Days passed in a craze of learning and training, while the waters of the bay stayed calm. No signs of the enemy below. If there even was such a thing. I reckoned by now, that the Gyohin had been an isolated force, a single living vessel with a crew determined to hunt for the crystals of the whales. I had things to keep myself busy, countless of things to be fair, but some were more interesting to me than others. I wanted to leave, that was just a fact by now. I wanted to hunt down these beasts that held the key to a mystery I had yet to uncover. It was all connected, I could feel it. The Wyld, the dragon, the Nightmares, and the guardians. More than anything else, it was the problem to solve, to make the Wyld a place for others to live and thrive in. Now, I knew the crystal whale to be one of those guardians of the elemental keys, and I had received the Skill with the same name, but I was still searching for the fitting lock. I came back to the same problem, over and over again. I could not leave Ravenport undefended. It would grow stronger over time. With the training and the fighting we did every day, with the reinforcements that could be expected from the expeditions of the Wounded Pride...but we needed more. And I knew more, now. Lily was a well of...conversational knowledge on all sorts of topics now. She spent most of her time with her kind, and never got tired of telling me of the secrets she unearthed by being friendly with the other wisps. We had decided not to trade a soul at the Afterlight for the information, but she learned countless snippets of information, nonetheless. And I - well I had my own way of gaining knowledge. With the Regicide freed from the prison of my mind, he no longer blocked the usage of my Skill [Unchained Ancestors]. Before, he had been right there, at the forefront of my mind, and the connection to him had been so easy, I simply had not recognized the silent whispers deeper down, behind his screaming and raging display of hatred. “Yes, child,“ the woman in regal clothing before me nodded gracefully, smiling a grandmotherly smile of affection down at me. “I was not Queen Consort for nothing. I had the Order of the Golden Rose inducted into the rolls of honor, sponsored by me, sworn to uphold the safety and well-being of womanhood in all the lands.“ We had met in the white space of whispers that took me when I activated [Unchained Ancestors]. It felt like a place between worlds. A place between what was and what is. I had arrived and listened to the whispers, but felt no strong connection arise. I had wished to talk to my father, the Bulwark, for example, but my searching thoughts had been denied. Was the way how my ancestors had perished important? Just as an afterthought I had asked the question out loud, addressing the space and not an individual. And the woman in front of me had answered, coming into existence like a faded memory reversed. “I bid you welcome, Queen Consort Anais, I have seen your likness a thousand times, and marveled at your beauty and conviction every time I passed your portrait in the hall.“ The stunning woman, buried under a mountain of frilled cloth truly had been a stunning woman, in her prime she had been the Rose of Ravenport, a famed beauty, and in her later years, she had taken to aging like she was on a warpath with life itself. Every year that had passed, she had grown more resolute, more energetic, and more driven. From the beautiful flower she had been in her youth, she adapted to power and she grew to be a thorny rose, prickly and beautiful in the ballrooms and deadly on the balconies and through whispers in dimly-lit hallways. She curtseyed, lifting her skirts, and looked at me, pleased with my words. She had no color. She was only an....image, an afterthought of the waves she had made in history. It was a stark contrast to the Regicide, who had bound himself, even after death, and was...as real as a dead man could be. My other ancestors had long passed on and were just a flimsy memory by now. “It is good to see that neither good manners nor the handsome features of my late husband have left the line of the Raven. But tell me of the gardens of Ravenrock another time, I am called upon by urgent matters and only have a brief respite to satisfy my longing to see my grandson.“ She said as she straightened up before me. The smile on her face felt real, but she had been a practiced socialite and would be able to conjure a brilliant smile whenever she wanted. I was not her grandson, not by five generations, as I recalled. But she seemed either to think differently, or she was too coy to imply her true age, even to me. “I would hear about the order you founded, Queen Consort, because the knowledge is lost and I am seeking to revive the custom.“ I bowed before her. She looked aghast, clutching her breast. “Lost? The notion of chivalry is lost? What a dire time you found yourself in, dearest, of course we must restore it! It is the pillar of the kingdom! Well, one of them, but the most...romantic one, and the one most fond to me. You have come to the right person! Listen carefully, because I feel that time is running out on me like your grandfather before the vows of binding, may the gods bless his nervous soul...“ We had a brief conversation, but one most inspiring. But time was indeed running away from us. Anais had felt like a woman I would have loved to know, and know I would have loved. We only had minutes, but she came into my life like a whirlwind, took charge, and spread confidence, where I was stumbling and asking meek questions. She was a ruler. She was someone to look up to and find yourself in good hands. I was nothing like her. But a plan was forged. It was somewhat an improvisation and, once again, a look behind the curtain of the mighty that made my stomach churn in shame. To found an order of knights you needed three things. A code. A vow. A ritual. That was it. Boiled down to the fundamentals…that was all it was. But it had to come from a place of power, of course, and it had to create meaning. Something the knights to be would swear their lives to. But the...arrogance of the act was stunning. All of history, the mighty had declared this or that to be worthy and men had sworn their lives to the cause, in the name of the king, or the queen consort, or the gods. Lives balanced against the fancies and ideas of the mighty. Of course, there were other examples - and I would make sure to create one of them. We met at the top of the Needle, the place in Ravenport with the most spectacular view, overseeing the bay and the Wreckage and being overshadowed by the floating isles of the Broken Lands. Before me stood, with the best weapons and armor we had scavenged together, polished, and shined until the brushed fell apart, a ragtag group of 25 people. Seventeen men and 8 women. Fisher was there, the leader of the [Harpooneers], with two of his fellows, Gideon of course, nervously fingering the hilt of his sword. Even a couple of [Archers] had heard the call and came to the meeting. Grim was there with me, but he would not take part in it directly. He had another role to play. I had asked them all one simple question: Would you swear your life to defending the Raven, Ravenport, and the people? I had not been angry with those that said no, and it always had been with hesitation and a few questions. They all had picked up a weapon to defend themselves and those they loved. But not all of them would throw everything away for the cause. That I had 25 here standing before me meant mainly one thing. They had nothing to lose, nothing to hold back for, be it family or a trade. „For too long,“ I began, speaking loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the waterfalls below, “I have considered Ravenport, our home, as something I had to protect from all harm. I, myself, with a sword between the darkness and the citizen. But that is not true, is it? Am I alone?