Willow and Draco followed the crowd of students walking towards the academy, Willow’s head threatening to twist right off her shoulders as she kept looking around in awe of the Royal Highlands. As they neared the Academy building, they noticed that the crowd began to split, some people heading to the left around the building, and some heading right to the training grounds.
“So… which way do first-years go?” Draco asked out loud as they neared the split in the river. A hand appeared over his shoulder, pointing to the right.
“First-years go to the training grounds for the Rite of Entrance.”
Draco looked behind him to see a Second-Year girl with light brown hair tied back in a ponytail giving him and Willow a bright smile.
“The Rite of Entrance?” He asked, feeling confused. “I thought it was an exam?”
The girl giggled.
“They used to call it that, but since all you need in order to enter is a combat Spirit, they changed the name a few years back.”
“Oh, that’s smart!” Willow said as Draco felt the last bit of tension leave his shoulders. Yes! It’s just a showing of the Spirit! There was no way he could fail now! A tear of joy sparkled from his eye as Willow stared at him.
“Thank you,” Draco said, leading Willow to the right as the crowd parted.
On the training grounds stood roughly twenty other first-years, some looking around anxiously while others seemed bored of waiting. Draco recognized a few faces from the Awakening Ceremony whose names he hadn’t cared enough to remember. The boy with the two-headed dog was off to one side, staring at the practice dummies and obstacle courses. The girl with the leopard was standing in the middle of the group, hands together and apparently shaking in her boots. As he kept looking, an unpleasant face broke away from the crowd.
“Oh my! Pendra?” A familiar pudgy-faced, short-stacked Noble with a bowl cut waddled towards Draco, a fat brown squirrel perched on his shoulder. “Athurious Pendra? By the gods, what on earth are you doing here? Didn’t you embarrass your family enough at the Awakening Ceremony? Shouldn’t you have run off to the forest to hang from a tree? By the neck, if I may suggest?” The fat boy chortled at his joke, as a few other Nobles in the crowd gave stifled snorts.
“Klimt.” Draco replied dryly, trying to ignore the insult. “I see you have continued to become more wide than tall. Surprised you were able to manage the walk to get here.”
“Excuse you, this is the body of the wealthy.” The boy said, heaving his gut up and down with his hands. “And besides, unlike you I did not have all that far to walk.” Klimt finished with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But I am truly curious as to why you are here, Pendra. Your show at the Awakening was just embarrassing. But then again, considering the rest of your family I can’t say I blame you for being desperate to try and regain some of your dignity.” He scoffed with a mocking smirk. “Utter tragedies, the lot of you.”
Draco’s fists clenched as his anger was reaching its limit, but before he could do anything Willow stepped forward, cheeks puffed out in anger.
“You shut your whore mouth!” She snapped as Terra reached forward and hissed at the squirrel, causing it to cower in terror. Klimt froze in shock at her words.
“Wha...wha… what did you just call me?” He asked, dumbstruck as Draco leaned over to Willow.
“Where did you learn that word?” He asked her, and she looked at him in confusion.
“William told me it means ‘filthy liar’,” she replied innocently. From the crowd, the commoners all roared with laughter as the nobles covered their mouths to stifle their own reactions, some doubling over from the effort.
Klimt began to turn red in the face as he clenched his pudgy little fists.
“You…” he said, shaking with anger. “How dare you make fun of me, you little bitch!” He yelled, stepping forward and winding up to slap Willow in the face. Before his hand could make contact however, another hand closed around his wrist, freezing his arm.
“That’s enough.” Jethro Kerach said, slightly tightening his grip on Klimt’s wrist, who began to howl in pain.
Draco stood, frozen. He hadn’t even come close to reacting, and now Jethro just stepped in and made a fool of him.
“Stand down!” Shouted a voice from the academy. Everyone turned to see six people approaching from the building. One of them, a man with the sides of his head shaved and what remained of his hair styled in a long black devil horn hanging down between his eyes, approached them ahead of the others. He stepped up to Jethro and Klimt, glaring at the pair of them.
