It was the day after the duels. Ronzel's body felt battered and bruised, and that comforted him. He had fought with all his might, and now he stood outside the Emperor's council chamber waiting to be called inside.
He sat in one of the soft chairs placed outside the great doors leading into the chambers.
With him was Vaelan, a second-rank juggernaut, or Hailer. The man was in his prime, with slicked-back blonde hair, his body tall and strong like all juggernauts.
They both wore casual clothes given to the juggernauts when they were out of their plates, so they could still be recognized as the empire's protectors.
Though they were always encouraged to wear their plates as often as possible, since they never knew when or where the Cloudlings would strike.
The doors to the chambers creaked open just enough for a man to step through. From his attire, Ronzel guessed he was the Emperor's butler.
"His majesty will see you now."
---
Vaelan waited outside now that his duties were over, and Ronzel entered ahead. A Rainer would never be allowed to walk through the palace without an escort of a higher rank, hence why Vaelan had brought him there.
Once inside, Ronzel kept his head down, his eyes glued to the floor. After a few steps, he dropped to one knee and placed his fist on his heart.
"Here to serve, Your Greatness!"
His head raised enough to see the room, and it was a spectacle. The carpet was blood red, embroidered in gold. Paintings by the finest artists of the empire hung on the walls, displaying historical events and portraits of the emperor, and the ones before him.
A great window sat behind a desk, offering a view of a large part of the capital city below, it's buildings grand and streets wide though empty.
Most importantly, at the desk sat Erlanel, the Third Emperor of Empril. A white crown rested on his head, crafted from cloudsteel, and beneath it, long black hair hung straight down past his shoulders.
Erlanel's face was youthful; the man was still in his twenties, barely older than Ronzel. He wore a black robe, embroidered in gold, with his royal wear beneath. A faint smile graced his lips as he addressed the Rainer.
"It is an honour to have you serve, Rainer. You may stand," he said, his voice confident and friendly.
Ronzel had never met the Emperor face to face—hardly anybody had—but from what he had heard, which was very little, Erlanel was a good man.
He had come today to collect his first set of armour, as tradition dictated, but what he had looked forward to most was the opportunity to meet the man he planned to swear fealty to, face to face.
Regardless of the man's character, Ronzel would have become a juggernaut, but it helped when you knew the nature of your ruler.
The Rainer stood tall and clasped his hands behind his back.
"I have heard a lot about you, whispers that you should make you proud. About your dedication to your duties at camp, and your remarkable strength during the duels."
This shocked Ronzel, and it must have shown on his face because Erlanel pointed it out.
"Are you really surprised that I keep tabs on the rookies and Rainers?" He laughed, throwing his head back. "I spend all my days in the palace. The least I can do is stay well informed." He gestured toward his butler, who stood a few paces away by the desk.
"Wayhil helps me with that." Ronzel was taken aback by the casual tone the Emperor used when speaking to him. It was not how he had imagined their first conversation going.
"You know, Rainer Ronzel," Erlanel said, rising from his seat and turning to look out the great window behind him, "if it were up to me, I would become a juggernaut like you. I would defend my empire with my own two hands, as did the second Emperor, Vale." A sadness crept into the Emperor's voice at the mentioning of the name.
"Excuse me if I speak out of line, Your Greatness, but is it not up to you?" Ronzel asked, not expecting an answer.
"Well, it is. If I wished, I could enter myself into the next rookie camp, or give myself the rank of Cloudbreaker in an instant. But that would break the spoken rules of those who came before me—that the royal bloodline must be protected at all costs, never to come face to face with a Cloudling. Therefore, I am advised to stay in the palace, much like we advise the city's residents to stay in their homes whenever possible."
The king returned to his seat and sipped from a glass of red liquid on the desk, most likely a wine expensive enough that only he could afford. "Well then, you did not come here to receive an earful from your Emperor, though it was nice to talk to someone around my own age. Let us bring you your plates."
---
On cue, the doors were opened wide by Wayhil, and a small man rolled in a mobile armour stand.
He brought it over until it stood beside the desk in front of Ronzel. The stand held a glorious white chunk of cloudsteel, moulded to fit Ronzel's six-foot-four, one-hundred-and-twenty-kilogram frame.
The edges of the armour were stained gold, giving the suit a royal appearance, and the empire's sigil on its chest added to the grandeur.
The plates were flat in some places and more angular in others. The shoulders, torso, arms, and legs were broad, making the suit perhaps three times as wide as its wearer.
Ronzel walked over and placed his hand on the suit, feeling the cold cloudsteel send a shiver through his bones.
I am officially a juggernaut, he thought to himself. Finally.
The short man who had wheeled the stand inside spoke now as he stood next to it, the armour dwarfing him.
"Remember, the juggernaut plates are nothing like the steel ones you wore in camp, or in your initiation duels. They are heavier and slower, but once you put them on, their power will surge through every fibre of your being. We have weaponized our enemies, creating the greatest gear mankind has ever known."
The man spun the stand around, revealing a tall white sword clipped onto the back of the plates, which Ronzel estimated to be six feet in length.
On the blade, words were inscribed in gold: Sword of Ronzel in a cursive font.
The edges were completely blunt, as sharpness wasn't needed when fighting beings with metal for skin, and the tip was flat rather than pointed, making the blade rectangular in shape.
"Your Cloudsword is much heavier than the swords you're used to as well. As you know, cloudsteel is dense. It will take some time before you can swing it with ease. It goes without saying but you cannot and should not attempt to engage a cloudling without it, as victory would be impossible."
Ronzel felt joy spread through his body like never before, welling up with pride—not for himself, but for the cause he would fight for.
For the fact that he had been bestowed with gifts that would allow him to eradicate the threats the cloudlings posed to the Empire and it's people.
Part of him felt sorrow for Erlanel, forced to cower in the palace despite his desire to do more. Silently, Ronzel swore to protect enough people to satisfy both himself and the Emperor.
He dropped to one knee again, facing the seated Erlanel, and thumped his fist hard against his chest.
"Once again, it is an honour, Rainer. Perhaps if you rise through the ranks and make a name for yourself, we can talk more. I would like to hear your story—why you fight so vehemently."
My story. It was one he never hoped to tell again, but if the Emperor wished to hear it, Ronzel would make sure there was more to tell than just the wrongful murder of his loved ones.
With that, butler Wayhil escorted him outside, where he was reunited with Vaelan. The man clapped him on the shoulder, a sign of newfound respect.
"Officially one of us now," the Hailer said, and they made their way out of the palace.