The twin cities of Caelis-Caerinne were, perhaps, the most treacherous environment that Thrynn had to offer, no matter if you were a knight or a nobody.
Streets of gorgeous white marble ran like veins through the divided metroplex, the enormous fault which bisected it reminiscent of a warrior's fatal blow; the homes and shops, towers and taverns reached skyward for freedom from their otherwise claustrophobic existence. Red banners and red shingles, oft trimmed with gold, offered the only regular color one's eyes could hope to find along the sister cities' skyline - closer to earth, market stalls haphazardly lined every road wide enough to accommodate them. These in and of themselves were no cause of true alarm, but it was not the architecture that brought danger and excitement, but the people.
Cutthroats and pickpockets laid around every corner, hucksters peddled wares both fine and foul, and thugs ran every alehouse too poor to have its own security (and a few that made more than enough to). Migrants with bright eyes and big dreams traveled with hopes for the future only to find themselves in a whirl of commerce and chicanery, divested of their purse and possessions. Politics seemingly existed only to further the devices of the upper class - an upper class that was constantly shifting like the tide with the rise and fall of commercial elites, sometimes overnight. Every sort of pitfall imaginable lay within this place, the largest urban area in all of Thrynn... and yet, it was not without merit.
Though the gamble was great, Caelis-Caerinne was not known only for its corruption - it was also the home of heroes, great warriors and leaders, true champions of not only the province the cities were named after but of the realm as a whole. It was the birthplace of some of the greatest and noblest that had ever been, and it was where aspirants of all ages, races, creeds, and sexes could (with effort) begin their own tale of glory. All became equal within its ivory crucible, and all would be judged as equal until proven otherwise.
This is where our story begins.
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Sunlight streamed in through the stained glass of Thyriss's bedroom window, falling directly upon his sleeping face. The dormitories were quiet at this time of day; their occupants were busy elsewhere, usually training or attending schooling, but today was an exception. It was special. Today was graduation day.
Finally, the sleeper shifted and rose. With a yawn he put his arms wide, stretching and shaking, rousing himself to wakefulness with effort describable only as Herculean. To pry oneself from the soft mattress and silken sheets of the dormitory beds was like sin, and yet he felt a strange compulsion to, as if there was something he was missing. Thin lips smacked softly as his face scrunched this way and that, bleary eyes creaking open to survey the scene.
Four bunks to a half, eight bunks to a room. Each bunk was an alcove set into the wall itself, decorated with keepsakes of its owner, with a single tall window of stained glass depicting a hero of the past offering light from the sun upon one wall. Candles burned day and night within, giving everything a soft warmth, ensuring that sleep was easy and the atmosphere was relaxed. It all seemed normal to him, our gentle sleeper, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. And then, just as he was about to lay back down and try for a few more minutes of rest, it struck him.
It was Gods-be-damned graduation day.
In a flurry of crimson bedsheets and sun-kissed flesh he sprang to his feet, nearly tripping upon his own comforter in his haste. Oh shit, oh shit, was all his sleep-addled brain could repeat to itself as he rushed to don what he could of his raiment: a loose white shirt, tight leather pants, his favorite boots (which he hadn't any time to strap up), and the harness which held his blade. With but a brief moment to check his appearance in the mirror as a luxury he was off, sprinting down empty stone halls with all the speed he could muster, stumbling over his own feet as he went.
Of all the days to sleep in, this was the worst, he should think.
Flights of stairs were taken in as few bounds as could be allowed; doors were thrown wide with utter disregard; hallways became racing paths where he was the only competitor. The Institute's grandness and size had never felt so utterly at odds with him. Not a single soul was present to cheer him on or greet him as he passed, and his blade-like ears began to burn and thrum with every vacant chamber he passed. Why had he slept in so damnably late? What was wrong with him? Years of struggle, of tireless work, of training and progress and growth, only to -
"...and... concludes our... congratulations... companies..."
'Concludes?! Oh, no, oh no. Not like this.' He turned one last corner before setting sight upon the heavy wooden doors that led to the courtyard, sweat beginning to bead upon his brow. This was it: the final stretch. All he had to do was make it outside before the ceremony was over, even if it meant the shame of the crowd's attention. Being late to a party was better than not attending at all, right? Just a few more steps, a few more feet, and all would be forgiven...
His hands met the thick double doors and shoved with all their might, sending them crashing open. And on the other side? A grand pavilion decorated with multicolored banners, golden statues of great warriors and sorcerers, and a central stage upon which sat a podium and a wrought-iron brazier. Wooden benches as old as the Institute itself were laid out along either side of a single bisecting aisle, the petals of roses scattered along the path. The benches were almost entirely empty.
Upon the stage, a wizened human male was conversing jovially with some slightly younger associates, each of them clad in appropriately red robes. A few mixed graduates mingled near the stage's edge, paying no mind to Thyrris's arrival. Custodians were already entering from side doors to begin clearing the courtyard of confetti and furniture. Indeed, none in attendance even seemed to notice his arrival. He had been too late after all.
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His heart fell like an anchor, and his body dropped with it. Knees fell upon flagstones with a painful thud, but he didn't even register the impact; his mind was in turmoil, eyes unfocused, staring blankly up at the nearly-empty stage. He had missed his graduation, and all that it entailed - not just freedom from the contract that bound him here, but the future he had been promised for the past eight years. It hung in jeopardy now. There was a dull rumble from the stage, but he didn't quite parse it at first; only when it came again did it pierce his sudden fugue, snapping his eyes into focus.
