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Chapter 42
“Good luck to you all!”
“Make your families proud!”
“You are the future of Ardyn!”
It did not matter where they looked. Throngs of the cityfolk cheered in every direction. They overflowed the sidewalks, which themselves were already fairly wide, to the point in which they nearly spilled onto the street. They sat on top of balconies and ledges, dangling their feet in the jubilance. In some places, even the rooftops bore the lively applause of onlookers. They leaned over their ledges and waved in hopes of grabbing the attention of the procession.
No matter where they stood, sat, or hung, most everyone in the crowd had one thing in common. All bore held within their giving hands, a basket full of sword bells. It almost seemed impossible for the Windroad to be so splendid. For all the petals that the cityfolk had picked, there was not a single piece of greenery among the thoroughfare that was free of the sword bell.
As Ezabel’s near mesmerized gaze fell across the scene, she was beset by a peculiar sense of familiarity. Even as she turned her eyes from each side of the road, it took a moment until she finally realized it. There was only one place in the realm that she could ever recall being so abundant with the same vividness.
Alm. Home. - Ezabel’s chest rose with longing. It had been quite some time since she had seen it. Even if her feet trekked the brilliance of the Windroad, straight down the largest city in the realm, she could not help but imagine the sites of home. The scent of fresh pastries danced across her, not by the grace of Alm, but by the many kitchens of Gracewind that fumed into the sky.
The deep, rolling woods. The muddy paths of town. And, especially the fields on the outskirts. Ezabel could not quite believe herself, she had even missed the Caeroses. Those dastardly flowers ran a muck across her nose. Her allergies had never once gone away when the season came and she dreaded the thought of sneezing in the middle of the parade. The fall of sword bells began to tickle at her sinuses. Fortunately, her bearing returned to the task at hand when Hubert nearly tripped.
Having been placed beside Ezabel in the center, Hubert was lucky to have not garnered the attention of the crowd when his foot kicked against an upturned stone on the road. Still, Ezabel and Dani suddenly turned their heads his way.
“Watch your step, Hubert!”, Ezabel stated amidst the noise.
“Are you okay?”, Dani added.
“Y-yeah, sorry. I’m just a little distracted.”, Hubert recovered, but it was obvious that his focus was troubled with something. He gathered himself and made sure not to fall behind the procession, pressing his pace forward in order to catch up.
“Is everything okay? Are you not feeling well?”, Dani asked as she leaned over to look.
“I was wrong.”, Kieran interjected, just after he greeted the crowd with a nod and smile. “It seems we have someone weaker than the two of you in our midst.”. His comment, while about Hubert, was directed towards Ezabel and Dani. It began to seem as if he had impeccable timing when it came to killing a joyous mood.
“Are you talking about yourself?”, Ezabel wasted no time in responding.
“I understand your anger. I would be quite annoyed as well if I had been made a 4th Line candidate. Captain Leland must be so proud to have sponsored someone so talented.”, the sarcasm that dripped off of Kieran’s tongue was maddening. It nearly raised every hair on Ezabel’s head. Even Dani began to find his voice hard to digest.
“You’re one to talk, you’re a 3rd Line candidate like myself. Don’t act like you’re better!”, Dani walked forward just a bit harsher. Her feet wanted nothing more than to stomp on the ground.
“A regrettable coincidence. Although, I have no intention of staying a 3rd Line Attendant. As far as this class is concerned, my abilities far exceed the standard. - You’ll be left in my wake soon enough.”
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It had only been from the words of her books and campfire tales that Ezabel heard of noble affairs. They existed in the upper echelon of society; people who governed the realm as best they could. All told of their character as refined, educated, and sharp individuals. Then, there was the world of gossip and its affinity for noble scrutiny.
It was not uncommon to hear about the abuse of power that many aristocrats exhibited in and around court. Even towards their own people, which they were sworn to protect, they would selfishly take advantage of their position. Ezabel never quite understood that side of the aristocracy. How could it have been real? She had believed that the realm would rid itself of anyone who could be so vile. Yet, Kieran Addington walked beside her without having been touched.
It was a painful realization. There were people in the realm that were simply nasty. People in high places with the ability to make vast and absolute changes to life itself. There were many candidates of noble birth that walked alongside them in the procession. And, the folk of the capital showered love and praise around them without knowing their true character.
In the end, Kieran was a brick wall of stubborn opinion. He genuinely felt superior to all around and nothing was going to change his mind. It was clear to Ezabel and Dani, who resolved to turn their gaze forward in order to ignore him. There was no use in acknowledging anything he had to say. It would have been unproductive and entirely vexing. All they needed at the moment was to stay focused and present. Kieran and his mouth were not at all conducive to any of it.
