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Chapter 34
There was no denying that the Citadel’s Grand Hall was magnificently bright during the day. The sun pierced its windows and bounced across its cavernous extent, which made for a striking scene of grandeur. But, as far as Ezabel was concerned, it was the Grand Hall’s evening dress that was far more impressive. From beneath its northern threshold, where Ezabel stood in complete awe, she could already see a resplendent array of golden light that rose up every ivory pillar. Above, the lofty ceiling arched in many places, dividing many segments of beautifully golden patterns. Every inch of their decoration wielded a distinct flow artistry; one could spend an entire day following their lines without discerning its entirety.
What had made them so prevalent however, was not the ceiling itself, but their reflection on the floor below. There was an unmatched, flawless sheen that stretched the entirety of the hall. Not a single scratch could be seen, which was difficult to believe considering its size. Ezabel swallowed an empty breath. It was slow to go down and pained her chest. It almost seemed a crime to step on the Grand Hall’s unblemished floors. Luckily, a large gathering of her peers had already filled it up, which made her feel much less terrible.
Their sound was a low but potent hum; conversations of all sorts that took place as they waited for the evening to begin. This was the staging area, officially. Ezabel had assumed that the other candidates had been instructed the same as she: To meet in the Grand Hall prior to the ceremony. - They were a flock of white, all dressed in the uniform the Order had given them. It was then that she realized that her garb was far from unique, even if it was highly coveted. There was no meaning behind it without the cloak. For now, she was one of many. And, that did not bode well for self confidence.
From each direction, more candidates began to arrive. Even where Ezabel stood, they walked past either side of her to get in. She had only realized when a few of them passed looks of strange curiosity and slight annoyance. Afterall, her position practically blocked a large portion of the hallway.
There was an unusual coldness to the situation. Her uniform was thin and flexible; it did its best to hug her with warmth. Yet, a snaking chill weaved against the fabric, slipping through her collar and sleeves. It was enough for goosebumps to rise across her arms and back. What a way to stand up straight.
Better get moving. It was the right call. There was no sense in idling purely out of wonder. - About ten feet through the threshold, a keeper of the Citadel stood in the path of those who entered. It was clear right away that he was directing those who had just arrived. His conversations were brief and his directions were clear. Even at a distance, Ezaabel could follow him without the need to introduce herself. She only needed to listen to those in front of her.
By the courtesy of the keepers gestures, they were all directed to the front of the Grand Hall where the clerical box offices were reequipped to brief the candidates for the evening’s events. There, Ezabel would receive the necessary instructions to navigate the crowd. At least, that was her hope.
Luckily, reaching the front proved to be quite easy as a flow of candidates moved in the same direction. She followed with care and made an effort not to get lost amidst the shifting sea of bodies. And, it was fortunate that she avoided such a fate. Everyone was clad in white, which made for a difficult time in distinguishing anything.
Thankfully, there was nothing difficult about identifying the queues at the head of the hall. There were about ten of them and each led to a different clerk. Ezabel did not quite have the luxury of choosing which she joined as the flow of foot traffic carried her to one before she could even decide. She counted twenty people in front of her. Or twenty-five, it was tough to identify who belonged to which line. Everyone jittered, peeking in and out of the queue on occasion. Some had conversations with those from other lines, which only served to muddy the boundaries between them.
Nevertheless, the front of the Grand Hall rose above it all. Each clerk manned a single office. Together, there were ten in total, arranged in a wide semi circle. At a glance, they were separate rooms that connected into the hall with an open window and countertop to separate them. Within, the brisk pace of many keepers moved with purpose, freely offering instructions and aid to all that came before them.
Ezabel always knew that the Citadel was a busy place, but this was something else entirely. Even though the sound of the crowd was not a blare, it was still abundant enough to make it hard to hear her own thoughts. She could only consider that which stood before her: the crowd itself.
She had assumed that every candidate partook in the training yard earlier in the day. It was a large number of people, of course, but nowhere near the size of the current assembly. Her eyes immediately shot to their faces and whatever distinctions she could make of their uniforms. She needed to rid the scene of all the sameness. It made for a much more interesting place to be. Especially since she was stuck in line with nothing to do other than stare.
Soon came a growing contrast in the space. In time, the candidates had been guided into specific areas, where they were organized into groups. They stood on the far end of the hall, opposite the clerical area. To Ezabel’s best guess, they were the groups in which the candidates would walk the Windroad. It only made sense as a parade needed structure, not a mob. Whether or not those assortments meant anything else beyond that was hard to say.
With that said, the implication of having to introduce herself to a new group of individuals suddenly dawned on Ezabel. It was a difficult thing to process. They were her competition. Was it necessary to make a good first impression with them? Or, should she be confrontational? They were going to be at odds, surely.
Ezabel chewed on her lower lip as her eyes went far into the hall, bouncing between the array of people there. Some seemed genuinely glad to socialize with one another while other groups remained totally quiet and indifferent. Even at this distance, she could experience second hand awkwardness.
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“Next!”
Ezabel perked up. Straight away, there was no longer anyone in front of her, only the clerk who sat on the opposite side of the nearby counter. She had walked the line out of pure instinct and gave it no heed until it was much too late. So, she paced forward in a hurried fashion.
“Hello!”, she shouted over the countertop and placed both hands firmly against the edge. A single lock of black hair fell loose against her cheek.
“May I have your name, please?”, the keeper asked without even having raised his head. To Ezabel’s best guess, he had gone through several dozen candidates by now. His words were as much a routine now as eating lunch. There was a lengthy scroll that was partially unfurled between his hands.