“Let ‘im go.” He growled, almost nose to nose with Jethro, who did not comply.
“And if I don’t?” Jethro replied coldly, matching the man’s glare.
“I wasn’t asking, kid.” He said, tilting his head up slightly. Without warning he grabbed Jethro by the back of the head and pulled it down, smashing his face into his knee. “Hoooooh…” he said again, a note of impression in his voice. Jethro’s nose was broken and bleeding, his right eye squinting shut from the pain, but his grip still remained on Klimt’s wrist as his open left eye continued to glare back at the man. “This first-year’s showing some promise.” He said with a smile as he took a step back.
Jethro released his hold on Klimt, who scurried away like a whipped dog. He looked to Willow as she stared at him in shock.
“Are you alright?” He asked.
“I am…” she replied, staring at his face. “But your nose…”
Jethro touched his face and seemed to only then notice that his nose was broken.
“I’m fine.” He said, reaching up, pinching it and, with a wet crack, fixing it. He wiped the blood across the back of his hand before walking away, his giant white bear following with a low growl.
“Oh wow…” Willow said, eyes shimmering and cheeks slightly red. Draco clicked his tongue in irritation.
“I could’ve done that if… you know… it was me…” he muttered as Willow gave him a sideways look.
“Last night you stub your toe and scream for, like, five minutes.”
“Hey!” Draco snapped, turning red. “Come on, I… look, it’s a known fact that toes are more sensitive than noses, alright?” He said as the group of first-years all followed the devil horn to an open area, where two others who had come out with him had set a clay jar on a wooden stool.
“All right, listen up, you thumb-suckers!” The devil horn shouted, causing the group to fall silent. “This is to be your Right of Entrance. I’m only going to explain this once, so pay attention. First, Professor Horn will call you forward.” He gestured to a short dark skinned older man who had the physique of a small mountain. “When he does, you will come stand over here and show us your Spirit. After that, you will attempt to break the jar –” he pointed to the clay jar on the stool – “-- over there. You will only get one shot at the jar, so make it a good one. When we are done with all of that, you will join the second and third-years inside for the Entrance Ceremony. After which you will then be split up into…” he trailed off as he started counting heads. “Four squads of six, led by myself and my esteemed colleagues behind me. And we will be in charge of your combat training for the next three years. Got it? Good. Professor Horn, they’re all yours.” He finished, walking back to the others as the professor walked forward.
“Alright,” he said in a low, gruff voice, “Akland, Benjamin.”
A young man with messy blonde hair stepped forward slowly, apparently nervous with all of the eyes on him. A light brown cougar followed closely behind him, eyeing the area suspiciously. The boy stopped in front of the professor, who gave him a soft smile.
“It’s alright, son, go ahead.”
He nodded nervously and looked down at his Spirit, placing a shaking hand on its head.
“R-r-r-rajah.” He stuttered. The cougar vanished in a flash of light, leaving Benjamin holding the leather handle of a long chained morning star.
“Very good, very good.” Professor Horn said, nodding as four of the five people behind him started writing notes down on pads of paper. The sixth person, one of the two women of the group, stepped forward and stood a small ways behind the jar. Placing her hands together in a somewhat strange way, she stared at the jar with a spooky, spaced-out gaze.
“Uh… what is she doing?” Benjamin asked, and Horn looked to the woman.
“Oh, she is a Cleric in Training. She is currently casting an Impact Barrier around the jar, so that we may gauge your strength a bit more accurately. Your strike will cause the barrier to change color, depending on how close you come to breaking it. Blue means weak, green means mediocre, yellow means good, and red means incredible.”
“And what if we break it?” A girl with violet hair asked from the group. Professor Horn chuckled.
“If you break it, well, that would mean you are probably going to be one of the next generation of the Order of the Cross.”
The girl nodded, her expression unchanging.
Benjamin took a deep breath and gathered the chain up in his hands, closing his eyes and muttering to himself.
