The day had arrived, and the Order of the Solar Blade moved with the precision of a machine: when one piece rose, another was pushed into the next gear.
The training courtyard was already boiling with activity when Aren finished tightening the straps of his equipment.
Nearby, Hal stretched as if he were about to run a marathon.
"I swear," he muttered, rubbing his legs. "If they make us repeat the circuit while carrying equipment today, I'm jumping into the river and letting the fish train me."
Bromir snorted, adjusting his beard with pride.
"The fish won't want to deal with your dramatics."
Lysander, on the other hand, looked strangely awake. His eyes shone with determination.
"Today I won't fall behind," he said to himself, as if stating an oath.
Eryndor watched them from the side with his usual impassive expression.
"If you're going to make promises out loud," he said dryly, "at least do it when it makes sense."
Hal stuck his tongue out at him.
"See? That's why nobody invites you to have fun."
Eryndor did not even look at him.
Aren was about to respond when a horn sounded from the main tower, repeating three times.
The instructors raised their voices.
"Formation!"
They lined up in rows, breathing in the cold vapor that still clung to the morning. Aveline was there, a few steps to Aren's right, back straight and eyes fixed forward.
Aren felt the urge to look at her more than he should, but he didn't.
An instructor walked in front of the lines with an open scroll.
"Today there will be a city deployment."
The words caused an immediate murmur.
Hal's eyes widened.
"In the city? Today?"
"Silence," the instructor cut in.
He continued reading names, assigning cordons, patrols, and routes.
When he called "Valenfort," Aren tensed. He knew everything was part of the preparations for the saint candidate's ceremony.
When Aveline's name was called, the tension turned into surprise.
Both stepped forward.
"You two will go to the outer cordon. Main temple route. Under the direct command of Sir Kaelreth."
Aren felt his stomach tighten.
'I should have known…'
The instructor kept calling names. Hal and Lysander were assigned to a nearby section, Bromir to another with a support group, and Eryndor… rear guard surveillance.
When it was over, Sir Kaelreth stepped forward.
His dark cuirass seemed to absorb the morning light. There was no arrogance in his posture, but there was a certainty that made even the most confident lower their voices.
'Those hours working in that armor were worth it,' Aren thought, with a hint of pride.
"Listen," Kaelreth said without preamble. "Today the city will receive visitors."
No one breathed too loudly.
"The public presentation of the Saint Candidate has been announced for this afternoon," he continued. "However, since yesterday our city has been receiving pilgrims, nobles of every rank, delegations, and opportunists."
Hal muttered under his breath, unable to help himself.
"They say the candidate is beautiful…"
Aren turned his head so fast that the halfling froze.
"What?" Hal whispered, confused by the tone.
Kaelreth's gaze cut through them, and the murmuring died.
"The Order maintains general security," he explained. "Cordons, crowd control, patrols, and rapid response."
He paused.
"The paladins will secure the immediate vicinity of the event. You will not approach the center of the procession unless I order it."
Aren swallowed.
Kaelreth took another step, as if he wanted everyone to hear this clearly.
"Do not get distracted watching the procession," he said. "Keep your attention on potential threats and disturbances."
He pointed toward the main street with a sharp gesture.
"Move out."
—
The city had never been this crowded.
White, gold, and silver banners hung from balconies and towers. The emblems of the churches fluttered alongside the banners of the principality, and among the crowd one could make out fine cloaks, discreet jewelry, and heavily armed escorts.
The streets smelled of incense and bread. Merchants shouted their offers, but their voices were tinged with reverence.
"Blessed amulets."
"Temple candles."
"Ribbons of light."
Just as Kaelreth had predicted, many nobles had arrived from other cities, foreign delegations, and envoys from distant kingdoms.
Aren was assigned to the inner security cordon, back straight and hand close to the hilt. Beside him stood Aveline, firm as a post, watching every movement of the crowd.
Farther away, Hal, Lysander, and Bromir guarded their assigned section.
"They say she's a young beauty," Hal said with a shameless grin. "A saint who looks like a goddess… what a waste."
"Is she really that beautiful?" Lysander asked with an exaggerated sigh.
The halfling nodded mischievously as some of the other aspirants leaned in to listen.
"I heard some priestesses say that—"
"I don't care if she's a goddess among mortals," the gnome said, shaking his head. "My heart already has its own goddess."
"Enough," Aren said, raising his voice slightly, a hardness cutting through them. "I can hear your nonsense from here."
Hal arched an eyebrow.
"What? We're just talking about the rumors."
"We're in the middle of an important event for the kingdom," Aren replied sharply. "Could you keep your composure?"
"Well, well…," Hal smiled. "Looks like our model squire got moral all of a sudden."
Lysander frowned.
"Relax, Aren. We don't even know her."
Aren didn't answer, but something tightened in his chest. He didn't know why those words bothered him so much. But "candidate," "saint," "churches"… all of it tugged at a thread buried deep in his memory, and that unsettled him.
Aveline shook her head.
"You'd better keep your composure, or Sir Kaelreth will send you to clean latrines," she said reproachfully.
However, her gaze lingered on Aren, noticing how those words had affected him.
A roll of drums pulled everyone back to reality.
The bells began to ring, soft at first, then deep.
The procession was advancing, drawing closer and closer to them.
Sir Kaelreth arrived shortly before.
"Outer cordon, section ten. Your moment has arrived," he ordered. "Maintain distance. Don't respond to provocations, and do not move without a signal."
Aren and Aveline stood shoulder to shoulder.
The crowd began to gather.
And the air changed.
Voices lowered.
Laughter died away.
The procession had reached them.