“Well damn,” Aurelian said with a low whistle after reviewing his new companion’s equipment. “You two upgraded pretty solidly, didn’t you?”

“We did.” Zylara confirmed with a beatific smile. “Though the problem of the blessing remains. We’ve discovered we cannot actually use the weapons, and they won’t accept a bond with us either. They appear to be magically sealed to the Authority of the rightful ruler of Elysea: The Reclaimer.”

“To you.” Karsys said with a wry smile. “Without your permission, we can’t use anything Elysean, apparently. Even the armour feels…” he shrugged a little as if in demonstration “...off, somehow, as if it’s resisting us.”

Aurelian roamed his eyes over the plate and noted, with a more detailed inspection, that it did indeed seem slightly askew on their bodies. Disproportionated, and seemingly dull in a way his own never had been. It looked, for lack of a better word, dormant. It was if something critical or essential was missing from it, or the core of the equipment was somehow inert.

“I’m not entirely sure how to give you my blessing,” Aurelian said with a frown. “I could try just giving you permission verbally, but I don’t know if—”

“We had a different idea.” Zylara said while looking at Karsys, who nodded back in encouragement. She turned to face Aurelian afterward, and stepped toward him. Her blue eyes, normally so cold, were alight with intensity—and an echo of something else he couldn’t quite identify. “You freed us from chains we didn’t know we had, and we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are both the Reclaimer and the Second Calamity, Aurelian. Would it be right to assume you have also now been properly informed what the true Mantle oath is?”

“Actually, no,” Aurelian said with a shake of his head. “The oath itself is apparently pretty arbitrary. The Mantle itself is an actual ability.”

Both Karsys and Zylara blinked in shock at his words.

“An ability?” Karsys asked in disbelief.

“Can you explain further?” Zylara pressed.

Aurelian nodded and reached out to idly stroke Bahamut’s head while he let himself think. He didn’t want to give too much away. It had seemingly been kept a secret even during the height of the Empire, and there had to be a reason.

“It’s sort of like a wide-reaching unification ability. The oath is just a sort of ancillary part of the actual ability, like a way for people to engage it. The Mantle itself is a means through which those enveloped by it can fight as one. It combines their awareness, instincts, and battle cognition into a sort of synergistic whole from how I understand it.”

“That makes sense.” Karsys said with a slow, and thoughtful ‘hmm’ after Aurelian finished. “We were always taught that the Mantle was a unifying force for Elysea, but we never realised it was a literal one. It was always assumed to be more of a symbolic thing.”

Ignorance enforced by the gods, most likely. Bahamut commented idly.

Aurelian didn’t echo his words, and the dragon seemed content to keep them private.

“If that is indeed the case,” Zylara said with a look from Karsys back to Aurelian, “then I want to be part of it. The Mantle was—is the heart of Elysea. It’s what our forebears lived by, fought for, and died for. It’s what I want to stand for, too.”

“And I,” Karsys agreed solemnly.

Aurelian looked between them and frowned, while Dragon’s Resolve keyed up to smooth the mild build of anxiety in his gut at the gravity of their words. “I haven’t even come up with an oath or anything yet, it isn’t—”

“Aurelian,” Zylara interrupted with a look of stunningly sincere faith, “you are the Reclaimer. More than that, we’ve both learned you are a very earnest and sincere man,” she drew a breath, as if to steady herself, and then continued on. “I… apologise for being rude,” she said with a look as if saying the words was a little difficult, “but frankly I think we’re beyond fretting about things like this.”

She stepped forward and placed a hand, hesitantly, on his chest while looking up into his eyes. Her own, he noticed with a suddenly dry mouth, were stunningly blue. “You can always tidy up or prettify the oath later, but I think you should just focus on what feels right and proper. You’re the rider of a Dragon King—” she nodded to Bahamut when she said it “—and the chosen heir of Lucius Tollarius himself. Where you lead, we’ll follow. I have faith that you already know where you want to go, and what sort of Nation you want to build.”

The elf is correct. Bahamut proclaimed matter-of-factly. I can feel your doubts, Aurelian, but you must push past them. You know what the oath must be. You have put thought into this already, and at length. A Dragon must trust their instincts.

I’m not a Dragon, Bahamut. Aurelian objected despite his resistance crumbling.

You know what Bael’tharax said. Bahamut responded with firm finality. You are as much a Dragon as you are a man, with our bond.

“I may not be as eloquent as Zylara,” Karsys said, and drew Aurelian’s eyes to him, “nor as prone to her, ah, charmingly mercurial mood changes,” he continued with a wry smile despite Zylara’s sharp look at his words. “But I have rarely seen her as excited as after we learned who you were, Aurelian. She was almost buzzing with energy.”

Zylara scoffed at his words, though Aurelian noticed her pale cheeks had coloured an attractive shade of crimson.