“The river is calm, the water is clear. The river is calm, the water is clear…”
His eyes snapped open and he wound up his attack; the chain links chattering as they whipped through the air around him. He let out a battle shout and swung forward, the chain soaring in his chosen direction as the morning star head rocketed towards the jar. It struck the barrier, barely a hair’s length from the surface of the jar, and bounced off into the air. The barrier lit up at the point of impact a dark yellow. Benjamin let out a sigh of relief as the morning star reverted back into the cougar, which let out a yowl of triumph.
“Very impressive!” Horn slapped his hands together, “Wonderful start! Yes, next is… Black, Sebastian!”
From the group came a tall and thin noble with long, silky black hair, keen eyes and a devilish smile. He stood before Horn and struck a dramatic pose.
“I see that thee have called forth thy spectacle for which to bear witness. Worry not, for I have these great powers within me under control... Mostly.” He added, with an ominous tone. Everyone in the area stared at him with a blank expression, unsure of what they had just witnessed. Professor Horn was the first to recover.
“I… I see. Well then, let's have a look, shall we?”
Sebastian struck another pose.
“Come forth, my servant, your Master calls upon you in this dire hour!”
From a tree a short ways off came the flapping of wings as a raven took flight, flying over Sebastian’s head, who struck another pose, this time with his right arm extended up to the sky.
“Unbind! Griamore!” He called out, and the raven vanished in a cloud of black feathers, out of which fell a thick leather-bound book, which missed Sebastian’s hand by an inch and instead struck down onto his head, spine first, with a dull thud.
Everyone continued to stare in shocked silence except for Willow, who applauded, her eyes wide with amazement.
“It would have been more impressive if he caught it.” She said as Sebastian hunched over on the ground, both hands on his goose egg.
“How is he a Knight candidate?” Draco heard someone in the group whisper. “How is a book going to fight against monsters?”
“Are you quite alright?” Professor Horn asked, not sure whether to be concerned for the boy’s physical or mental health.
Sebastian picked up the book and rose to his feet, brushing his hair aside with a dramatic flair.
“‘Tis nothing to concern thyself with. Now, stand back and behold the wonder that is… my power!” He opened the book in his right hand and held it outstretched in front of him, left hand hovering beside his face, palm pointing to the pages, which began to flip on their own. The pages suddenly stopped and Sebastian’s left hand began to glow in a pale blue light. “As to Ashes, as to Dust; Strike Lightning!”
Sebastian thrust his left palm out towards the jar and a bolt of lightning shot out from his hand, striking the jar and arcing up into the sky as the Impact Barrier reflected the blast, its surface glowing dark red.
The gathered crowd remained speechless as Professor Horn’s hands thundered in applause.
“Magnificent!” He boomed. “Positively magnificent! We have not had a Caster in decades!”
“Caster?” Klimt exclaimed in shock.
“As in magic?” A female voice piped up.
“Amazing,” Draco breathed, eyes wide as sweat ran down his brow. How could he battle against someone like that? The blast was so fast his eyes couldn’t even track it.
“Too bad the Caster is like… that…” Jethro muttered as Sebastian struck pose after pose, soaking in Horn’s praise. The group of recruits all nodded in agreement.
“Next!” Horn called.
The Rite seemed to take forever as each name was called and a new Spirit was shown.
“Deer, Anthony!”
A young noble with golden blonde hair stepped forward, his golden eagle turning into a pair of long bladed fighting knives. The Barrier gleamed orange.
Draco felt himself becoming impatient.
A boy who’s falcon turned into a bow shot an arrow at the jar. Yellow.
“Wait,” Draco thought to himself, suddenly feeling nervous again, “what if I don’t make it glow red? What if it’s only blue? What if it doesn’t react at all?”
His heart began to pound in his ears as the. Next name was called.
“Halfwing, Saphira!”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
The girl with the violet hair stepped forward, the right side of her face hidden behind her overgrown bangs. A unicorn stepped up beside her.