"...Thyrris, my boy? Is that you? Good gods, child, you're late! Come up here already, would you? Now is not the time for dramatics, or whatever it is that you're doing. Hurry, none of us are getting any younger."
The eldest of the men in robes, the human, was speaking to him and beckoning him forth. In an instant Thyrris's melancholy was swept away and replaced with desperate hope, forcing him to his feet so that he might rush up to join the elders. In the blink of an eye he was there, taking the steps in a single leap, nearly crashing into the podium and brazier in his haste. The human caught him before he could bowl them all over, an outstretched hand resting upon the graduate's shoulder to steady him and keep him still.
"Alright, alright, that's enough! You're lucky we're all still here, you know... But I'm sure you've berated yourself enough, haven't you? I won't give you and undue grief, at least, not right now. Are you ready?"
Thyrris's mouth opened and he began to babble, the seeds of excuse and apology starting to grow forth while the other elders quietly snickered. He could barely get out a "Headmaster Aluir, I am so sorry..." before he was returned to silence by a snapping of the old man's fingers. The headmaster chuckled as Thyrris became quiet, the former shaking his head and clearing his throat.
"Thyrris! Hush with all this nonsense. I asked you a question, child; I expect an answer. Are you ready?" The headmaster raised a single bushy brow as he waited for a response, and Thyrris fumbled with his tongue for a split second before nodding his assent.
"Yes, headmaster. I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
"Good. Then let us begin. Remove your shirt." The headmaster turned to the brazier, a wrought iron bowl filled with thick reddish ink wherein a small flame danced; as Thyrris slipped free of his shirt, each elder took the first two fingers of their left hand and dipped them into the ink. With his torso now bared and the remaining graduates watching from the sides of the stage, Thyrris turned out towards the empty pavilion, his back presented to the robed assembly. Headmaster Aluir began to speak again, his voice cast out into the emptiness for the benefit of none but the custodians.
"Thyrris Alastucci, child of Sunhome, aspirant and warrior... Today, you stand before your peers and teachers as a graduate of our venerable, esteemed institution. For two hundred years, men and women like yourself have trekked the path you now tread; from all walks of life they have come. Prosperity and poverty, influence and infirmity, East or West or North or South, it matters not. Countless generations of heroes have risen and fallen before your birth, and countless more will come after your death. However, in this moment, you are the tie that binds - you are the preservation of flame, the repetition of valor, the hope of mortality. Your life is now not lived for yourself, but for all of us - for Thrynn itself. Do you accept this charge?"
Thyrris nodded, his throat tight, his spit thick. He could barely muster his response.
"I do."
The headmaster nodded and his hand came forth to Thyrris's back, just below the nape of his neck. Wizened fingers applied the gently burning salve, drawing a pained gasp from the graduate as a rune was slowly, deliberately drawn. His skin was scarred instantly, ink flowing into the flesh to remain there as a tattoo - it was tender and fresh, but the flame did not follow the ink into him. When the headmaster took his fingers away they were bare, though the burn-scars of countless ceremonies left them mottled and wilted still.
"...you have taken the first mark. Three remain. The rune I have branded you with represents your contract: this contract is simple, but will bind you forevermore. From this moment on, you are an envoy of the Southern Star, the light which protects mortals and which rids the land of evil. The next three marks represent three further contracts: your duty to Thrynn, your duty to the Gods, and your duty to yourself. First, may you always be true to this realm and its people, through grief and war, through peace and joy; second, may you always be true to the Gods, whom watch over us from Heaven and whom guide us by their lasting grace; and last, may you always be true to yourself, that your own life never be thoughtless nor aimless, and that you shall always seek strength from within as without. Do you accept these charges?"
As the charges were read, the three other elders made their own marks - four runes in total, now running from the top of his back to his tailbone, each a scar upon the flesh as well as a tattoo of ink. Thyrris steeled himself for these, not a single sound drawn from him now, his eyes shut in concentration. When the headmaster finishes speaking, Thyrris nods again. "I do."
"Then, Thyrris Alastucci, I hereby name you an envoy of the Southern Star, a representative of this Institute, and a proven warrior. May your life be filled with danger so that others' may not; may your life be filled with hardship so others' may be free; and, if necessary, may your life be given so others' may continue unburdened. Re-dress yourself, and venture forth into the world."
Thyrris sighed deeply, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his lips. His shirt was donned again before he turned back to face the elders, his movements measured and ginger so as to not agitate the burns on his back. The headmaster decided to disregard this completely by clapping him on the shoulder, making the graduate wince with sharp pain. The scattering of graduates who stood near the stage clapped and cheered, meager mirth still helping to ease the pain in his spine.
"Congratulations, Thyrris. Now is... well, it's where I would assign you your pact-company, if anyone was still here who needed someone. However, as you can see, most everyone is gone, and those who remain are taken. Instead, take the rest of the day for yourself - I'll see if I have any groups on record who could use someone with your talents."
"Thank you, headmaster. I... I can't tell you how much this means to me. If anything comes up, please, let me kno-" He couldn't finish before the headmaster cut him off with a laugh and a nod, gesturing him insistently to get off of the stage.
"Yes, yes, Thyrris, I will. Now go, most of the other graduates headed into town to celebrate. I'm sure your friends would be remiss to not share this moment with you. We will speak tomorrow. Go!" The headmaster didn't need to stay anything more; Thyrris got the hint once they arrived at the stairway down, nodding his silent thanks to the assembled elders and then heading off towards the far door, opposite the one he had entered from. This was, perhaps, the best day of his life so far.
And as he went, his feet passing across the doorway out of the Institute and into Caelis-Caerinne proper, a shadow followed behind him.