"Abel, of the house of Arawn, do you swear to devote all your strength, and all your will, to the cause of the Chevaliers?" The Grandmaster's booming voice filled the chamber.
The Grandmaster was a large, elderly man, garbed in the traditional white cloak with a sash of gold, and his words were like the hammer of a blacksmith, crashing down on Abel with a solemn strength.
"Always," Able swore.
In his mind, he couldn't help but think there was little else to do. For years, he's dedicated himself to this path. He couldn't turn back now. He didn't want to.
"Do you swear to serve and protect all innocents who cross your path?"
Abel could feel the stoic gazes of the Masters in the room upon him. He could feel the coldness of the stone floor beneath pervading through his body as he knelt before the Grandmaster.
"I do," he swore.
"Do you swear to keep honor, truth, and justice in your heart for as long as you wear your armor?"
"I swear," he said as he gripped the very armor that covered his heart. The touch of the cold metal cuirass had never failed to give him confidence before, and it didn't now, even as he felt the flush of excitement pulse under his skin as his heart beat faster and faster.
"Do you swear to bear your sword against all the evil that plagues this world?"
Witches, monsters, demons, and glory. His answer traveled through his lips without thought.
"For as long as I live."
"Do you swear that your shield won't fall unless you fall with it?"
Abel didn't hesitate for a second. Flee was a word he didn't care to know.
"So I pledge."
"Then may the light of the Divines enter your soul and free your soul from its earthly burdens."
Throughout the chamber, all in attendance could hear as the Grandmaster unsheathed his sword. The Light of the Heavens was its name, said to be granted to the first Chevalier who vanquished the monsters of his time. It was a glimmering shard of metal, with a shade of gold so bright that it made the sun envy, and with edges so sharp the wind left it untouched. The head of the Chevaliers set the legendary sword harmlessly on the shoulders of Abel. First the left, then the right.
"Rise, Abel, and join your brothers as their fellow Chevalier," the Grandmaster shouted as he sheathed the sword and threw his arms around Abel, picking him up. When he released the younger man, the blue cloak of the Apprentice he wore during the ceremony fell, discarded to the floor. It was five years of wearing that, and he couldn't help the slight twinge of loss in his heart.
But, as the Masters gathered around him, Peter, the Master who taught him, wrapped him in a new one. Crimson red, it was the cloak of a Chevalier.
***
Peter looked at Abel with no small amount of pride. It didn't seem so long ago when the young man was still wearing the tan cloak of an Initiate and couldn't even fit into plate armor, but he has come so far from the child he once was.
He clapped the man he thought of as a son, now a brother, on the shoulder, just as all the Masters have, wishing him success as a Chevalier, with all the dangers that entails. Then, he pulled him aside, out of the chamber, and onto the walls of Fort Chevalier, the home to the order. From this point, they could see all that was in the capital city of the kingdom of Maslon as the sun was doing its last cycle. Here they stopped.
"When I had earned my crimson cloak, I was terrified." Peter said as he looked out onto the city, growing darker by the minute. "No longer was I an Apprentice with my Master beside me. No longer was he there, ready to rescue me from any danger. There was no more training to be done, and I knew, in my heart, that I wasn't ready."
"You weren't?" Abel asked.
Peter knew why. Abel viewed Peter the way that Peter viewed his own master. With a tinted lens. He supposed the young man would learn quickly enough of how the world really looked. The responsibilities of a Chevalier were much more different from an Apprentice.
"Yes, he did. He listened to my concerns, my fears, and he brought me out here, to this spot. He handed me a bottle of some random alcohol he never told me the name of, and told me to drink it until it ran dry. Until then, he never let me have a sip of the stuff. Of course, I asked him why I could have it now, and he told me that 'he wasn't my master now, he was my brother'. There was faith in him when he said that. Not just a faith in the Divines, but faith in me. That night, I drank so much I accused one of the Masters of being a Witch. I had to do the chores of the Initiates for the month, but I wore the crimson cloak the next day, and I wear the white cloak of the Masters now. You are my brother now Abel, and my shield still lies with you, just as yours lies with me. Now drink up. I want to be able to see the bottom." Peter said, fishing a bottle out of his cloak.
This night was going to be so much fun for him.