“Dawn.” She said, petting the mythical creature as it vanished in a flash of white light, reappearing in her hand as a rapier. She shot forward and struck the jar with a sharp thrust.
Dark red.
She clicked her tongue in frustration and walked back to the group.
“Jormund, Willow!”
Willow skipped out of the crowd, Terra already shifted into the ring. Her strike was very impressive, doing a spinning dance with her ring blade and using the built up momentum to add more force to the hit. Her effort was rewarded with an orange barrier. She turned and skipped back to the crowd as Horn kept the names coming.
“Kerach, Jethro!”
Axe in hand, Jethro hit the jar with a mighty overhead swing. The barrier shone red, and the stool’s legs sank a bit deeper into the dirt.
Draco could feel the pressure as his turn slowly inched closer, his heart pounding, his mind racing as he tried to think of what everyone would say if his strike was blue! He would be a laughing stock! He would have to hide his face forever! Surviving William’s training will have been for nothing!
“Pendra, Athurious!”
Draco jumped at hearing his name and looked at Professor Horn, calmly waiting for him. He felt Willow put a hand on his shoulder.
“You can do it.” She said, smiling.
“Yeah Pendra,” Klimt taunted from a ways away, “show us what your ugly little hat can do!”
“Piss off.” Draco said as he split away from the crowd, reaching up and taking the lizard off of his head. He stepped up to Professor Horn, who gave him a once over with his eyes and nodded with a soft smile.
“You’re the spitting image of your father in his youth,” Horn said, and Draco looked down at his feet. He barely remembered his father, only knowing that he had died back when he was very young.
“Thank you, Professor,” he said, not entirely sure how to feel about the statement.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.” Horn said, and Draco walked over to face the jar, feeling as though his heart had jumped up into his throat. He stared at it, his mind blanking as his unease continued to run rampant in his mind.
“Come on, focus!” He thought to himself. “You’ve practiced for this! You’ve prepared for this!” He looked down as he felt the lizard nuzzle its head against his chest. It let out a growl that almost seemed to be encouraging him.
“You’re right buddy,” he said, smiling in mild shame at his inaction, “there’s no reason to be so nervous. I don’t know why I keep doing that to myself.” He looked back to the jar once more and steeled himself.
“Draco.”
The lizard vanished in his arms, spiraling around his right hand as he held it out to the side, the long sword materializing to the aghast yelp of Klimt.
“Okay little guy,” Draco said, taking the sword in both hands and raising it over his right shoulder, its blade running across his back for a vertical slash, “let’s break it.”
The blade erupted into flames, drawing shocked gasps and shouts from the group.
“An Element? How?”
“He’s only a Rank One!”
Draco didn’t hear them. He only heard his heartbeat as he focused on the jar, feeling the energy of the flames flowing through his body.
“Envision the fire…” he muttered to himself, flames bursting to life on the ground around him as he focused the power. He took a slow, deep breath and focused on one thing at a time.
He felt the flames run through the muscles, his feet gripping the ground as he adjusted his stance ever so slightly. His muscles tensed, and he launched himself forward, rocketing towards the jar as he focused the energy into his arms.
“Wyvern Rush!” He shouted, swinging the sword with everything he had. The blade collided with the Impact Barrier and bounced off, the sword flying back up over Draco’s head. He kept his right hand’s grip on it, the force of the reflection pulling him back from the jar. He gritted his teeth as he stared at the jar. It hadn’t broken, but the barrier was shining a deep red from the hit.
“Hell yeah!” He smiled as his feet touched down on the ground again. He rested the sword on his shoulder and watched as the Impact Barrier slowly returned to its transparent state, the feeling of victory elating him thoroughly. He turned back to the crowd, all of whom were still staring in shock aside from Willow, who was clapping her hands ecstatically.
“You did good!” She exclaimed, and Draco felt his ego swell up.
“But of course!” He proclaimed proudly as he sauntered back towards the group. “I am a Pendra after all. I probably could have broken it had I put my full strength into it.”