Karsys smiled at him encouragingly and continued, “I consider myself a relatively capable judge of character, and I find myself in agreement with Zylara. You are the right person for this role, and know better than anyone what the Mantle should be, and should stand for. It doesn’t need to be overly elaborate, Aurelian. We’ve…” he sighed. “We’ve had enough of that. It should just be honest, and say what you want it to say.”

Aurelian looked between his three companions, and grimaced while a heavy sense of duty settled within his soul. He could feel the weight of the Mantle even then, bearing down upon him like a leaden cloak around his shoulders. It was not an uncomfortable weight, but it was one he would never again be free of. He knew that. It was part of why he was so determined not to screw it up.

I can’t just sit here procrastinating on it either, though.

While it was true that it had only been hours since he’d been given the title, and perhaps it would have been better to wait and consider and give proper weight to the decision—time was against them. A host of corrupted blightmen, undead soldiers, and twisted blightbeast horrors was encroaching even then toward Sanctuary. They were already past due to leave, and every moment they hesitated was one they could ill afford.

He also couldn’t wade into the Desolation—which sounded like magical Chernobyl from what he’d been told—without his only two allies, other than Bahamut, crippled by a lack of properly functioning equipment. Maybe he could figure out how to give the blessing without the Mantle, but it would be an empty gesture. Even with the three of them, the Mantle would be an invaluable advantage.

Aurelian could be stubborn and stupid both, but not beyond reason.

Besides, he had to admit he did know what he wanted; even if the words weren’t as eloquent as some might expect.

“Alright,” he said finally after parsing through his thoughts in the intervening seconds. “I’ll have to figure out how to tie the oath to the Mantle, but you’re right. I do know what I want it to be, though it might not be as eloquent as what you’ve already had. I’m no orator. Not yet, at least.”

“I’d prefer any oath over the twisted one we’ve been swearing.” Zylara said with a lift of her chin, and a look of anger in her blue eyes. “Anything is better than that slavery.”

“Seconded.” Karsys agreed.

“Give me a minute to test my skill out, then,” Aurelian said while already stepping a little away, gently pushing down Zylara’s lingering hand, and spinning up Oathforger with a mental stroke of will. The skill burned to life in his mind, and he blinked when a System prompt entered his vision.

Synergy detected between Skill and Title.

Intent registered and parsed.

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Would you like to forge an oath for the Mantle?

Y / N

Aurelian grinned despite himself. Sometimes the System was incredibly no-nonsense and helpful. It wasn’t always the case, but when it was it made his life infinitely easier. He selected ‘Y’ without hesitation and a simple prompt replaced the first.

Specify Oath wording when ready.

He took a moment to think and focused on what he’d already decided: the oath would need to be one that exemplified protection of free will, guaranteed choice, and was pragmatic in its approach to threats. He’d considered the idea of birthing it through a form of democracy, and then firmly dismissed it. He could worry about creating the framework for a proper form of representative governance after he dethroned the gods. There was no merit in blurring the lines of efficiency with the corrupt, and selfish desires of individuals when he had a job to do.

It sounded disturbingly like Dictator or Tyrant logic, even to his own mind, but it also made sense; and that was the most important factor in his choice. He’d seen too many situations where people—real and fictional—had attempted some sort of noble and idealistic democratic formation, only to be stymied, and bled out of their ability to make progress by the greedy ambitions of one or two power hungry idiots, or traitors protected by ‘due process’.

Aurelian was fighting a war against beings that could subsume free will.

For the moment, the only decision-making that could be trusted, was his own.

He was aware of the precariousness of that situation, but there was nothing else for it. He could hardly guarantee freedom from Divine influence, even with Calamity’s Blade. Severing a tether did not mean ending Faith, and he’d already had the sick and troubling realisation that before long he’d be forced to execute people working against the betterment of the Realms.

Bloodless liberation was a fucking fairy tale.

Dragon’s Resolve made itself known in that moment, however, and with gratitude for the skill he refocused on his task: the Oath.

Not letting himself overthink it, he projected his will to the waiting prompt.

A moment later, the prompt melted to show his requested Oath.

> I am a citizen of Elysea, and this is the Mantle I bear:

>

> I will defend all peoples from enslavement, be it of mortal or divine origin.

>

> I will resist the gods in all things, and deny even the mildest of their overtures.

>

> I will protect the right to lawful self-determination for all who abide by the Mantle.

>

> I will stand against discrimination on the basis of species, sect, or sex.

>

> I will respect and protect the race of Dragons, as they in turn respect and protect me.

>

> I will uphold the values of justice, honour, courage, valour, fidelity, and charity.

>

> I will faithfully execute the tasks given to me in support of the true Elysean Empire.

>

> I will adhere to the will of the Reclaimer in all matters related to the war against the gods.

>

> I will live by this oath in every aspect of my life, within the best capability of my circumstances.

