Whispers circulated among the knight candidates in their wards, alleging that Elphered, who had excelled in training, had been paired with Derek to keep an eye on him. The young noble, who had floundered in the physical exams, was believed to have been assigned a patrol duty purely due to his family's vast wealth.
Ismeth's story was straightforward: he hailed from a non-noble background and had a penchant for rebellion. His graduation from basic training was considered miraculous, a testament to his unyielding and combative nature.
In contrast, Brad's arrival in the final three months of the grueling year-and-a-half training had a different air about it. He remained a profound enigma to the others, a puzzle waiting to be unraveled—if only they had the courage to delve deeper. The question loomed before them: Was the effort to uncover his secrets truly worth it?
As the night wore on, the alcohol flowing through their veins potentiated, loosening their tongues, and leading the knight candidates, unused to relaxed socializing, into personal territory.
Derek prodded Brad, "What made you leave the Templars, Brad? You served with them for almost three years, right?"
"Two years," Brad corrected, inhaling deeply as he prepared to delve into his past.
Ismeth interjected, sensing Brad's discomfort, "Ah, the Templars. Everyone knows it's the most tedious job in the realm."
Elphered, a ninth-generation knight, interceded, "We all pledge our final oaths to the Great Orion, God of Enlightenment, to become knights in his name. And, for the kingdom, we swear loyalty to the Honorable High Commander, our king Illuen D'Harven. It's merely a procedural modification," he corrected Ismeth's inaccuracies.
"Ah, Elphered, the connoisseur of history. Ever since the foundation of the United Kingdom of Illuthia, the esteemed orders of knighthood have maintained a stringent division into three distinct factions: the Noble Bloods, the Devoted Disciples, and us, the Valiant Patriots," Ismeth retorted.
"Ismeth, I shall not indulge in fruitless debates merely for your amusement. The accurate appellations are indeed the Royal Knights, the Orion Knights, and the Illuen Knights. However, it is crucial to note that the aspirants of the revered Templar Order are meticulously chosen from the finest orders across the Illuthar Continent, a select group of the top one hundred candidates. They endure a grueling three-year crucible of training, ascending to become the epitome of distinction among their peers," Elphered calmly elucidated, effortlessly reciting the knowledge gleaned from chronicles.
"So, it appears our man Brad didn't make the cut. It's not all that bad, is it?" Derek jested, needling Brad.
"I resigned and left the Templar Order of my own accord," Brad replied firmly, giving Derek a steely glare.
"Why did you abandon such a distinguished position?" Elphered asked solemnly.
"Good salary too, I hear," Ismeth interjected, unable to resist.
"It wasn't the right path for me," Brad replied simply.
None at the table could contend that Brad had been ousted for his shortcomings in physical training. Over the past three moons, they had all witnessed Brad's valiant response to his superiors on the training grounds, as they sought to crush and cow him. He stood tall like a titan, unyielding to their pressure. Any test of knighthood posed little challenge to him. Yet, they all knew that the Templars were culled from among the candidates possessing not only brawn but also the potential for latent divine power.
Derek, with envy tinging his tone, questioned Brad, "Do you not aspire to tread the path of Supreme Orion, the God of Light?" Persisting, he prodded Brad, perhaps emboldened by the wine he had imbibed.
"Your tongue spews utter nonsense, Derek, spawn of Derek. We are all trudging the same path for the same end," Ismeth interjected.
With a sigh, Derek rose from his seat. "I am one of the Deryl scions! You, Ismeth, are but a commoner. Such insolence shall not go unpunished."
Ismeth, seemingly surrendering mockingly, spread his hands wide and swung them from side to side. "I would surrender to you, Derek, but the Knightly rules dictate that such a circumstance warrants a duel," he chuckled.
"We shall settle our differences, Ismeth," Derek retorted with anger, jabbing a finger in his direction.
"At any hour and any place, you desire, Derek. For we are both on the same path," Ismeth replied nonchalantly, stretching lazily in his chair.
Growing increasingly irritated, Derek, realizing he wouldn't receive the support he sought from Elphered, reluctantly took his seat once more.
"Ismeth of the nomads," Derek snarled, his lip curling in contempt. "Today, I care not for your existence. But mark my words, when I ascend to captaincy, and you're nothing but a lowly sergeant, we shall meet again."
Ismeth merely chuckled, undeterred by Derek's threats. Unwavering and impervious, it was a trait that had served him well.
"Let Brad, burdened with the misfortune of being paired with thee, ponder his fate from this point onward. After all, those who refuse to be bound by allegiance share a similar destiny," Derek added with a disdainful snort.
Throughout the night, leading up to this incident, there had been other taunts exchanged, but this particular one was too much personal for Brad to bear. Up until that moment, he had gritted his teeth and strived to remain as composed as possible. However, he reached his breaking point and finally exploded.
"What ails you, Derek?" Brad demanded, his voice low and venomous, his eyes narrowing sharply.
"If you deem your noble lineage grants you superiority, you are sorely mistaken. We all begin as knighthood candidates, starting from the very bottom. Prove your worth and earn your rank. Only then may you flaunt your arrogance to whomever you please. Until then, get the hell out of my sight!" Brad thundered, slamming his fist onto the table with a deafening boom.
Everyone fell silent, and even the other guests of the inn turned their attention to the table. Derek turned red as a beet, feeling small and insignificant in Brad's towering wrath. He suppressed his curses, succumbing to tears like a petulant child. Elphered, ever composed and rational, attempted to soothe Derek, but his efforts proved futile. Turning his attention to Brad, Elphered sought to mediate and bring about peace between the two.
