"Fate is within the god's purview and destiny duplicitous, either a cheap utterance by the ignorant or an invaluable weapon in the arsenal of the defiant.", the King recited, and then he continued in a normal voice, "The import of your tidings remains to be seen and given your timing, I'm still left wondering what business have the heavens in my domain?".

With that utterance, the King held the Emissary's eye for a tense moment before taking a step back, retaking his place on the throne and disarming the situation. He gestured for the White garb who'd accompanied Calf and the garb floated to the foot of his throne, emoting to the King who nodded, occasionally interjecting with his gestures. After their exchange, the garb floated to the right, clearing the space in front of the King. The King beckoned the Emissary, who came forward, the Warden in tow.

"Explain", was all the King bellowed as he stared at the Emissary, what needed explaining, Calf didn't know but he was sure he was about to find out. The Emissary did not even attempt to dodge the question or counter with a request for a more specific question.

"All rules have exceptions King Ram, and I come bearing instructions for you to take this as one such instance. By the Old Laws, a prerecorded accounting would bring with it a question of authenticity but I assure you and bear witness on my life that an unadulterated crystal was provided for these deliberations."

"Is that all you understood from my question? Sigh, Then I shall endeavor to spell the rest out in a more obvious way", the King responded, "What motivated this exception? Was the one originally tasked with the monitoring off on another errand, divine perhaps, or would viewing those memories directly uncover any divine intentions?".

Silence followed, the only change a cold glint in the Emissary's eyes at the King's defiance, they'd twitched every time the King mentioned the word divine, which he'd emphasized with a slur, wielding it like a barb. There was a pregnant pause, which the King followed up on with obscure mutterings.

"Unquestionable, in all but the divine... Fate wields quite the bridle." To Calf it appeared these words had been aimed at the Emissary but from the way the Warden twitched, they'd found their mark somewhere soft on him.

"So be it, we shall not question this further, and seeing as your message has been conveyed, you may leave us to our deliberations."

The Emissary grunted in response to the unveiled dismissal, turned away from the King, and left with a clap and this time, unlike his arrival, he took an obvious passenger on his departure. With the ceremonial deviations removed from the reception, they were free to continue. The garbs approached the throne and Calf knew the moment of truth was fast approaching. He'd be lying to everyone and himself if he'd said the coming moment didn't scare him, but unlike when he'd first appeared, he had a better outlook on his future. Fate could decide one thing for him, but he'd trump that by taking destiny into his own hands, no matter what.

"I stand as a silent witness, a representative of the Royal Archivists and the scribe for this session", a mass of peppered salt delivered the first self-introduction.

"I stand as a silent witness and the Oracles' representative. Our chapter has been informed in advance, and acknowledged the delivery of the verdict by the Brotherhood of the Veil", a scholarly satyr followed. Calf knew the man's presence was ceremonial as the Brotherhood of the Veil had spoken for this session. Despite his position as heir, especially given his Assumptive status, it was practically unheard of for the Brotherhood, shortened The Veils; to participate in matters of inheritance. Be it the unknown reason for the Emissary's interference or a question of him being a half-being, he couldn't say for sure but he was leaning towards the former. The Veils, from the little he'd pieced together about them, voiced little to no opinion on most matters, be they war or governance. Their word was taken as law, however, for whenever they had offered guidance or judgment, history had been made on the fore of denying them or the back of abiding. This seemed quite close to omniscience, and for this reason, he suspected their participation was in response to divine machinations. After the satyr, the introductions had cascaded till all but Calf, the King, and the garbs had been introduced.

"I, King Ram, named the Boulder, bear witness to these events and give my leave to the Veils for their guidance", the King finished, gesturing for the garbs to take the floor.

An antlered centaur, an acolyte of the Veils from the lack of a hood; came forward bearing a bucket of wood. Another with their antlers piercing through their hood and bearing a single stripe around each sleeve followed in the acolyte's wake. Once the acolyte placed the bucket onto the floor, his hooded senior bore his left palm. The palm glowed red as the senior directed the air in front of him towards the bucket. A crackle sounded from the bucket and a flame came to life, engulfing the wood inside. A familiar garb, the one who'd fetched Calf glided forward. He nodded to the King and tilted his head down, reaching out to everyone's mind.

"To those willed to know, I am 'Unveiled'. I am charged with facilitating the Review, identifying the viewpoint, and authenticating the Stone."

Unveiled bent his head forward and clasped his hands within the sleeves as if in greeting. He straightened up and righted his stance after a brief pause. In his right hand, he now held an eye-catching rattle which he then pointed above the flame, conjuring a blue circle above it. With his free hand, he produced a clear imbuement stone, levitating it till it was suspended above the circle. He let it drop into place before pointing the rattle towards the shards of the broken imbuement stone. A sudden breeze could be felt, picking up speed as the implement rattled. The shards rode the breeze, congealing into a fragmented crystal in front of the rattle. He directed the crystal into the flames and multi-colored streams of smoke wafted from the flames. The smoke spread and thickened into a colored sheet tethered to the flames below by a thin thread of smoke and flowing into the clear imbuement stone above it. With the sound of flowing water, the murky colors resolved into a still painting, which started flashing at the shake of the rattle. Sound accompanied the imagery and before he knew it, Calf, along with everyone staring at the screen had relived his Rites from someone else's perspective. As if on purpose, the last moment of his rites had been viewed from an inconvenient angle, hiding the detail on the arrow that had pinned him to the tree. Not only that but for some reason, the view had been so focused it ignored all other individuals except for Calf and Longhorn in the last moments.

