Nearly twenty minutes after Marlise had forced Milius to drink the beakerful of Healing Solution and examined him so closely that he was left feeling deeply uncomfortable, she pronounced him in perfect health and allowed him to join the other Knights outside in the Reception Area.

“If you would like to stay until Minerva wakes,” she was saying, as they pushed through the door behind the receptionist’s desk, “you are more than welcome to do so.”

But Milius, who was determined not to give her another chance to examine him for any ill conditions once more (for she surely would, regardless of what she had said a few minutes ago), and who was feeling mightily excited about the prospect of commencing formal training with Calder, declined, saying that he would instead return in a few days’ time when he was sure that Minerva would wake. And so, after bidding Marlise goodbye, he ventured out into the dazzling sunlight with the other Knights. The Elders were already waiting for them, sitting astride the dragons. Vrydius let out a gust of jade-coloured wind and swept the Knights atop their dragons, and then they were off.

The four magnificent steeds burst through the air, blurs of red, green, blue, and purple. Milius was clutching firmly at Lumeus’s rugged neck, his sword sheathed and the Orb of Triton tucked carefully under his other arm. Calder was perched behind him, his expression perfectly serene. Milius glanced over at Sirius, who was riding beside him, and Sirius gave him a weak grimace in return. Milius grinned; he knew exactly what was bothering his cousin.

Sirius always enjoyed his flights with Verdona, and usually spent them doing extravagant stunts and screaming with relish. But now Demus and the other Elders were present, and Milius knew that he believed that none of them would view yelling at the top of his lungs while hanging one-handed off the dragon's tail as very dignified.

Finally the Dragoon Cave swam into view, the statues of the first generation Dragonknights gleaming in the sunlight. The four dragons landed just outside the mouth of the Cave and bowed to the statues as their riders dismounted. When they were finished, they waved them off and the dragons took to the air again.

“So,” Shakil said eagerly as they strode into the cave, their footsteps echoing loudly on the marble floor, “what exactly will this training involve?”

“First and foremost, there is something we must show you,” Basil said.

The Knights exchanged curious looks, but the Elders did not elaborate. Instead the four of them took the lead, veering into the same passageway that Calder had once taken Milius aside into. Milius wondered whether they would be entering that large circular room with the bronze walls and gleaming white floor, but his question was answered as the old men continued past the door without a second glance.

The Elders came to a stop at the end of the corridor, facing a doorless stretch of wall with a large square carved into it. There was silence for a few moments, then Aaron spoke.

“Ariana,” he said sharply.

“Y — yes, Elder!” she stuttered.

“Forward.”

Ariana dashed forward, her long hair swinging wildly around her plump face.

“Your sword,” Aaron continued curtly. Though she still looked confused, she unsheathed Stormpyre at once. “The next step will involve your blood.”

“What?” Ariana said, sounding alarmed.

“This door seals itself after each Knighting Ceremony, and can only be reopened using the blood of the new generation. We don't need everything in your veins, girl,” he added impatiently, when Ariana did not move. “Just a trickle will be enough.”

Ariana hesitated once more. Milius couldn't help but feel a slight stab of bitterness — if it had required anyone else's blood….

But Ariana seemed to be steeling her nerves. Her armour disappeared as she took several deep breaths, and she quickly ran the blade across her open palm. Milius was impressed against his will: not a sound escaped Ariana’s lips as the metal flew across her skin, nor did any grimace of pain flicker across her face. Aaron pointed at the top left corner of the square, where she rubbed her palm against the wall, smearing the stone with her blood. As she stepped away, she ripped off piece of her dress and began to wrap her bleeding palm, finally betraying a look of revulsion as she gazed down at her wound.

“Sirius,” Demus said.

Sirius’s reluctance, however, was much more pronounced. “I — I don't think —” he spluttered, taking a step back.

“Being injured is a major part of being a Dragonknight, dear boy,” Demus said calmly. “You will certainly receive worse than this in your career. I suggest you get used to it.”

Sirius sighed in exasperation, and Milius watched as he raised his own sword. The memory of what Calder had told him came rushing back, of how wounds Vulcatrix inflicted didn't heal. He was about to shout out a warning, but Sirius had already slashed himself, with an air of wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible. Demus pointed at the top right corner of the box, and Sirius cast him a dirty look as he swept past him and stroked his palm against the wall.

“Shakil,” Basil said, and he pointed at the bottom left. Shakil squared his broad shoulders and took a deep breath, then pressed the point of his blade into his palm as the armour vanished from him too. Blood welled up at once. Shakil dashed to the square and wiped his blood at the allotted spot.

Now it was Milius’s turn. He felt slightly apprehensive about this whole thing, but Calder did not instruct Milius to wound himself. On the contrary, he held out his own wizened arm without looking at him. Milius strangely understood; he set the Orb down and held the sword out, and at the same moment, he braced himself for an electric shock … but none came. Calder had pulled the sword away with no visible effect.

Milius extended his own shaking arm, wanting it to be quick — but then, with a massive jolt of surprise, he opened his eyes, wondering why nothing had happened yet, and saw that his palm was bleeding. A fine, unbelievably straight line had appeared on his open palm, and beads of blood were trickling up.

“Wha —”

“The bottom right, Milius,” Calder said calmly. Stunned, Milius staggered forward and rubbed his hand against the portion of the square he was directed to.

It happened at once: the blood began to pool from all four corners of the square, moving quickly and smoothly into the center, taking the same octagonal shape of the jewels embedded in the hilts of their swords, though it was a much deeper red than Sirius’s ruby. The blood sigil flared with a brilliant white light, forcing them to look away. When it had faded, they looked back and saw a large bronze door ahead of them, gleaming innocently as though it had always been there.

Calder returned Palpatunde, stepped forward, and turned the handle. The door opened onto an elaborately carved passageway, made of a dimly-glowing orange stone. The Elders swept off again, moving purposefully down the hallway. As they walked, the Knights looked around in awe.

Magnificent pillars and archways rose around them, gilded with emeralds, sapphires, rubies, and amethysts, twinkling like stars. They passed statues of people who could only have been previous Knights, fountains in the shapes of dragons spouting water from their snouts, and interesting scenes of Knights facing all sorts of dreadful beasts carved into the walls. Milius wondered whether some of those battles had actually happened.

They strode on for a few more minutes, turning every now and then onto a lower, but somehow grander passageway, until finally they came to a stop in front of another bronze door. This one however, bore a symbol on the front: a large, ornate ‘A’. This time Basil was the one to open the door, but the effect on the Knights was the same. It was a vast, high-ceilinged room, lined with highly polished mahogany shelves, all of which were overflowing with a collection of handsome magical instruments of all shapes and sizes.

“What is this place?” Ariana whispered, looking around in amazement as they stepped inside.

“The Armoury,” Demus said. “Knights across the ages have stored objects that they collected in their own days of Knighthood here, whether because they could no longer carry them, or because they wanted to leave them to the future generations.”

“Each Knight of the new generation is allowed to take any two objects from this room for their own journeys,” Calder said. “Whatever else you wish to carry, you must earn on your way.”

“Choose wisely,” Aaron said. “There are no exchanges once you have selected. “

“You may look around as you wish, but we will need you to meet us in the Courtyard in three hours time,” Basil said.

“The what?” Ariana, Milius, Shakil, and Sirius said in unison.

“Milius knows where, he will take you,” Calder said, and without another word, the Elders swept from the room.