In the plaza of the city.
Every inhabitants of the city encircled the center of the vicinity where the opening ceremony of Estocia is about to begin.
The festival of Beckoning...
It was an annual celebration of every swordsfolk in this city. It dates back from the ancient and long-forgotten races of humans that inhabited this very city. This race was gifted by the heroes of an object that was deemed and described as a sharp and long metal with a pointed tip inserted into a metallic handle. Situated in the center of the handle are objects that are called 'ethereal cores' that made each respective swords of the swordsfolk special and able to perform different tasks.
Each swords of the inhabitants were extremely powerful that it drove them into madness and their untimely demise…
So that what it was… at least the legends say…
Right now, we are going to celebrate that momentous and unearthly event that was cherished and passed down by the Estocian folk in this very moment.
A rain shower of unearthly and ethereal swords in the atmosphere.
In reminiscing that exact moment…
"Welcome, my dear swordsfolk! It is my biggest pleasure that we are indeed connected once again into this beautiful tradition of ours! I am exhilarated to see each and every one of you!"
The voice was strong and loud, exposing an attitude of pride while projecting the sense of strength alongside with it. His crimson-tinged cape was swirling alongside with the windy, yet warm morning. He is clad in a red armor fashioned out of a pyrorite embellished with gold lines in its sides and shades. Connecting his clothes with his cape, his family crest in the shade of crimson is gleaming in the sunshine in events like this.
He always starts his speeches in this manner. His usual demeanor gives warmth and confidence in the people… He is the head of the Guildia of the city, the leader of each battalion in the League, and the Chief of Estocia himself.
"My name is Rougestan "Cindra" Arsonstel and today, we are going to relish the long-passed legend by our ancestors! Amidst the bright and dark sky of atmosphere, the ancient race of this very city that we are in witnessed a spectacle that shaped this very place for a lot of years."
A long and loud cheer applauded in the fiery opening remarks of the chief.
"Without further ado, my friends and family, let us start… the Beckoning!!!"
Explosions of shouts and bellows erupted in the circle of the plaza that it started and encouraged the crowd even more on their noise.
As for us…
I was actually escorted in the plaza by the leaguesman of the city for the reason of our presence. To be specific, about the presence of the son of the Marquess, and the daughter of the Smith of Estocia; being needed at the ceremony. The chief of Estocia was already on the platform the moment we arrived so everything is well and done, I guess.
The only thing that is not well and done, is the person right beside me.
Right in my side, is the man that insulted me and my Pops so in return, he paid the ultimate price of being seen and sent into the event that he hated to attend to (at least, that is what I think.)
Malthur cannot even look me in the eye nor in my direction and stayed mum for the entirety of the moment of the chief's speech. It seems that he is still holding back his anger due to the fact that I was the one who exposed him in his little awkward-fit.
I could try talking to him and apologize but, I think he deserved that one so… there's that!
Suddenly, the chief spoke once again.
"May I ask the presence of old-man Anakin to produce his 'Gravis' for the rite?"
Wait a second… Gravis?
You mean the sword of the old-man Anakin?
A sword that can control the weight of a fellow sword depending on their internal structure? One that can manipulate its structure whether they can rest as a log in the ground or float like a feather in the atmosphere? That sword?!
I-Isn't this rather bad?
Well for one, I do not want to show my affinity to swords in front of the whole city just yet since I am still recovering on the events yesterday but regardless, I am having a terrible gut-feeling about this.
I can smell it. I can sense trouble when it is approaching. The events of yesterday made me skillful in feelings like this.
Concerning and debating whether I will stay standing like this in the plaza or going home, I steadily waited for a sign to consider while watching old-man Anakin climb atop the platform with small droplets of my sweat falling on my face.
While panicking about watching an old man in sheathing his own and personal sword, I saw a glint of light in my peripheral vision.
I called it. I see trouble when it approaches.
My terrible gut-feeling came into fruition…
In my left, where there lies the little scabbard that holds my stick, I noticed a faint glow of azure.
Sharp. Not this again. Just like what happened earlier before I went out of the house?!
My panicking intensified. The senses of vision that I had shifted hectically between the glowing stick and the approaching old-man in the center of the stage. I aggressively held my sword to prevent the others from seeing this unworldly glow of hue coming from it. I do not want to know already what is the cause of this glow like as it presents right now, all I want to do is to stop the others from noticing what I am hiding.
Old-man Anakin is at the stage….
Oh, sharps! Wait! Stop this! I am not ready to show this yet! What if someone finds out that I am bringing a weird sword?! Am I then subjected to a life-long torment and tribulation if that happened realistically?
Dreading my inevitable end, I tightened my grab into the stick that I was handling that resembles in a hug: closing my eyes, while yet again, sweating profusely.
I cannot even paint what kind of expression I was wearing…
Old-man Anakin unsheathed his Gravis on his personal scabbard…
The sound of my own heartbeat pounded the hardest the moment that the whole city did the same on their own respective swords. The sounds of the swords being freed from their scabbards made a metallic sound that reverberated and encircled in every angle of the plaza. Like I said, nothing will sound close on my heartbeat, though. I panicked even more when every person on my vicinity further exploded into cheers. I looked frantically on the old-man that was about to say something in order to start the ritual…
Old-man Anakin, you betrayed me… What have I done wrong to you?!
Am I not the one who restored that rust-infested sword of yours?! I am! I definitely am!!!