He continued to gloat, unaware that everyone was ignoring him as the next name was called.
~
After close to an hour, all of them had completed the Right of Entrance. Professor Horn lowered the clipboard and looked to the other onlookers, who all nodded and lowered their own boards. One of the men walked over to the Cleric Trainee and tapped her on the shoulder, seemingly bringing her out of her trance. She lowered her hands and blinked a few times before taking a deep breath. The five examiners then made their way into the academy, while Horn called the attention of the first-years.
“All right now, you can all follow me to the assembly hall for the welcoming ceremony.”
He then began to make his way to a different door leading into the academy. The applicants all fell in line and followed him in, Draco walking beside Willow, behind Jethro, and in front of the boy with the twin-headed wolf. They entered in through a large set of wooden double doors, walked down a hallway and turned left, passing through another set of double doors that lead into a large open room. Several windows lined the upper walls of the room, which had roughly fifty people standing inside of it. At the back of them the floor raised up a few feet, elevating those standing there above the rest. Professor Horn turned and motioned for the first-ears to stop before he made his way to the back of the room and joined the others on the raised floor.
A second-year boy leaned over to the first-years and smiled.
“So. You guys have any wannabe knights in your group?” He asked, drawing confused looks from them.
“What does that mean?” Jethro asked, and the girl behind the second-year giggled.
“Last year we had two. A girl with a quill and a boy with a pitchfork!”
“Poor bastard thought it was a trident!” The boy laughed, drawing smiles and chuckling from the first-years.
“Why a quill?” The violet haired girl asked. “That’s clearly not a weapon.”
“She argued the quill is mightier than the sword,” another second-year boy chimed in, drawing more laughter.
Footsteps echoed through the room, and it immediately fell silent. Draco looked up to the front of the room and saw that a man had stepped forward, facing them all. He was tall, wearing a dark green robe adorned with silver stitching around the sleeves and shoulders. White silk gloves covered his hands, and his white hair ran down the sides of his head like a waterfall. What Draco found more curious about the man was the mask on his face; it seemed insect-like in nature, almost alien-looking. It was adorned with gems and gold, yet did not look as though it was meant to show off wealth, status, or fortune. No, the sight of it sent shivers down Draco’s spine. That mask was a warning: a sign of power.
“To all gathered here,” the man spoke in a deep, gentle voice, “I thank you. I am Calder Henwick, Headmaster of the Royal Knights’ Academy. You are the few who are chosen by fate to become Knights of the kingdom; the fewer still who choose to answer that call. You have chosen to come here, and lay down your lives for the benefit of the Kingdom of Drakara, and for that I thank you. To the returning students, I thank you for your determination in the face of adversity. To our first-years, I thank you for your courage, and I apologize for taking from you the easy lives you have known until now. Though you all may still be considered children, students, squires; to me, each and every one of you is a Knight of Drakara. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Thank you.”
With those words the Headmaster bowed his head to the students, then turned and walked off, leaving through a side door at the back of the room. The older students remained silent as the first-years looked around nervously.
“What kind of welcoming speech is that?”
“That was really ominous.”
“What was up with that mask?”
“He was preparing us.” The violet haired girl said, drawing stares from those who heard her. “This is not going to be a walk through a park. Even as students we will be expected to help protect the Kingdom.”
Before anyone could comment another person stepped forward at the head of the room; a middle aged woman with tan skin, graying hair and glasses.
“That will be all everyone. Second and third-years, you are dismissed for the remainder of the day. First-years, please remain here to be sorted into your squads. Thank you.”
The room emptied around the first-years as the older students all left along with the professors. Soon all that remained were the twenty-four rookies and four of the people who had been watching the Rite of Entrance. Several of the group shuffled about nervously, some trying to hide behind the ones who did not seem fazed by anything that had been said during the ceremony. The Devil Horn spoke.
“All right, listen up! The four of us will be splitting you all into squads of six! When you hear your name, you go with whichever one of us called you. They will be your Squad Leader for the next three years. Understood?”
