King Artyran IV appeared colder than Gardinal remembered. The image of a man smiling and waving with his new bride nearly seventeen years ago fading to the dust of time all at once as Gardinal took him in anew. With pointed chin tilted slightly up, his mismatched silver-gold eyes swept over them with a measuring look. The sharp cheekbones characteristic of the Fershya almost made him look gaunt and he wore a smile that was barely a twitch away from a sneer. Atop his head, the golden crown of Terminia sat, inlayed with moonstones that glistened as light touched it. Beneath that crown, long golden locks cascaded over his shoulders, laying atop his white furred velvet mantle embroidered with silver and gold scrollwork. A gold rope fastened the mantle, braided at the length and falling to pool over his knee. Towering over them as he was, Gardinal had to force himself to tear his eyes from the man’s disapproving stare.

To the left of the king sat his wife in a much smaller seat, if no less masterly crafted. She was a Sherya, of the Shenyalya tribe from her own pale golden hair falling straight to her waist, and her cool aquamarine eyes. She wore a frigid stare that could give the bishop a run for his money and seemed to set it on Her Radiance as if in an attempt to freeze her with it.

On the opposite side of the king stood a young man who seemed very much the king’s miniature. Prince Elenyos, Gardinal could easily guess, the heir apparent to the throne. At no older than twelve, the boy’s large eyes and round cheeks gave him a youthful, girlish look. Where his father was cold, calculating prowess, the boy was simply curious. Poor lad had never left the palace grounds his whole life. Gardinal was unsure how they ever expected the boy to rule. He might not, the thought bubbled up and Gardinal pushed it down quickly. Not now, not here. Gardinal didn’t need any other reason to be nervous.

One other royal stood by that throne; a man Gardinal respected greatly. Prince Therisant, high general of the Terminian army, and conqueror of the Shaded Lands. He was the right hand of his brother the king, and the man whose tactical brilliance had made the war as short as it was. Prince Therisant looked very much the royal with his mismatched eyes and long golden hair, though he struck a more muscular figure than his older brother, and the beginnings of a golden beard seemed to be forming on his jaw.

Gardinal finished his study of the royal family just as they approached the end of their walk, some ten paces yet away from the king himself. The men dropped to their knees, Gardinal first among them, and the women curtsied low keeping their gaze down.

They stayed like that for a short time, Gardinal swearing he could feel the king’s gaze burrowing into him. Then a strong, deep voice echoed through the room. “Rise, heroes.” King Artyran IV announced. They all did as they were told, each rising to look up to the king. Gardinal wasn’t sure a single breath was shared between them.

“My lords, ladies, and gentlemen. I have invited you all here today to recognize these heroes who gallantly risked their lives for the city which we love so dearly.” The king continued, leaning forward slightly in his seat. “These heroes, representing all echelons of our great society, stood against the forces of Chaos so that they would never touch our walls. If not for them, the dear citizens of our great city might have been at risk. Instead, the foul darkness was held at bay, contained and destroyed with not a single loss.”

Whispers spread among the crowd at that, not loud, nothing like what they would have heard in Southshore or even Silvermarket, but still whispers. Gardinal could only clench his jaw. Many died that night, brave men and woman who put their lives on the line for their neighbors. But they were of Southshore, truly nothing in the eyes of this man. Gardinal could hardly believe such a man had been chosen to rule by the Pantheon.

“As such, I see it as my duty as your king to reward such acts of bravery.” The king motioned and a young Fereni man rushed over and handed him a rolled-up sheet of parchment. Unrolling it, the king read from the paper. “For those named Kriss, Arabella and…” The King trailed off for a split second, his mouth tightening around the edges ever so slightly. “…Celeste. I hereby declare you all citizens of Terminia. Henceforth, you may enter the walls of Terminia freely as my subjects.” Gardinal had his own papers, drafted by a Seratoshin priest upon his birth. Anyone born within the walls could request them from the clergy with only a minor donation. For those born outside the walls though? Near impossible.

“Lord Vallerian.” The king continued, not taking a moment to notice Celeste and Arabella’s shocked smiles. “I bequeath upon you an estate in Northshore. It is uncommon to find a lord, no less a Count, who would chance his own life for the lowest of our land. Such acts of… compassion, are to be commended. The Father shine over your stewardships of these lands.”

Gardinal sighed internally, of course the greatest gift would be given to the already powerful and wealthy lord. That was the way of things, wasn’t it?

“Sister Valleresa, I have been made aware of your appointment as head of a new Ethinian order. As such, my treasury has been alerted and will fund the construction of your new structure in Southshore. May the Mother bless you in your endeavors.”

Valleresa gave the king a grateful curtsy, then stood as she was. That was a handsome gift, likely even greater than Vallerian’s. Constructions of that size, even in Southshore, would not be cheap.

“And for you, Master Gardinal. I hardly know a lord who has not done business of some sort with the Belnurs of Silvermarket and groaned about it afterward.” A small chuckled filled the court, and the king raised a hand to quiet it. “But my gift for you was not recommended by a lord, but a trusted advisor of many years.” The king stood from his chair, and his brother Prince Therisant quickly stepped up, offering the king his sword. Artyran IV pulled the blade from its sheath, a brilliantly polished ornamental thing, far too thin or pretty to be used in battle, glistening with gemstones covering near every inch of the hilt. “Gardinal Belur, step forward and kneel.”

Gardinal’s heart stopped. No Belnur, not even any Khazimi in all of Terminia’s history had ever been more than a wealthy citizen. Could this… could this truly be?

“Gardinal, Hero of Southshore, do you swear to live your life with Feren’s Valor, defending the people of this land?” The king asked him. Gardinal looked up at the king in awe, eyes wide.

“I… I swear.” Gardinal managed to stammer out. Whispers spread among the crowd like wildfire, but Gardinal could barely hear them over the beating of his heart.

“Do you swear in Oonya’s name to persevere against all obstacles?”

“I swear.”

“Do you swear, by the First Mother Ethinia to show mercy to the weak?”

“I swear.” Gardinal had to force back a smile, that was an oath that had passed his lips long ago.

“And by the Law of Seratos, our True Father, do you swear your fealty to me, your liege lord and king.”

“I do.” Gardinal finished, the last of his breath leaving his lips with those words. Words that had left so quickly, without even a thought to their meaning. Metal touched his left shoulder.

“Then by my rights bestowed upon me by the Pantheon above, I name you Sir Gardinal Belnur, knight of the realm.” The sword lifted and fell upon his other shoulder before being pulled away. “Rise Sir Gardinal.”

Gardinal stood. He turned to see the assembled lords and ladies, turned to see knights, like himself, in attendance.

“The Golden Hammer is sorry he couldn’t make it today.” The king whispered, quiet enough that only Gardinal could hear him over the applause of the crowd. “I would expect you to be called upon by His Grace soon. I must say it has been distressing having the Council of the Pantheon short a member these months.”

With that, the king turned and stepped back to his throne with little more ceremony. Sir Gardinal, he thought in shock, Origdal will never believe this.