On my right, while now realizing I was making an extremely terrified expression, I saw that Malthur raised his own sword… and to my surprise…
It was a wooden sword. One that looks intendedly made for sparring events…
The moment I was about to react on the absurdity of his own sword, Old-man Anakin spoke…
"I beckon thee: Juno!!! LOPTUR!!!"
Oh no…
Every hands that was raised aloft the sky where they held their own swords were sent in the high altitude of the air. Each sword of men, women, children, and elderly, were swiftly traversing in the air with a slick sound from the metals.
As for me…
I intensified my grab to my sword and while closing my eyes in order to focus intently, I gave it my all on making it stay in the ground.
Not today! I refuse to show my sword that is glowing in the atmosphere! Definitely not!!!
Oh, right. Why is there a huge glow of azure this early in the mornin-
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!!
When I noticed that the cheers and applauses of all swordsmen flatly died, I opened my eyes only to meet the gazes of each people in front of me. They were all looking intently on my body where the source of the color azure can be seen.
I've done it.
Without me thinking, I instinctively covered my face due to sheer embarrassment with the use of my left hand; while the other right hand, still handling the stick in a tight grip…
The moment I did that-
WHOSSSH!!!
The sound my whole body being sent in an upper atmosphere where mostly of humans shouldn't be entering in, made its way and entered in my ears. I lost the balance of my grip since I let go of my left arm in my overall attempt to make the sword not float.
"WAHHHHHH!!!" I shouted and shrieked like a child.
Who wouldn't do that if their body just flew 200 feet upward in the air?!
Oh sharps, this is it- I am going to die. I will die in a pathetic and gruesome death!
I flailed my entire body when my movement went into a halt and stayed there for a moment.
The sword that I was grasping intently burned and glowed up in an intense azure. So intense that, in a moment, it colored the entire vicinity alike to its color.
Looking the rest in the land when I flew, they had a mix of reactions…
The serious reaction of Roy from the entirety of the rite, turned in an extreme shock…
Pops' eyes widened in exaggeration while opening his mouth that reads 'TORI'…
The chief of Estocia had his jaw lowered that it might reach his long beard…
Fae and his friends shouted in awe on what they are seeing…
And the rest of the inhabitants of the city having a mixture of expressions of what they had just saw.
While panicking for my life though… I heard someone's laugh erupting from the land…
"WAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" it was a brimful guffaw.
Even from high up here, I can hear that annoying laugh.
It was Malthur. His expression- completely different on his default one.
One that initially permeated into my senses that belonged into seriousness and timidness ever since we met, now showed with hilariousness without a shame and reservation.
This git! I'll totally get that stupid wooden-sword of yours and shove it on your mouth!!!
Ignoring that this guy was loudly laughing, everybody around the plaza stayed mum in awe and shock as their mouths in their faces are opened. Perhaps not because I was actually flung into the air in a high altitude? But perhaps because of another reason…
The azure glow of my sword aloft the sky intensified even further than before, as I am now finally calm and tried to survey everyone and their reactions.
The blue flare of the sword ignited intensely that, for a moment, it turned the entire atmosphere and ground similarly to its color.
This is bad! I do not know if there is a sword in an alternate reality that can do something like this!
While waiting and observing the ridiculous facial expressions of my swordsfolk, I heard a familiar voice:
"HO. I see. That's how it is. It seems that the Heroes made up their mind already."
At the edge of the entrance of the city, where it holds the secluded place- not open for everyone, the Grandseer of Estocia spoke up to the people.
The crowd made a commotion of noise. So loud and mixed that, it is as if, even the grounds are now talking.
"People of Estocia! My own swordsfolk and descendants of a race long forgotten to the sands of time! Behold, your trio of Myrmidons!!!"
Uncharacteristically, unlike her usual tone, the Granny shouted loudly that you can feel the joy in her words. One that sounds like she was holding back her excitement and sheer anticipation. It seems as though; she was counting a lot of ages in order to say those words…
I still have no idea of what is she talking about, nor what is she implying… All I saw was… in the crowd, where at this case, all of the swords must be aloft in the sky because of the Gravis sword by the old-man Anakin…
Two hands are still shot in the air, each holding their respective swords…
One is the sword called "Flamberge" that is named dumbly by the person I knew since childhood.
And the other sword fashioned from a wood from a person I just met and knew a moment ago…
Indeed… The ones who are being referred to as the Myrmidons of this age of Estocia are Flemeroy "Flinston" Arsonstel and Malthur Droit Aldendrite!
One is the son of the Chief of Estocia, the other one is the son of the Marquess of Silvos. Both are nobles since they came from rich and well-known family with their varying deeds and legacy.
Looking at the both of their eyes based on their expression, Roy was still looking shocked from some reason, while Malthur is still laughing, probably for that same reason as Roy's. Both of them are now the center of attraction of the crowd as they soon realized that their respective swords are still in their hands. The crowd roared further in cheer as they also noticed that the third person… was me.
A person who, for the very moment where she realized that a being like her would not co-exist with objects like these… A girl who made a vow to help her father and his people on aiding them on these objects…
She was chosen. A girl with a natural hatred for swords…
I too, became a Myrmidon- a carrier of the will of the Heroes. (At least, based on the words of Granny.)
From the past even in the stories of the swordsfolk, Myrmidons are titles bestowed for the persons met with a potential for greatness, selflessness, and virtue. They carry the messages and the will of the Heroes as they must perform deeds that will suffice on the commandments of them. They are the harbingers of their own principles, bringers of labors, and the protectors of land…
To realize the legend and to be awaken as one of them… this is… this is-
NONSENSICAL!!!