A mumbled cluster of ‘yes’ and ‘sure’ came from the group. The Devil Spike’s temple throbbed.
“I SAID, ‘AM I FUCKING UNDERSTOOD!?!’”
The first-years snapped to attention and called out in unison, “Yes, Sir!”
“That’s better.” He grinned before turning to one of the others behind him. “Evander, take your pick.”
Another man stepped forward, a clipboard in hand. He had long black hair with a braid running across the back, cold eyes and a short, well kept black beard. He lifted the clipboard and began to read.
“Jethro Kerach, Victoria Kirkland, Samuel Grey, Klimt Westbor, Wyatt Young, Roan Nordegar.” He spoke with a low, somewhat tired voice. The six people he named broke away from the group and followed him as he walked towards the doors of the hall.
Draco watched, smiling, as Jethro left the hall.
“That’s right, go with your own group, Jethro. My squad will show you up at every turn!”
The Devil Spike lifted his board next.
“Alright, my name is Tywin Lancrest, and I am taking Lucretsia, Samantha, Dwight, Cameron, Elias, and Aaron. Let’s go.”
The six followed him out of the hall, though some clearly looked reluctant about it. From the remaining two, the last man stepped forward; he was tall and muscular with short cut blonde hair and rough stubble. He let out a yawn and lifted his clipboard.
“Sebastian Black. Saphira Halfwing, Arius Tsukaino, Elizabeth Faust, Willow Jormund, Athurious Pendra.”
Draco felt a minor heart attack when Willow’s name was called before his, as though they might be separated. But it was only natural for him to feel that concern. What would she do without him? She was his maid, after all. He was responsible for her well-being.
He followed the group as they walked out of the hall, hearing the last Squad Leader call out to the remaining six,”You lot with me! Let’s go!” They walked out of the door they had entered from and back out into the training yard. Draco could see the older students out further in the yard, visiting and sparring with one another. Further in he could see Jethro’s group already running one of the obstacle courses, while the Devil Spike’s group were leaving the grounds entirely, heading out of the gate back down to the Goldstone District. Their leader led them to a section of the training yard with several wooden platforms raised about three feet off of the ground and a large empty space of dirt between them. He approached one of the platforms and hopped his butt up onto it and gave them all a look over.
“Okay. My name is Davon Bastion. I’m 27 years old, a Third Rank Spirit Brand, and as of today, the person responsible for teaching you how to not shit yourselves on the battlefield. I know you have all heard the stories of the great Knights and how they vanquish evil and all that malarkey. But what you don’t hear are the tales of the fallen. You don’t hear about the Knights that got killed in their sleep because they didn’t have a watchman. Or the overconfident Squires who died fighting an Afflicted. My job is to make sure that you don’t turn out like the ones who never got a story.”
The six teenagers stared at him in silence. After a few moments he nodded.
“Looks like that message has settled in. Good. Now, let’s get to know one another. Starting with you.” He pointed at the redheaded boy with the twin-headed wolf. “Tell us about yourself.”
He sighed and reached over to his Spirit, giving each head a scratch.
“My name is Arius Tsukaino. I am an orphan, raised in Red River. I am fifteen.” He looked to Davon. “Like that?”
“That is the idea. Next, you with the glasses.” Davon said, pointing to a girl with long, wild blonde hair and thin round glasses who was reading a leatherbound book with no title. She looked up in shock at being addressed and pulled her knees up to her chin, trying to hide herself behind the book.
“Ummm… I am Elizabeth… Elizabeth Faust… My f-f-f-father is the doctor of Blackwood village…. he calls me Lizzy….” she said in a high pitched, timid voice.
“A doctor’s daughter? Nice.” Davon said, his expression softening. “Do you know any medicine or healing practices?”
“Umm!!! Yes! A little bit! I mean… kind of…” Her face turned red as she tried harder to shrink down behind her book. Willow hopped up behind her and started to pet her head, which seemed to cause a dilemma for the poor girl as she both enjoyed the comfort but also seemed to be terrified of how close Willow was.
