“Fledglings, get up!”
Today, the mentors didn’t send us to the refectory for our meager breakfast of burnt porridge as usual but ordered us to put on our cloaks and follow them outside. The boys around me whispered. I only caught a few words, but even they were enough to make my heart beat faster, still remembering the cold of the night.
“Our swords are ready!”
It was about time. They promised it wouldn’t take a month, but more than that had already passed since the first snow fell.
I saw Fatu’s lips curl into a smile. As well as Biho’s. In essence, they were both, if not correct, then very close to the truth. The South didn’t solve the problem of the Reolians taking over the mines of the Great House Vistoso. Otherwise, why would it take almost four months to forge our swords?
But no one had the desire to call out Adalio over it. Or they didn’t want to start a fight in front of the mentors, who were moving silently in front and behind our formation. All except Glebol, who woke us up this morning.
Soon, it became clear where they were taking us — to the temple, to its black, snow-covered walls.
We climbed the swept stairs and formed a semi-circle in front of the altar. Glebol and Suav were standing beside it, surveying us, frozen, silent. Suav nodded and stepped forward, capturing our gazes completely. His voice, strong, loud, and confident rose above our heads, reaching the vault and echoing strangely back.
“Fledglings! Fledglings... The day you’ve been waiting for is drawing near. The day you’ve been waiting for... In a few months, you’ll become idars. Become idars... Of course, in some of you, the ancestral blood will be stronger. Ancestral blood...”
I shuddered and swallowed when I heard this.
“Each of you will receive a blessing and a gift from the Keepers. Blessing of an idar... The idar blood in your veins already makes you stronger and more resilient than any commoner. The blood stronger than anything...”
I didn’t know what it was — the power of his voice, the temple, the help of the of an adept of External Techniques — but Suav’s speech was hypnotic. The echo repeated his words in a way that no ordinary echo ever could, as if it was conducting its own, separate, and no less important speech.
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“...the gift will be the blessing that’ll clothe your body like armor by the right of generations. The blessing... But it’s a double-edged sword, as your opponents, rivals, and enemies will possess the same. Enemies will... The time has come to exchange the wooden swords for iron. Receive the swords of idars...” Suav’s voice sounded like steel. “On your knees, fledglings! Bow to your blades!”
Cloaks and robes rustled. Suav surveyed us and nodded. The mentors entered the sanctuary, each with an unsheathed sword in their outstretched arms.
Someone glanced sideways, not daring to look away from Suav, while I turned my head resolutely, watching the approaching figures, trying to identify my blade.
The mentors outside had shed their cloaks, leaving only idar silk, which shone in the light of the enchanted lamps no less brightly than the steel in their hands.
In a few heartbeats, a line of mentors stood before us. I hadn’t even realized there were so many of them in the Forge. A fleeting thought crossed my mind, wondering what the sword-holding ceremony must have been like in the past, when there were many more students. The thought came and left.
Suav’s voice resounded again under the vaults.
“The Forge gives you, its fledglings, the first gift — the steel with which you will protect your Houses, your honor, and your life. The steel with which you will bring glory to the Keepers and our kingdom.” He looked to the left. “Adalio of the Great House Tenebro.”
One of the mentors stepped forward and passed the sword from hand to hand. Adalio touched the polished black steel with his lips.
“May the ichor in your veins always be rich, Adalio. Rise and stand with us, the initiated.”
One by one, our names thundered out. Then it was my turn.
“Lial of the Minor House Denudo.”
I held out my hands and received the sword. I touched its cold red steel with my lips.
“May the ichor in your veins always be rich, Lial. Rise and stand with us, the initiated.”
As I rose, I barely contained a twisted grin. If I only knew whose ichor flew more abundantly in my veins, Amania’s or the Nameless One’s?
Suav considerably dampened the solemnity of the ceremony. As soon as the last one of us stood up with his sword in hand, he mused aloud:
“In recent years, this tradition has begun to lose its charm. I won’t be surprised if your children or grandchildren do without it. Before, you could challenge your peers to a duel without waiting to be initiated. And kill them. Many Houses waited for this moment with apprehension, many lost their first, richest, and most precious blood. Their heirs.” Suav’s voice was tinged with mockery. “But you are in the Forge. And we haven’t yet relinquished our greatest privilege: to temper the ichor in your veins at any cost. So you’ll experience firsthand what it was like for your grandfathers and fathers. From this day forward, you will fight three duels a day. The rewards will be breakfast, dinner, and a good night’s rest.”
Someone groaned softly. I understood him to a certain extent. Lose three times and you’d run all night on an empty stomach. It wasn’t as bad as dying, but it wasn’t pleasant either. I had experienced it myself.
“Take the fledglings away.”