However, Brad remained resolute. "Elphered, remove your companion from my presence," He reiterated his decision, refusing to engage in further conversation.
With Derek and Elphered departing without a word, Brad gulped down a mouthful of wine, cursing himself for succumbing to his wrath so easily. It was a fleeting moment of fury fueled by his own pride.
The night of revelry for the four knight candidates abruptly came to an end, as their camaraderie was fractured by this altercation.
Once again, Derek found himself diminished in the presence of Brad's formidable figure. For the last three months, Derek experienced a conflicting mix of terror and admiration, simultaneously trembling in fear of Brad's unyielding presence while also being unable to despise him, for there was something captivating about his essence that Derek couldn't quite define. And the weight of Derek's noble lineage seemed inconsequential when confronted with Brad's raw power and indomitable spirit.
Lost in the depths of his ruminations, Derek contemplated, "How can a single man emanate such an overwhelming aura of intimidation? Is it the piercing intensity of his gaze, the thunderous resonance of his voice, or the imposing stature that commands respect?"
The truth about Brad remained an enigma to all, as an undeniable primal force lay dormant beneath his outward demeanor, patiently awaiting to be unleashed.
"Come now, Brad. Pay them no heed. They are mere gnats buzzing in our ears," Ismeth consoled, attempting to soothe his comrade's frayed nerves.
"We shall see what tomorrow brings, Ismeth. This altercation may have dire consequences," Brad replied, his tone apprehensive and guarded.
"What could happen? A mere scuffle won't lead to our expulsion. At worst, we may face disciplinary action. It won't unseat us from our steeds," Ismeth jested, half-serious.
Brad scowled at his partner's nonchalance, his expression darkening. "You underestimate the gravity of our situation, Ismeth. Life isn't kind to us, and I can't always shield you. I have no noble lineage to protect me."
"Is that so?" Ismeth arched an eyebrow skeptically, aware of the rumors that Brad was being closely monitored by high-ranking officials.
However, Ismeth had witnessed firsthand the grueling training Brad had endured over the past three months, with their drill sergeant showing no mercy. Brad had faced it all with tenacity and an unyielding spirit, even when no one had shown him any sympathy.
Brad fixed his penetrating gaze on Ismeth, his voice steady and controlled. "Didn't we crawl through the same mud together, Ismeth?"
The phrase held great significance for any knight, but for Ismeth, it carried even greater weight. Ismeth had caused Brad trouble and inflicted disciplinary actions that had led to Brad being punished. Despite it all, Brad had never complained and had always protected Ismeth. It wasn't just Ismeth that Brad had taken under his wing, but his duty to protect all those under his charge. In doing so, Brad had pulled Ismeth back from the brink of giving up and ignited a fierce determination in him to succeed in their candidacy exams. Ismeth knew he owed Brad an immeasurable debt and was willing to repay it by safeguarding his companion at all costs, even if it meant sacrificing his own life.
* * *
On the next day as the two knight candidates made their way to the Ninth Bridge Post for their morning dispatch, Brad's worst fear came to fruition.
"Curse our luck!" Ismeth exclaimed in frustration.
"This is no mere coincidence, Ismeth," Brad replied sternly.
"Aye, we're damned, Brad. There's no other explanation for being assigned to the wretched Southern Outpost Area," Ismeth lamented.
"Are you so naive, Ismeth? Derek had a hand in this," Brad whispered, scanning their surroundings. If he caught sight of the spoiled noble anywhere nearby, he might have beaten him to a pulp.
"Truly? Then Derek will pay," Ismeth vowed in a spiteful voice, surprising Brad.
Brad let out a bitter laugh, knowing his partner's forgetfulness in such matters. But he wouldn't forget, and he'd make sure Derek paid for his treachery.
In the distance, Derek sneered as he watched them, safe in his own company. The contemptuous noble's scheming was not lost on Brad, who could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
* * *
Anyone with the desire to join the esteemed knighthood organization could, in theory, become a knight by completing training under certain conditions. After all, why not? The Commander-in-Chief, Illuen D'Harven, had paved the way for such opportunity. However, in practice, placing an institution with centuries of tradition among families of confirmed nobility under a single authority was no easy feat. Although every family with a history in the Illuthar Continent had sworn allegiance directly to King Illuen D'Harven, many were unwilling to abandon their accustomed order. They continued to object, sometimes openly, sometimes covertly, to the reforms introduced by the king and the Committee of the Nine over the past three years.
There were three main institutions that carried the knighthood title:
Firstly, the Royal Knights, or Knights of the Stronghold; an institution of noble lineage and age-old prestige, had been marginalized from the main army ever since the United Kingdom of Illuthia was formed. They were only deployed in their cities and served as a support force for the main army. Due to tax and financial problems, the Royal knighthood was an organization that was gradually falling into disrepute.
Secondly, the Orion Knights, also known as Knights of the Templar; were a select few who could pass the grueling Test of Holy Light using their divine magic power. This strict institution, ruled by the Temple of Orion, had no tolerance for favoritism, and active numbers were limited to less than a hundred.
Lastly, the Illuen Knights, or Knights of the Homeland; formed the basis of the entire army and provided equal opportunities in theory. However, the possibility of a commoner rising to become a White Knight, a high-ranking officer, was challenging in practice. Most candidates were eliminated during the candidacy period, which spanned a total of three years, one and a half years of training, and one and a half years of fieldwork, and could have been a sergeant at best.
Having experienced both the Knights Templar and Illuen Knights training troops, Brad Silverhilt had learned all these definitions firsthand.