“E-Ezabel Grover!”
“Grover, Grover..”, the keeper swept the scroll up and down; he unwound it some to reveal more of its contents. - Ezabel herself could not decide an idle state for herself. The pause that ensued was a little too long for her to bear. Her head swung from the left to the right, eyeing the candidates who stood just the same by the neighboring clerks.
“So..”, she muttered aimlessly. “..are you excited for the festivities?”
“Please, be patient.”, the keeper replied without even having lifted his head. It felt moderately rude, though Ezabel had no intention of taking it personally. “I am doing my best to find your.. Ah, here we are. Ezabel Grover.”
When the keeper found her name, he proceeded to comb his desk for the necessary paperwork. It was immediately an incoherent show of clerical work in the eyes of Ezabel, who could only watch as random bits of writing went by her in a flash. A small stack of parchment eventually collected in front of the keeper, who then stood from his seat and stepped into a side room which she could not quite see.
She had been left, and even amidst the crowd of the Grand Hall, she felt embarrassed to stand there alone. Whether or not people even cared to look her way was something Ezabel was unable to answer. She only kept her head forward and refused to look at the assembly behind her. She could feel an onset of the jitters.
Then came a small series of emotions on either side of her. To the right, another candidate looked to be on the verge of tears. And, it was certainly not from happiness. He held a piece of parchment tight in his fist, practically tearing a hole in it with his grip. Hopeless anger. Futile disappointment. Ezabel could see it all clear on his face. All save for the reason he so quickly stepped away with a drooping head.
To her left, another candidate sprang up with just as much a reaction. Only, he was far more satisfied and proud. He held a similar parchment in his hand, albeit in a less abrasive way. He was pleased with a wide smile and a deep breath.
Apart from the exchange of thanks and farewells that those candidates had with their respective clerks, it was difficult for her to discern the topic of their animated conversations. It all only served to make her anticipate the same for her own--.
“Alright, Miss Grover.” Ezabel turned back to the counter when the clerk returned. No longer was there a thick stack of paper in his hands. Instead, he placed a single sheet between them. He pushed it gently across the countertop and flipped it in respect to Ezabel’s perspective. “This will only take a moment of your time, but do pay attention.”
She could hear his voice loud and clear. It was right in front of her and had no trouble discerning itself from the noise of the hall. Even so, Ezabel’s gaze fell strictly on the piece of paper laid before her.
“To begin..”, the clerk cleared his throat. “All candidates have been assigned a tentative classification. This classification, or rank, has been given to you based on your performance on the assessment. - Now, according to my paperwork, you are a sponsored candidate. Since that has allowed you to skip the assessment, you have been given a rank based on the judgment of the captain that has sponsored you instead.”
“Then, Leland decided my rank?”, Ezabel muttered. Her eyes were still stuck to the paper; they danced through every line in hopes of making sense of something. But, her mind had already been distracted. How much did Leland know about her? Was it enough for him to accurately gauge her ability?
Ezabel was in a peculiar situation. She had indeed participated in an assessment, one which she displayed all that she could before the eyes of Leonora. Yet, she had ‘officially’ failed. Which meant that the only realistic chance for her being here was to accept Leland’s sponsorship. And, that itself had snowballed into the potential for the flawed evaluation of her ability.
Then again, why did she even care so much about it all? The notion of a classification was already confusing. She had never heard of such a thing in any of the books she read. Attendants were Attendants, were they not? What more was there to the Order and its members?
“Shall I explain?”, the clerk asked after having noticed Ezabel’s silent confusion.
She nodded, reluctantly.
“Very well. - An Attendant’s rank directly correlates to their ability to control the Echo. Naturally, an Attendant who can manipulate its energy without much difficulty will be assigned a higher classification than one who can not.”
It was simple and straightforward, but the notion of a hierarchy did not sit well with Ezabel. There was pressure again, suddenly. The feeling of competition had risen around her. The Citadel had a tangible way to compare its candidates and it frightened her.
“A rank that a candidate receives is purely tentative and will change throughout the course of the trials. Only when all is finished will an official, final rank be given to those that are chosen to become Attendants.”
“How many ranks are there?”
“Four standard ranks are used to maintain the Order’s members. They are the: 4th, 3rd, 2nd, and 1st Line Attendants. - Beyond that is the rank of Cardinal, of which there are four members. Though, that is something you have no need to concern yourself over.”, the clerk watched as Ezabel traced her finger atop the paper.
“What rank is Leonora?”, Ezabel questioned suddenly. For some odd reason, curiosity rose to the tip of her tongue and came out without warning. There was no other explanation other than the fact that Leonora was quite possibly the only person in the capital that she felt entirely comfortable with.
“If you are referring to Leonora Errapel of the Rose Brigade, she is a 2nd Line Attendant.”
Ezabel perked a brow, fully impressed. Leonora was indeed a high quality individual both in and out of work. A sense of relief came and washed away her concern for Xavier. While her brother was not exactly the easiest person to harm, it was still easier to breathe knowing that there was a 2nd Line Attendant at his side.
“Wait..”, what little of a smile Ezabel’s lips curled, disappeared soon after. “..then what rank was I given?”, like boulders, her eyes collapsed back onto the sheet of paper. They desperately searched every line, only to be interrupted when the clerk placed a finger at the top of the sheet.
“Your rank is stated right here.”
When the clerk lifted his finger, Ezabel’s gut grew heavy. There in black ink was written her designation: ‘Ezabel Grover - 4th Line’.
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