"A warrior's true value lies in the measure of their courage, for without it, all strength falters. Tenacity is the foundation of fortune, and honor is the scale upon which warriors are judged," Jake chants to himself as he meticulously sharpens his blade manually with a whetstone. A chant that not many choose to recite proudly, most would look at Jake as if he was crazy or foolish to hold onto the old ways.
As the hours tick down to the impending Gala at the Grand Haven Hotel, Jake, alongside his fellow warriors, diligently readies their gear and equipment, anticipating the uncertainties that may arise during the event. In the realm of warriors, preparedness is key, especially for such significant occasions as this one.
A hundred invitations were sent out, extending a rare opportunity for warriors to attend an event hosted by none other than the Order of Harmonium, perceived by many as traitors to the cause. Adding to the unease, the warrior’s long standing adversaries, the mages, are also slated to grace the event with their presence.
Amidst whispers of conspiracy and potential traps, a significant fraction of warriors voiced their concerns and unwillingness to attend the Gala. The recent exodus of warriors defecting to the Order only fueled suspicions further. With the enigmatic motives of both the Order and the mages in question, apprehension hung heavy in the air.
Jake, however, harbored doubts of his own. While he refrained from outright dismissal of the prevailing concerns, he couldn't help but entertain the possibility that the Gala might indeed be a carefully orchestrated trap.
John Ragnavuld, the present Lord Commander of the Knights, skillfully quelled the unrest within his people and proposed a pragmatic resolution.
Only those prepared to face potential dangers and prove their suspicions should attend the event. This way, those who volunteer acknowledge the risk, facing the possibility of betrayal with eyes wide open. It may raise questions, but it ensures fairness for those willing to accept the invitations.
Despite the protests from many warriors, John himself was obligated to attend the Gala, regardless of his personal choice. This mandate sparked further outcry among the ranks, with concerns raised about their leader walking into what could potentially be a deadly trap.
However, John, resolute and steadfast, refused to succumb to fear or retreat from the challenge ahead. He was not one to shy away from adversity or feel remorse, even in the face of potential death. With unwavering determination, he prepared to confront whatever dangers awaited him at the Gala, standing as a beacon of courage and resolve for his fellow warriors to follow.
Jake, among the volunteers, eagerly desired to attend the Gala. His motivation stemmed mostly from selfishness, driven by the curiosity to witness such an event firsthand. Guided by rumors and stories from the elders, he had heard about how mages celebrated and indulged in self-admiration during their parties. While gloating wasn't a warrior's trait, the prospect of being part of an esteemed gathering, considered the pinnacle of society, was too enticing to resist.
Regrettably, his volunteering remained a secret; Jake surreptitiously slipped into the pile of parcels, claiming one for himself. With any luck, discovery would come too late to revoke his invitation. Thievery isn't befitting a warrior's character, yet Jake's curiosity and rebellious spirit overpowered his better judgment.
That was precisely what Jake hoped for, if only his uncle hadn't barged into the family training grounds with a face as red as a tomato. "Jake Thompson!" he bellowed, causing Jake to halt his activities and snap to attention. "Uncle, what's the matter?" Jake inquired.
His uncle advanced toward him with fury, and Jake made an effort not to flinch as the footsteps resonated like thunder. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? Do you take me for a fool?" he demanded, locking eyes with Jake. However, it was all too evident that Jake was lying, given his consistent avoidance of eye contact. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, uncle," Jake replied, his voice trembling slightly with fear.
His uncle extended his hand, indicating that Jake should hand over something. A prolonged silence hung between them, and despite Jake's best efforts, he eventually gave up, surrendering the stolen invitation into his uncle's open hand.
Jake looks at the ground, unwilling to look at the ragging look coming from his uncle’s face as he continues to stare down at him. His uncle looks at the latter in his hands and sighs, “This is unbecoming of a warrior, Jake. We do not steal what is not ours. You should know that, Do you remember?”
Jake's gaze remained fixed on the ground, avoiding the furious expression on his uncle's face as it bore down on him. His uncle inspected the stolen invitation in his hands and sighed, "This is unbecoming of a warrior, Jake. We do not steal what is not ours. You should know that, I taught you that. Do you remember?" he inquired.
Jake nodded his head.
"But I understand why you would do this behind my back. I know that the Gala is an exclusive event, one that may be the only time where the Oracles would accept to stand right next to a Knight," he said, lifting the letter. "Look at me, Jake," he commanded.
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Jake lifted his head slowly, meeting his uncle's stern gaze. "This is not a luxury trip. I am doubtful myself about the Oracles' sudden acceptance to allow us into their Gala. Never in thousands of years, and now it is coming to fruition. I don't trust them as much as you do; I'll say it now. As the Knights of the Iron-shield's 999th Lord Commander and your uncle, I am not letting you come with us to the Gala," John declared firmly.