"The first and third requirements have been fulfilled. The source is untenable given the fractured nature of the stone but the authenticity has been guaranteed."

With that, Unveiled nodded to the others, clasped his hands, and bowed to the King before gliding back to the rest of the Veils. A new figure made his way across the floor to the spot Unveiled had just left. The figure bore a walking stick, which he leaned into, the stick held in position as it glided with him.

"To those willed to know, I am 'Obscure' the Culmination. The past we've seen and the present is within my purview. Who's to say what lies ahead, for the clouded rapids defy discernment." He began. He looked up to the King and uttered, "For the judgment, an extension", then turned to face the Oracles' representative and continued, "For the justification, a reaction". His figure shimmered and his likeness towered over Calf. The mirror image stamped the staff on his left, producing a thin green film around them he'd come to recognize as a privacy bubble. In a friendly voice, the figure finished, "For your discernment, a deduction". The stick in the likeness's left hand grew to two times its height before he stamped it rhythmically on the ground. He felt a tugging from the stick and a riddle came to mind as soon as the link to the stick was established.

'By the crossroads the one-legged stands, to pick a path and decide where it ends. A hop this way and he lands in place, a hop that way and he lands in place, a step any way lets the journey commence! Watch where they land, lest your defiance be suborned'

Obscure, unlike the previous Veil, had communicated orally. From that, he supposed the mental message conveyed through the stick had only been directed at him, 'for his discernment' the figure had said. The likeness vanished and Calf was brought back from contemplation as his attention was drawn back to the original.

"Our judgment has been passed, whatever the candidate presents to the council before the cock crows will determine his fitness for the station. Should it be deserving of scrutiny and they motion for its seizure, he will be found deserving by the presentation of a newly born ally. Aside from the mentioned stipulations, the normal rules apply. The standard test of exception will be confined to the city but should the candidate so choose, he can exit the bounds to make his own way. Once the candidate has chosen a path, they will have to traverse it to the end."

With that, Obscure stamped his staff and glided towards the cloth draped on the eastern wall. The rest of the garbs bowed to the King before following Obscure. One by one they vanished into the cloth without a sound or ripple of the cloth. The Oracles' representative bowed to the King and stood to leave via the main entrance. The archivist was the last to vacate, leaving the King and Calf to their discussions. Minutes passed before Calf broke the silence.

"My King-"

"Always the stiff one, aren't you? Be at ease, this is just a conversation between a father and his son", the King amended his address, urging him to relax.

"A decade had long ago become but a second to me, but you've made the last seven years stretch to a lifetime, Calf. You've grown so fast and done so well despite the odds always being skewed to your disadvantage. I am proud of you, my Son!"

Calf couldn't hide the smile that crept up his face at those words, all he aimed to achieve among the Taurs was for his adoptive father's glory. Though their relationship had been forced onto him eight years ago, it had fast changed from one-sided accommodation to mutual recognition. The attempts of a nine-year-old Calf to find a shred of normalcy within Taur society had naturally latched onto the satyr's image, a hairy man in thick fur pants and hoofed shoes. The man seemed to him a shepherd of sorts, for all the hoofed ones heeded his guidance. Calf would have generous meals at the man's table, though the man only ate grain, nut, and fruit. He had been surprised this horned, kindly shepherd seemed to rule over the society of brutes, and not the Red furred bull he'd seen when their village had- Fury would fill him whenever he thought of their village, and how it had been razed by the hoofed ones.

The 'shepherd' had shown up, putting an end to the massacre. Calf had resolved to face the golden axe like his parents, who'd rushed headlong into a futile battle in an attempt to buy him enough time to escape. Their efforts had been for naught, however, as the hoofed ones made short work of their resistance, snuffing them out as soon as they engaged. In despair, Calf had rushed the Red-furred, only to be snatched into the air before reaching him. Held up helplessly by his arms, he turned his head to direct his ire at the unknown assailant only to be met with the strangest eyes he'd ever seen. They bore into him and he felt comfortable, so comfortable his eyes couldn't help droop. The fight left him and his arms fell useless to his sides as he fell into a deep sleep. He'd awoken in an unfamiliar bed, in the unfamiliar lands he now called home, and the King had helped him acclimate to the new environment. He'd gotten him involved with the archivists from an early age, wishing to both educate him, and to keep him away from physical conflict with the much larger Taurs. At an appropriate age, he'd been introduced to the physical side of conflict as well, though here he couldn't find many willing to mentor him. The Warden had assisted with the tracking and introductory archery whilst the King personally tutored him in the ways of the club and shot stick. Calf had found his place in crafts, initially as an errant boy till the Head of Crafts had deemed him worthy of his tutelage. As his years increased in Taurreland, Calf grew to understand more of the Taur world and the King's policies and couldn't help but admire the man. Now, he was being asked to to prove himself, again, and this time he would live it all in the attempt.