best act.”

“One worthy of ovation, I would hope!” said Felicia. “After the curtains close, it will be long before we next meet. It would please me to have one more memory of you for the while, Brother…”

Emilie and I had arrangements to enlist in the 5th Chivalric Order very soon after the Roun of Orisons wrapped up. The base of operations for the 5th was located in the march of Norden, a territory neighbouring the royal capital, and our departure for the march was scheduled on the day after the ceremony itself. A trip between the Buckmann barony where we were and the march of Norden was not in and of itself a particularly long journey, but it was also one not to be taken at leisure.

“But you’ll be enlisting yourself, won’t you Felicia? In the coming year, that is,” I asked. “We’ll keep a seat warm for you.”

“Yeah, Felicia! A year passes before you know it!”

“My hope that it will. I’ll be right on your heels, you two!”

Warm smiles were shared between us.

“And how about you, Rolf?” Emilie asked, turning to me. “Knighthood is right on the horizon, at last!”

“‘Tis the same horizon we both look upon, isn’t it Emilie?”

“That’s true, but I’m hardly the one who’s been dreaming of it for, what, ten years now, it’s been? The wait’s almost over, Rolf!”

“I share in Emilie’s thoughts, Brother. For such a momentous occasion, you seem the tree unswayed by the merry winds.”

That my dream alone gave spark to these girls’ gazes was most endearing.

“A year of swainhood comes first; we’ll be as saplings toiling against winds of a different temperament, I’m afraid. Once we’ve taken root, though, we must ply ourselves till we’ve earned our investitures,” I explained. “I’ve no doubt it’s on the horizon, but the distance spans more deeply than we’d like.”

“Oh Brother, you have but to receive your accolade right as the second year opens. Then, you’ll be a proud knight by the time I’m a swain myself!”

“Felicia’s on to something! We should celebrate both milestones at once! Together, of course!”

“Now, you two. Didn’t I just say it wasn’t going to be that easy…?”

A shade of anxiety hung in my heart, I admit, but thanks to the girls, I felt its mists lift as the trip went on.

♰

Solemnity draped the church more palpably than usual. Forgathered within were children from all corners of the Buckmann barony, each having celebrated their fifteenth birthdays this year. A shared tension was written upon each of their faces as they lined down the aisle.

Further in was a statue of the Deiva, Yoná. Framed by a pane of stained glass from behind, She cast a grave gaze down upon us all. At Her likeness’ base stood the priest, flanked by a pair of knights—personnel from the 5th Order, the same we were to enlist in. Their twofold charge was to act as the priest’s bodyguards and to survey the odyl of prospective recruits.

“Well met and congratulations, all of you,” greeted the priest. “Fifteen years have safely brought each of you here today.”

What followed was a narration of the story of St. Rakliammelech. How he suffered the ill deeds of the Nafilim, realised the cruelty of the world, and communed with Yoná—all passionately recounted to us so gathered.

“To that end, only for that which is good and just must you employ the gift of odyl—the same to be bestowed upon each of you on this day.”

Everyone present had their eyes and ears fixed to the priest’s sermon in great earnest. Glancing over, I found Emilie’s profile to be no less taken by the solemnity.

“Henceforth shall we commence the Roun of Orisons. Pray mind your order.”

Our nerves collectively frayed further. Up ahead, a boy was summoned forth. The steps he took on his way to the priest were clumsy and ill at ease. Once there, he received a translucent quartz crystal from the holy man, wrapped it in both his hands, knelt down, and closed his eyes. The priest, for his part, raised a palm towards the boy’s forehead, and with a sonorous voice, began to chant.

“O Yoná, Deiva Suprēma, Aegis of Man from the Empyrean on high. Here, we adjureth Thee, Most Divine, of Thy Grace, that we may stayeth the march of the Wicked, and answereth the entreaty of sons and daughters of Man set adrift.”

As the psalm finished, a deep blue glow sighed from the quartz in the boy’s hands. In turn, he opened his eyes slowly and gazed at length into the crystalline light. Once it faded away, the priest spoke.

“It is done. May Yoná’s blessing find you, my son.”

The next person stepped up as the boy returned to the line. Despite having received odyl, he seemed visibly dejected, and rightfully so.

The measure of odyl bestowed is decided by the depth of the quartz-light’s blue colour. To put it simply, the paler the light, the more odyl one is bestowed, and it is said that a light of sky-blue hue was a most excellent result, indeed.

For the boy, his was of a deep blue shine, indicating that odyl of no appreciable amount was given to him. His drooping shoulders, then, seemed quite justified.

The Roun of Orisons proceeded further without trouble, granting odyl to each of us one after the other. The reactions were mixed—some radiated with elation for their results, others slumped in defeat.

“Next: Emilie Mernesse. Pray come forth.”

“Y-yes, Reverend! R-right away!” she stuttered, before turning to me. “Rolf! Off I go!”

“Calm your nerves first, lest your feet stutter as well,” I returned.

Taking her turn, Emilie made her way to the priest. Like the others before her, she took up the quartz crystal, knelt down, and held it close to her heart. Her fingers were clasped tightly about it, almost as if it embodied the whole of Yonaism itself. The priest’s palm then reached out towards her forehead. Emilie herself kept both eyes squeezed shut, betraying in them a slight quiver.

“O Yoná, Deiva Suprēma, Aegis of Man from the Empyrean on high. Here, we adjureth Thee, Most Divine, of Thy Grace, that we may stayeth the march of the Wicked, and answereth the entreaty of sons and daughters of Man set adrift.”

A glimmer began to enshroud the quartz, as if on cue. Emilie opened her eyes nervously, but instead, found it impossible to look—the quartz was as the sun itself, luminous and dazzling in its pure white refulgence.

The priest and both knights were taken aback, their faces stretched in shock. I glanced at the spectators situated further back, finding the same reaction in each and every one of them. Felicia herself was frozen in utter astonishment.

Upon the light’s eventual calm, the priest and knights regained their wits and broke into discussion.

“Reverend… That light. Was it not wholly pale just now…?” observed one of the knights. “If memory serves, such brilliance would mean the fullest measure of odyl has been givenー‘Aureola’, the halo-light, as it were?”

“It… It would seem so! Many years have I officiated this solemn ceremony, but this be the first mine eyes have beheld such a light!” exclaimed the priest. “Miss Emilie, yes? Oh! Bless your soul, child! Yoná embraces you with Her most profound love!”

“Emilie Mernesse! Do tell: you mean to join the Order, yes!? Surely!”

“Y-yes, sir. I-I do.”

All eyes in the church were trained upon Emilie.

“And you felt the odyl manifest within you, yes?” asked the other knight.

“I-I did, yes. From within my chest, I noticed something… something tinged with heat, come coursing in.”

“In all the history of the 5th Chivalric Order, none till today have produced the Aureola! Be proud, for you hold the greatest odyl of any recruit to this very moment! We welcome you, Emilie Mernesse! We welcome you with open arms!”

“Th-thank you, good sirs!”

After enduring a long while of exaltation from the knights, Emilie came back my way, her cheeks fully ablush.

“R-Rolf…!” she gasped excitedly.

“Congratulations, Emilie!”

“Th-thanks! Good luck to you too, Rolf!”

“Next: Rolf Buckmann,” called the priest. “To the fore, if you may.”