Jake's expression shifted to one of concern as he pleaded, "But Uncle, you're heading there too. What if something happens to you, the Knight's Lord Commander? I chose to go because I couldn't leave you alone over there. It wasn't just my own selfishness. Do you even have a suitable candidate to take your place if that happens?" However, John only rolled his eyes in response.
"It will take more than a hundred mages to put your old man down," John declared with a smirk. It was Jake's turn to return the eye roll to his uncle.
“I’m still going with you. I can’t let this opportunity slide, this Gala may be the most important in our lives, and I want to be there with you when it happens, wouldn’t you want that?” Jake persuaded me.
"Jake, I understand that you want to experience this with me. After your mother passed, I made a promise to her that I would look after you until you're strong enough to take care of yourself. But this is a significant risk that I cannot afford to take. You know how dishonorable these mages can be; they don't fight fair and would seize any opportunity to gain the upper hand." John placed his hand on Jake's shoulder. "I would give my life to spare you from even being near one of them," he explained, driven by his own reasons.
"I know, that's why you're the Honorable Johnathan Ragnavuld. No one would dare to attack you dishonorably, not even a mage. Their ego is too fragile to sacrifice for their gain. Besides, the Order of Harmonium is handling most of the security; they wouldn't allow the mages or us to do harm to anyone," Jake reassured.
John sighed once more, "Come with me; let's go to my office," he said as he guided Jake away from the training ground and up to his workspace located at the highest tower of their home. "There is something I need to show you."
Following his uncle into his study, Jake stared at the letter still being held in John's hand, his mind beginning to whirl around the thought of the Gala. Upon reaching the top, John entered first, placing the letter down on his desk, and walked over to grab something from his cabinet.
From the cabinet, John pulled out a small ornate wooden box, adorned in red and gold colors. "I have been waiting for the moment to pass this down to you, as your grandfather did before me. Since I don't have kids, I figured that you would be fit to have it," he said, handing the box over to Jake. Taking it from John's hands, Jake looked at it with curiosity. "What's in it? May I open it?"
John nods, “Yes, go ahead. I figure you’d be at the proper age to wield them.” he said.
Jake slowly unlocked the latch on the box and lifted the top cover to reveal two objects nestled between the red satin cloth. Inside the ornate box was a pristine-looking dagger, its hilt and blade fitted with gold and red jewelry. The blade itself looked sharp and reflective as a mirror, not a speck of dust laid upon it. It appeared as if the dagger had been perfectly cleaned not too long ago.
"That dagger is renowned for piercing the heart of the God of War and Valor. It is said to bestow upon its wielder exceptional skill, strategic acumen, and unparalleled bravery on the battlefield. This blade served me faithfully in my youth as a young warrior. The circumstances that led it into your great grandfather's hands remain a mystery, but don't dwell on it too much," John explained.
Jake carefully lifted the dagger from the box, running his fingers over the black leather grip that seemed to reciprocate the touch. It carried a peculiar sensation that eluded Jake's attempts to fully comprehend.
Placing the dagger carefully back into its box, Jake shifts his focus to the other item nestled within. Retrieving it, he exposes a purple gem affixed to a string – a necklace of sorts. "This was your mother's necklace before she passed. She wished for you to have it, but I safeguarded it until I believed you were responsible enough not to lose it. There's nothing extravagant about it, no hidden enchantments, just a simple gem on a string for you to wear around your neck."
Jake clasps the necklace around his neck and examines the gem. "It's beautiful, just like Mom," he remarks, a somber expression clouding his face.
"You take good care of those; they are yours now. In case something bad does happen to me tonight, I would, at least, want you to have these with you to guide and protect you if I'm not there. But what I’ve said is final; you cannot come with me to the Gala. As I have said, I love you too much to lose. I’d be damned if I were to ever outlive you,” John declared, taking the letter from his desk and securing it in his pockets.
“How many volunteers would be going with you?” Jake asked, wanting to know at least how many of their clan will be attending.
“Atleast about a dozen of us, or two. But even so, I’ll be taking these remaining letters with me to prevent anymore fools such as yourself from following us. So don’t get any ideas, got it?” John said.
"I understand, uncle. I hope the Gala goes well, and I'll be thankful if I get to see you tomorrow when you get back," Jake said. "Still, thank you for the gift. It means a lot to me."
John nods, “Anytime, my nephew. Now, off you go, and don’t get into any trouble while I am away. Just because you're family doesn't mean that the consequences won't fall on you. Understand?” he warned. Jake sighed as he left the study, “Yes, uncle. I know. See you tomorrow,” he said, waving goodbye to John. Now with the letter gone, Jake had to find another way to gain access to the Gala.
Jake understood that his uncle intended to monitor the bag of letters, and only a few volunteers would be present at the Gala. This suggested that fewer than a hundred warriors would be attending, leaving a slim possibility for Jake to enter the Gala. It might seem foolish, reckless even, but Jake couldn't bear the thought of missing such an event for anything in the world.
It might infuriate his uncle later, but Jake would have to face the consequences when the time came. For now, he needed to focus on preparing his weapons and gear for the Gala.