It was a week after the Labyrinth that those who partook stood upon the cobblestone circle that was the center point for the knight village. Ivo had dodged a week of rumors and whispers among the villagers and the fighters while moving into the small home gifted to him and Adrianne by her father. It was a good week. He lamented leaving their sanctuary and clung to the memories that lingered of their new home when the smell of lemon and basil tea wafted off his tunic and from her hair beside him.
Her hair was voluminous in dark waves that cascaded over her dark tunic that all those presenting themselves after the labyrinth wore. Adrianne’s sharp eyes looked over to Ivo and mouthed with a smile stop staring. He whispered no, and she bumped him with her hip. Ivo entertained the thought of taking her hand and going back home, but they had both decided to honor their families and present themselves for the branding.
While flirting continued between the newly bonded, Ivo saw Darren standing next to Giulius across the town center. Darren’s posture was as unyielding as ever, displaying indifference to the knight next to him whose shoulders were angled away. Despite his and Adrianne’s attempts to dodge the rumors of the labyrinth, Ivo had heard about the battle between the two Titans. Darren defeated Giulius and chose glory over offering a bond. Adrianne speculated that Giulius let Darren get the upper hand in hopes of a bond if he had the victory to carry him. A sacrifice to let Darren rise to the top while Giulius could be at his side. A costly sacrifice. Ivo wondered, watching the two trying to feign friendship, if things could be repaired, did Giulius fight enough to catch the eyes of a mentor lurking in the walls of the labyrinth or was his defeat seen as a surrender?
Darren waved through the crowd at his friend and weaved through the families wishing luck to those presenting themselves to be chosen by mentors.
“Did you hear!?” Darren was positively giddy as he came to Ivo’s side.
“I heard the rumors that you were awarded top marks for the labyrinth. Congratulations, comrade.” It was genuine, Ivo was happy his friend rose to the top. Any darkness in him was replaced by the memories of the past week and a future with Adrianne. Well, most darkness.
“Oh yes, thank you, that was to be expected.” Darren stood nearly a head taller than Ivo shoulders and waist wide, he was a fortress. He went through the trouble to hunch over for a private conversation with Ivo. “But that’s not the surprise, father told me the Dark Knight was seen in his armor this morning.”
Darren’s eyes glazed over with daydreaming of his most coveted mentor. Since they began training as young boys, it was the only future he’d speak of. The Dark Knight hadn’t bestowed his brand on a protege in the past four cycles of knights. If he had one before that who died fighting, Ivo didn’t know. If you died in battle, your name was erased, not to be spoken, so the memory of the fallen faded. Mŕtvi víťazstvo neprinášajú, the dead do not bring victory.
Conversations turned to murmurs, then gave way to silence. Ivo and Adrianne craned their necks to see above the crowd. Ten knights walked toward the crowd donned in full armor. Each helm is different, some are shaped like animal helms with sharp beaks or fangs, and others ornate horns. All save for one that was cloaked in a dark thread barren hood. Only the cutouts for the eyes and the face guard that was matte with scuffs. The Dark Knight was a stark contrast to his peers, who gleamed at his sides. Most taller than him, but there was no mistaking who commanded the most attention of the group.
“It’s him,” Darren whispered, his smile growing wide before it was seized by the fear of his dreams being a moment away.
“Maybe you could offer him a bond?” Ivo chuckled at his starstruck friend.
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“You think I’m his type?” Darren recovering from his anxiety, raised his eyebrows before quickly dropping his gaze as Giulius joined his comrades at Darren’s side.
Ivo watched his closest friend rub the back of his neck and wondered if any regret lingered from his choice.
Loved ones and friends said parting well wishes, holding their fists up with the thumb tucked in their grasps to grant luck to those presenting themselves to possible mentors today. Silence fell as The Glorious stood before the youth that they would train to replace them in battle one day. Some had crests on their chests that were passed down to them from their mentors, and a few, like the Dark Knight, rose to the top on their own. Most of the solo climbers created their own crest. He wore none.
Any grand introduction missed Ivo’s ears, unable to get passed his own thoughts. He eyed each of the mentors, some took more than one protege, but there was still not half as many of them as there were pledges. Fingers danced at the back of his hand; he turned his palm and took Adrianne’s hand. Her grip stayed firm through the first Knight, who knelt before Giulius. Ivo watched Darren’s posture straighten in the corner of his eye as his unclaimed lover removed his shirt, and The Glorious Knight with the hawk helm held up his sword, the pommel glowing white, before he pressed it to Giulius’s chest. Cheers from the crowd celebrated the branding.
When the Knights in horned helms approached Adrianne, Ivo gave her hand one last firm squeeze before letting go. He was unable to fight the grin, pride swelling in him at her honor. She chose the smaller of the two who presented themselves and hardly made a sound as the pommel seared into her skin. Ivo looked away, proud or not, he couldn’t bear to watch Adrianne hurt. To pledge yourself to a mentor was to accept the burden of the pain to train and continue in their honor. You represent each other. Her eyes were still misted over when she flashed a smile his way.
The Dark Knight finally took his step forward. Darren inhaled sharply at Ivo’s side as the hooded figure approached, each step echoing off the stones. Every spectator and pledge silently in anticipation of who would get the honor of seeing him take a knee. Darren raised his chin as the knight slowed in front of him and then passed him. Ivo’s heart sank for his friend who just lost his dream, but he admired how he held his poise until the Knight pushed back the cape that draped from his shoulders and took a knee in front of Ivo.
“I watched you, Novak.” His voice was raspy as it dragged across the stones like gravel to Ivo’s ears, “I find myself in the presence of a man who has something to fight for. That is someone I wish to teach.” His helm was dipped with the most profound honor. “What say you?”
Unlike Darren. Ivo had never dreamed of being trained under this Glorius Knight’s guidance. His parents oft whispered about the Knight in words Ivo could never make out, but he knew that it was not a mentor they would approve of. Curiosity swam through him. Why didn’t they push him to the most victorious Knight that Darren revered? Ivo looked over at Adrianne, she gave no emotion and simply dipped her chin, and her words from that morning echoed in his mind it is your choice alone Ivo. You have my support; choose for yourself.
He dared not look at Darren as his fingers pulled at his tunic, slowly peeling it over his head. Taking a knee, Ivo dipped his head to the Dark Knight.
“I pledge myself to you, Ser.” Ivo surprised himself with the strength of his voice.
“You have chosen well.” The Knight stood lifting his sword, but instead of a pommel, he drove the tip into the top of Ivo’s left pectoral muscle. Adrianne gasped and looked away.
Ivo knew it was shameful to cry out, but the smell of singed skin made it impossible to ignore the metal blade burning inside of him. When the Knight removed his sword, Ivo fell to his hands gasping to gain control through the pain.
“That is why I chose you.” The Knight laughed as he sheathed his sword and knelt down beside Ivo, “you aren’t afraid to show pain.” He removed his greaves and offered Ivo a hand, revealing the burn on his wrist where a bonded bracelet once welded. The crowd watched in silence as he pulled Ivo to his feet and helped him pull his tunic back on.
Ivo caught his parents’ eyes over the Knight’s shoulder. His father looked defeated, his mother had her eyes closed, a hand covering her mouth. The Knight clapped Ivo on his right shoulder, “I chose you, because you are willing to ask what is the price for glory.”