Allara, -52 LD (52 years before Ludo's Death)

Darius Brand's mane of red hair swayed as he shook his head in defiance, refusing to accept this particular decree.

He paced along the breathtaking expanse of the Speaker’s Platform. Heavy boots trod over swirls of precious gemstones and murals depicting mythological feats. However, as Brand approached the center of the room, even he knew better than to step upon the divine mosaic known as The Unblinking Eye.

Over a hundred first- and second-ring paladins peered down from tiered seats, like spectators at a fighting pit. Women with painted faces buffeted the air before them with intricate fans. A pair of gentlemen had paused their game of latrones to better appreciate the spectacle below. Several onlookers even made spectacles of themselves, pointing and jeering at the Speaker. As Brand's aggravated pacing dragged on, more and more of the audience joined in condemning the man's theatrics.

Great care was taken to maintain the Prime Temple's pristine condition, and so it gleamed and sparkled in all its empty glory. But as impressive as this congregation was, they only filled one out of every ten seats.

The very fact that Brand was permitted to step foot on the Speaker's Platform further attested to the Order's fall from grace.

Darius Brand was, beyond any shadow of a doubt, the worst public orator to ever stand upon that hallowed ground. Certainly he would not have even been allowed a seat in the Assembly during the Age of Enlightenment. Back then, heroes of legend used to cram inside shoulder-to-shoulder, their hearts set ablaze as Sartori or Demosthes entreated the heavens themselves to pay witness.

"Look---" roared Brand, one colossal boot plodding in front of the other. "This is just----honestly. Really, why is this even---"

A single look at the man was enough to convince one of the thickness of his blood. Rumor had it that his grandmother was a giantess from the Heartfire Mountains. By the age of twelve, he no longer fit in any of the standard raiment issued to paladins of the Order. Around that time he wrestled an everburn bear to the death and had ever since worn its vibrant pelt as a cloak. All of the tears, burns, and holes it had accumulated over the decades only amplified his fearsome presence.

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"Just unconscionable, truly," he declared, seizing the air before him as if once more grappling with that ferocious beast. "Beyond any reason...how can you...?"

As a medium-affinity wind mage, the Matriarch was able to project her domineering voice throughout the Assembly. "That is quite enough, Ser Brand. All present have noted your objections. In better times, we would never resort to such methods. But these may very well be the worst times in Allaran history. What use have we for tradition when no living soul remains to follow it?"

Darius Brand pivoted to face her with breathtaking speed. Seated in the center of the first row, surrounded by her retinue, the elderly crone bore his withering glare with unflinching dignity. Her white robes and gauzy veils lent her an ethereal grace, far beyond the reach of the man's raw physicality.

"To use the Heavenblade Fragment is one thing," said Brand. "But this is just...really, what can I even say?" He began clapping between each word. "What. Is. There. To. Say?"

The Matriarch's voice remained as steadfast as ever. "You have been chosen for a great honor, Darius. Even at the height of the Order's glory, few could match your talent with fire. Combined with your medium destruction affinity, you are death incarnate."

Brand glanced up at the high ceiling as if attempting to hide the blush stealing across his cheeks. "Yes, well, really no need---all that's just---that's not the problem, Matriarch. You say all of that, right? So let me do it. We're just going to let this bas----the Edkeis boy, we're just going to let him use the Fragment? Him?"

The giant pointed toward a particularly empty section of the audience.

As the only third-ring paladin in attendance, nineteen-year-old Ludo Edkeis was like a toddler who had accidentally waddled into a sacred ritual. No one sat within twenty paces of him, save for his willowy young bride. Lani gripped his upper arm and refused to meet the legion of damning stares now focused their way.

One of Ludo's hands stroked his wife's hair affectionately. The other scratched his nose as he sneered back at the crowd.

"Yes," said the Matriarch. "Him. The Edkeis bloodline is as strong in metal as you are in flame, Darius. You are well aware you cannot harness the Heavenblade. May I remind you, the Goetia's forces will soon make it through Cloud Pass. Once they do, the Prime Temple will crumble."

Brand paced about, his great leonine head bouncing side-to-side in disbelief.

The Matriarch continued, "You will escort the Edkeis boy to Castle-On-The-Peak. Assist him in channeling the power of the Fragment, to unleash a great strike that shall cleave the earth itself in twain. This is our only hope at delaying their advance."

"Really---it's just----" whined Brand. "How to even put it---"

To no one's surprise, Ludo's patience finally imploded. "Oh, come off it already, you sniveling buffoon. What's the worst that can happen?"