Davon looked to be slightly confused as he shrugged and pointed to Willow.
“Okay, feel free to go next.”
Willow pointed at herself with her free hand, and when Davon nodded she smiled.
“My name is Willow! I love food, and I hate spiders! I also am not fond of the ‘bra’, but Maria says that all proper ladies must wear one.” She then gave Elizabeth’s back a glance and groped her, causing the girl to let out a terrified squeak. “Why Lizzy not wearing one?”
Elizabeth began to sob, her arms and legs dropping away in defeat as everyone could now see that she was, for lack of a better term, tragically flat. Several boys let out a low “oooohhh” as the third girl walked over and gave a comforting hug to Elizabeth while giving Willow a sharp look. Willow sat back, thoroughly confused as to what she had done wrong as Draco buried his face in a palm, making a mental note to speak to his sister about Willow’s need for education on physical boundaries.
Davon awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Right, moving along. You.”
“I am the Great Sebastian Black! And I-“
“Thank you, next.” Davon quickly cut him off, leaving Sebastian standing in stunned silence, a dramatic pose already in place. He looked to the girl hugging Elizabeth.
“Saphira Halfwing,” she said, letting go of Elizabeth, who reached out for her to come back as Willow grabbed hold of the poor girl. “I have been raised and trained by Gerand Halfwing. I am fifteen, and my goal is to take Gerand’s place in the Order of the Cross upon his retirement.”
“That shouldn't take too long.” Draco muttered loud enough for her to hear, and Saphira shot him a dangerous look. Davon heard as well, giving him a warning look.
“You’re up, Athurious.”
“Draco,” he replied before looking to everyone in the squad. “Please, everyone, just call me Draco.” He noticed that he had everyone's attention, and he just could not help himself. “But I am of the renowned House Pendra, younger brother of the former Head of the Order of the Cross, William Pendra and son of former Order of the Cross member Lance Pendra. As you all saw, I do have an elemental ability as a Rank One Brand, and I have been trained personally by my brother, William Pendra.” His words began to sink into the realm of braggartry, and the lizard on his head smacked itself in the face with its claw. “And I would like to take this time to elect myself as Squad Captain, seeing as I have obviously received the best training out of everyone present.”
“Whoa, slow your horse there, Draco,” Davon said, getting to his feet and approaching the boy. “We are not quite at the point of choosing a captain yet. And besides, we have Saphira here, who has been trained by a standing Order of the Cross member.”
“Please,” Draco scoffed. “Everyone knows the only reason Halfwing is in the Order is because my brother stepped down. If not for that, Halfwing would still be a no-name sellsword.”
“You take that back!”
Draco and Davon turned to see Saphira glaring at Draco, fists shaking at her sides.
“What?” Draco asked, shrugging his arms. “I am only speaking the truth. Gerand Halfwing was nothing more than a common sellsword who just happened to be in the right place at the right time to get his spot on the Ord-“
“You shut your damn mouth!” Saphira shouted, her unicorn trotting up beside her, aggressively pawing the dirt as it lowered it head towards Draco.
“Or what?” Draco taunted, and Davon sighed, scratching his head.
“Okay, anyone else interested in being Squad Captain?” He asked out to the remaining four, who all shook their heads. “Very well, Draco and Saphira, you will settle this with a duel. The winner will be Squad Captain, the loser will respectfully keep their silence. Agreed?”
Saphira said nothing, simply nodding as she reached out and touched Dawn; the creature flashing back into its rapier form. She took her stance as Draco lifted his Spirit off of his head.
“This will be too easy.” He said with a smirk.
The Salamander burst into flames, the long sword materializing out of the fire in Draco’s hands. Davon stepped aside and looked between the two, his arm raised over his head.
“Ready?” He asked.
Saphira nodded.
Draco grinned.
Davon swung his arm down between them.
“BEGIN!”