>

> I freely and with full control of my choice give my solemn vow to abide by the binding of this oath.

Would you like to bind this oath now? You may change this oath once per 30 days.

WARNING: Changing the Oath will require all those who swore it previously to agree to its terms anew. Anyone who does not do so will no longer be bound by the Oath!

Do you wish to continue?

Y / N

Aurelian considered his stipulated words carefully.

They were… simpler than the poeticism of Solarius’ cleverly worded trap, but also covered every base he could reasonably think of. The part about adhering to his will had been one he’d worried over, but in the end believed it necessary.

It was sufficiently narrow in that it would force obedience when it came to matters of the war, and yet would still allow room for defiance in other avenues—such as civil matters. It was a fine line, really, given one could argue that everything had to do with the war… but he wasn’t going to be too generous, either.

If he wasn’t strong enough to take charge, he ran the very real risk of losing right out of the gate. That was something he wouldn’t, and couldn’t, allow to happen. Bael’tharax and Tarixi had entrusted him with their hopes, and Aurelian wasn’t going to let them down, nor the Elyseans that had given their all to summon him to the Realms.

He owed them that much. It was a strange realisation to come to, given he’d ostensibly been murdered and kidnapped to the Prime Material by Selucia Tollarius’ summoning spell: but he felt it. Somewhere within him, that loyalty to the ideals of Elysea had been born, and nurtured under Tarixi and Bael’tharax—and now, he genuinely felt that he owed it to the martyred summoners to see that their sacrifice amounted to something.

More than that, he owed it to Tarix, to Bael’tharax, and to himself.

His mind went over the Oath, and he grinned slightly.

Lawful self-determination meant he could still enforce laws against murder and other heinous crimes, which he’d been careful to include. He didn’t want to give loopholes for psychopaths to exploit, after all, nor to cover up their crimes.

As for the part about Dragons, well, that was just insurance.

Before he confirmed anything, he sent the oath’s contents to Bahamut, and let the dragon peruse it.

His companion only took a few moments to process it before returning his opinion.

Well forged. I approve. The Dragon declared mentally. It is strong as a Monarch’s oath should be, but promises the freedom and prosperity the Mantle is intended to bring. This is a Dragon’s oath, Aurelian. I am proud of you.

He accepted the praise happily, and sent back gratitude across the bond.

Aurelian took a breath after that and, with one more moment of carefully considering the wording again, threw his doubts to the wind and mentally hit ‘Y’ on the prompt.

The moment he did, he felt something tighten around his mind, body, spirit, Core, and Soulforce and felt the weight of the Mantle both increase and become more bearable in equal measure. An odd and paradoxical eventuality, but one he could describe in no other way. It felt more real, and somehow more comfortable all at once.

Oathforger is now Level 2!

Aurelian turned toward Karsys and Zylara, and took a deep breath.

“Are you both ready?” he asked. “It’s a lot.”

“We are.” Zylara confirmed with a nod.

“Entirely so.” Karsys agreed.

Aurelian hesitated only to consider how to approach the oath. Should he just give it to them? That seemed… wrong, somehow. Yes, he wanted them to treat him as a party member, but this wasn’t a party matter. It was more than any of them. He was the Reclaimer, and they were the people he’d been sent to liberate, to protect, and to lead. A moment of thought led him back to Bahamut, and he posed the question to his bond.

How should I do this? he asked with as much gravity to the question as he could mentally muster.

The dragon’s reply was, in truth, exactly what he should have expected.

Like a King. Bahamut sent back decisively.

Aurelian couldn’t find a good reason to argue, and turned his gaze to Zylara and Karsys. He swallowed back his doubts, swallowed back his personal reservations and self-esteem issues, and focused solely on what he needed to be—and what he needed to become: a guardian, shepherd, and leader.

A Ruler, in other words, such as had rarely been seen within the Realms.

Not since the days of Lucius Tollarius, and the once-great Elysean Empire.

“Come forth,” Aurelian said while he tried to ignore the sound of his heart thundering in his chest, “and kneel before me, if you would become citizens of the newly reborn Elysean Empire.”

Both his companions exchanged a glance, and then—much to his relief and surprise both—turned back to him with wide and approving smiles. Well, Zylara’s was more of a smirk than a smile, and there was a smoulder to her eyes that Aurelian wasn’t quite sure whether or not he imagined, but the meaning seemed to be the same; relief, approval, and excitement.

Aurelian couldn’t help it at that point.

He smiled back, widely, at both of them.

Then they came forward to kneel, and repeated the words he gave to them with firm and unwavering voices. There in the dark hollow where once a King of Dragons had resided and beneath the final grave of ancient Elysea, two children of its murdered people swore again the forgotten Oaths.

After five thousand years, the Mantle was born anew.

And an Empire’s Reclamation had finally begun.