The 15th Accolade of the Cerulean Spire

Date: 07/07/2013 at 05:16
From: Anonymous
To : Everyone
Subj: The 15th Accolade of the Cerulean Spire

The Lord of the Cerulean Spire knelt in the inner courtyard of the tower, whispering a soft prayer as he lifted the massive, rune-inscribed broadsword that would shortly be used to knight the three new Wardens within his charge. The power of the sacred sword surged up his arm and he nodded, grimly. Its weight never lessened, not to him, nor to the house that protected the city from dangers such as it withheld from the citizens, and they did well to remember that. Duty. That's what today was about: the fulfillment, and the promise of duty.

Stepping into the fresh air, he strode with purpose to the Imperial Plaza, where the Imperiate and those deserving accolade were waiting. Suppressing his nerves with pride in those who were not only now his peers but also his brothers and sister in spirit, he spoke the traditional words, explaining to the gathered crowd what it meant to be a Knight of the Cerulean Spire, the importance of the moment in the lives of those gathered, and the exemplary worthiness Dame Ferrous Zuiho_sho, Sir Wyverex Zuiho_sho, and Sir Baldazar Lighthawk had shown through word and deed. One by one, the three were presented and, before their god and the mortals that they loved, each was bound by the Imperiate to the ancient Wardens, and to Cyrene as a true and noble defender to their last breath.

This, the 15th Accolade of the Wardens of the Cerulean Spire was both like and unlike all others. The oaths remained the same, and the voices rang across the plaza in familiar tones, but this was not the first time any of these courageous and long-recognised names had felt the kiss of a blade upon their shoulder, nor the first time they had risen to their feet a knight. Each one had, for reasons known only to them and the precious few closest to them, trekked the many miles from fallen Shallam and into the mountains' embrace, finding a new home in the Heart of the Vashnars. Never having the prized title stripped from them in the interim, this path and resulting ceremony was instead a dedication to their new life, and a promise to Cyrene and its people: a renewal, and a choice laden with personal trials and consequences in a world fraught with them since the War of the Flame.

Penned by My hand on the 14th of Glacian, in the year 629 AF.