“Ezabel has already received the praise of the Rose Brigade. That pin on her shoulder is proof that her potential is already much higher than your own.” It was unexpected, but Hubert opened his mouth and replied. His focus remained forward, the procession began to consolidate into a narrower portion of the Windroad.
Ezabel and Dani turned instantly, surprised and a little scared for him.
“Hubert Thornewell, was it?”, Kieran perked a brow. His chin was held high and his eyes looked down at Hubert. “You are supposedly a nobleman, but not once have I heard anything of your house. You also do not have a sponsor while these two do. - What an upsetting thought it must be, to have no future as anything other than a disappointment.”, Kieran even had the audacity to shake his head in disapproval.
It was more than enough to see Hubert shrink away. His first comment may have come with a slight sense of confidence, but Kieran had very quickly ripped all of it away. There was some degree of truth in his words, and that only served to make Hubert fidget with his hands even more. - Hubert was not a talented noble. He was hardly even a noble. The Thornewell name had been placed beside him out of sheer luck. If he had been born with any other name, expectations would not have been so high.
“How at all, did you even manage to pass the assessment? Surely, your house lacks the resources to provide you with a teacher, much less an Attendant Knight to oversee your development.”
This was the first Ezabel had heard of such a thing. She was surprised, despite the anger she felt due to Kieran’s continued insults. Yet, it made sense, regrettably. If the ruling houses of the realm were so far beyond the common folk in their resources, then having an Attendant Knight personally teach a prospective candidate would be an important use of them. It was a massive advantage that set them apart from the rest.
For a moment, Ezabel cringed at the idea that Kieran might just be their superior. He was the son of Gatrie Addington, someone who was both an Attendant Knight and a noble. There was every reason for Kieran to be an exceedingly talented candidate. The possibility of him being trained form an early age was dangerously high. Not to mention the fact that his own father could have been the one to personally develop his son’s abilities.
In the end, Kieran had rendered the majority of Group Eight silent. Not even the continued adoration of the townsfolk and their calls for attention could see that they broke out of it.
“Does your mouth ever close?”, Gilford, who had been on the left flank of the procession the entire time, scoffed and rolled his eyes. While he was not the only omon present, he was certainly taller than most of the candidates that had been placed around him. Group Eight was obviously no different, so he looked down upon their exchange with a look of pity.
“Only when the sheep know their place.”, Kieran replied without so much as looking Gilford’s way.
“Sheep?”, Gilford huffed. “Of course. - It’s only scum like you who think they’re above everyone else. I can’t wait to bury my fist in your face. I’ll make sure to sow your mouth shut then.”
Ezabel clenched her teeth and fists. This was not a moment to be buried in self doubt and hate. There was no time to bicker and certainly no space for arrogance. This was her dream. This was where she longed to be ever since her childhood. And, her own group was beginning to ruin her ability to enjoy it.
“Will you two just shut up?”, Ezabel shouted. Frustration was clear and heavy on her face. She was short of breath as she glared forward; the streetlights glistened in her eyes. She had enough. “Talk all you want, it won’t mean a thing in the end. Why don’t you two save it for when the trials actually start? As I recall, neither of you have yet to prove yourselves stronger than any of us. - Settle down and be quiet.”
The sigil of the Rose Brigade shone true in that moment. Its presence was as firm as her voice was, never once faltering under the ruckus. - To everyone in Group Eight, Ezabel Grover was a force to be reckoned with, whether they admitted it or not. She was the sister of Xavier Grover, Captain of the Rose Brigade and she was the candidate chosen by Captain Leland Hart to sponsor. As rumor would have it, she was also the candidate responsible for putting a stop to whatever incident occurred in the town of Angoulet. At face value, she was already the most storied individual of the festival.
Ezabel herself may have been oblivious to the gravity that surrounded her presence in the capital, but her Group most certainly was not. As such, it was with the utmost reluctance that they all began to quiet. Gilford folded his arms and looked away in disgust whilst Kieran simply turned back to the crowd to ignore her. The parade began to feel longer than anticipated and the awkwardness between them all was unbearable. To think that this was the retinue of people that she was going to be stuck with for the entire duration of the trials. She had her work cut out for her, and it was not looking to be a straight forward job.
In time, the procession crossed a great many neighborhoods that lined the flanks of the Windroad. There was little that could supersede the atmosphere the Group Eight had created for itself. So, each of its members stayed busy in their own respective way as the visage of the amphitheater crested over the far end of the road. It may have been rude, but Ezabel took it upon herself to maintain her own mood; she gave heed to no one else. She knew that the ultimate goal was to become an Attendant Knight alongside her brothers. But, she could not help but feel a lingering sense of guilt whilst doing so. Was it wrong for her to be so confrontational? Group Eight remained at odds, thanks to her.
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