“ The nervous group of grown men and women found the right cue to get excited, shouting „No!“ and raising their fists with proud smiles. They had been fighting and training every day for weeks now, and their journey had started with a battle of life and death. “I can see it in your eyes! Each and every one of you is willing to take up arms for your fellows. Each and every one of you is ready to throw your body between your people and harm’s way. That is why you are here. Not because you are born warriors, or talented, or noble, or even competent. Nothing of that matters but your will and your heart.“ I shouted, pounding my fist to my breast. “Today we will turn history around. Yes, we are survivors in a harsh land. But from this day onwards, we will cherish the dangers of the Wyld. We will seek it out. We will make this place our home, and if we have to take it by force, we will do so. Today all of you will start walking a path.“ I began walking in front of them, looking into each of their eyes in turn. “A path only you can decide on, only you can shape. Because in the Wyld and in Ravenport, a land under the protection of the Raven and the Wanderer, people are free to make their own choices, their own destinies. So, I will not tell you what to do with your life. But I will tell you what you need to do to make that first step.“ A code. A vow. A ritual. “You will uphold the ideals of Ravenport, first and foremost among them the freedom you all fought for. You will serve your lord in valor and faith. You will protect the weak and the defenseless. You will be paragons of moral and virtue. You will fight for the betterment of all. You will fight and live by honor, without the expectations of pecuniary rewards. You will speak the truth, and always the truth, you will fight lies, deceit, and subterfuge with word and sword. You will respect the honor of women, you will never back down from the challenge of an equal and you will never turn your back on a foe. You will persevere in any enterprise you begin! The code. It was the easy way out. Ravenrock had known knights aplenty, and besides the addition of freedom, it was a copy of the chivalric code we had known back home. Never change a running system, as Queen Consort Anais had taught me. The moral code that came with the culture was even more important than it seemed. If you had a group of people dedicating their lives to the sword, with the best arms and armor you could find and pay, you wanted to be very, very sure they had the right morals and were bound by honor. A vow. “Speak after me! I accept the chivalric code of the Free Knights of the Wyld, and will live by its words and die by its words. I will protect the Raven, Ravenport, and the freemen and freewomen of the Wyld with my sword and body, and even my soul if the need arises. I will strive to make the Wyld a safer place, I will aspire to understand the Wyld as a home to live in and not an enemy to fight. I will fight slavery and oppression wherever I find it. I will master the weapon I chose to wield and draw it only in dire need. I dedicate my life to the Order of the Wyld. I swear on my life, my blood, and my soul. Freedom above all.“ I watched, my skin crawling in awe as I looked into their determined, gleaming eyes, as they solemnly and in earnest concentration whispered, shouted, or recited the words I had spoken before them. I had looked at them the wrong way, all along. I had thought them weak, in need of protection. But I was wrong. They had taken up arms and fought superior foes with nothing but a broken stick in their hands. They had much more courage than I, a trained and equipped Twice-Born who had led the storm. They had every reason to believe they would die that day, and yet they fought. They were the strongest people in Ravenport. They were survivors. Only the strong had made it. I did not need to lead them every step of the way, I needed to enable them to grow on their own. And lastly, the thing that would give the whole ordeal its almost tangible meaning. It mattered a lot. The ritual. “To be knighted you will have to face a test of will and of might. You will travel to the Isle of Fate, in pairs because in Ravenport no one dies alone, in the heart of the Broken Lands, where I slew Barak Bloodbraid. It was I who dealt the killing blow, but the fight we all fought was the same. It might just as well have been you wielding the blade. We all emerged that day new men and women, forged anew in the heat of the battle for our freedom. As knights, you need to remember the day the order was truly born. You will light your fires and kneel in silent contemplation, from the moment the sun goes down to the first ray of the morning. You will place your Dragonamber amulet before you when you start. You will hear the Song of the Wyld and endure its whispers and tricks for one long night. In the morning you will arise as sworn knights of the Wyld.“ I looked once more into the eyes of the freshly avowed knights to be, a very different group from those you would have seen in the empire, nobles, every last one of them. These here were tradesmen, workers, cooks, and bakers with shoddy armor and scavenged weapons. I would not have it any other way. “Go on your way! I expect your glorious return to the Needle. Ravenport needs you, don’t you die on me.“ As I watched the group organize themselves into pairs, clapping shoulders, shaking hands, Grim came to stand next to me, watching the scene with amused interest. “Curious.“ He said simply. “Spare me your distaste for knights and ceremony, Grim. You know this is different and you know it matters.“ “Maybe. Maybe not.“ “Shut up and make sure they are safe.“ “Will do!“ He nodded and sauntered up to the Broken Lands, where his [Hunters], those that had not taken the vow tonight, waited to shadow the fighters on their journey, to keep them from harm as best as they were able to.