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A Glinting Sword | The Knight Paramount

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A GLINTING SWORD

 

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“It is the Knight who heralds the will of the Crown. It is the Knight who assumes the mantle of paragon seeking neither glory nor gain. It is the Knight who aspires to embody the perfection of Godan’s creation.”

KING SIGISMUND III ‘THE GOLDEN’, 398 E.S.

 


 

THE KING WAS LEADING THE CHARGE OF COUNCILORS, NOBLES, COMMONERS; MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN. Everyone high and low, including even visitors from abroad. They marched with him at the head to the banks of the River Lahy, just beyond the city limits where the cold winds of the Ailmere blew downstream and met the warmer breeze of the south. Here, with the walls of the Royal City across the water still in view and with the woods to their back, was where Karl had decided a fitting spot for the ceremony would be. Here, where the river surged and the rapids ended, lived a swirling channel that never ceased churning up blocks of melting ice. He stepped onto the dock with a creak. Despite its foreboding and violent appearance, Karl thought of the place fondly. Afterall it was the first place outside of the city walls he’d ever been. Led astray by a boy he had been friends with for all of a day, but one now whose name he couldn’t bring to mind. This was where the two of them had tossed stones and took great delight in watching them flow round and round until they were sucked down to the depths of the Lahy.

 

The King’s gaze was settled on that twisting torrent now after having sent a pebble from the dock’s end into it. He regarded it with decidedly less enjoyment this time as it was whisked away down the basin. Karl’s attention was snatched away when Andrei Kortrevich, both his friend and the prospective Paramount similar in age to himself, flung the tent flap wide and stepped through into the bracing night air. He’d stripped off his armour and came humbly in his lightest clothing. Ah yes, the next stone to be tossed thought Karl, his concern already started to turn his stomach when Andrei joined him on the end of the jetty. He instructed the knight to take a knee. 

 

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“I have deemed you worthy of undertaking our hallowed rite and have faith that you will succeed where others in the past have not. Should you wish to serve as the Knight Paramount of Hanseti-Ruska you must complete this task I have laid before you without complaint and without aid. You alone must prove your worth to all us present and to the Skies above.”

 

The murmurs had begun already. He will manage it, he’s been through much worse," one said. Another incredulously added “But he’ll bloody well drown!?” The comments continued but Karl proceeded nonetheless.

 

“The Drowning of the Blades will test you both mentally and physically. It is a task you may not return from. Do you understand?”

 

“Ea understand wholeheartedly, Vyr Majesty. Yam willing to take that risk.” Andrei’s answer was swift and confident. Too confident chided Karl in his mind. 

 

He reached down to his sword and slid it free from the ornate scabbard. It was a beautiful thing, even to Karl who ordinarily had little appreciation for weaponry. The blade itself almost shone when the light caught. The grip was an octagon made of black and white pearlescent panels set below the gilded crossguard shaped to resemble the Teutonic cross. A masterwork of forging and bladesmithing.

 

Karl hurled it into the middle of the whirlpool where it disappeared near instantly beneath the ice and rapids.

 

“Your King has lost the Sword of Blessed Gaius Marius, the weapon upon which every Marian Oath is sworn.” Karl addressed Andrei with the most neutral of expressions as if he had not just launched one of the most famed weapons in the world to the depths of a freezing river. “No new knights may be inducted into the Retinue until it is retrieved. You must return it to my hand, Ser Andrei Kortrevich, or die trying.”

 

The Kortrevich, who had been briefed before on the details of this ceremony, knew to waste no time. He lurched to his feet and took a running start off the pier. He dove straight into the centre of the vortex. Andrei disappeared from view just as the sword and stones before him had; only it was never expected they would appear back on their own. Andrei would have to. Even if only to prove some of those naysayers on the bank wrong about him being too young or unworthy of the honour. 

 

“You will pledge your life and honour to the line of Barbov and all the Edlervik. You shall always heed the word of the King of Crows and his counsel, even if it shall surely mean your end.” Karl began on the altered oath every knight swears. 

 

Countess Emma, Andrei’s mother, was already looking green about the gills with worry. He will be well and emerge soon, I'm sure Andrei’s friend and King was confident.

 

“You shall never cower from the enemies of your King, lest you fall on your sword. You shall cover yourself in glory, that you might stand among the heroes of our people, and be worthy of their admiration.”

 

Newcomers arrived and the rumblings continued. “What’re we staring at. . .?” one such person asked with a confused frown. “We are waiting to see if our prospective Knight Paramount drowns or not.” came his cousin’s voice. Some who were sure of the knight’s success at the start were now less so and giving in to their worries, faces etched with it. He will be well and emerge soon I’m sure Karl’s resolve was weakening some. He knitted his brows and continued.

 

“You shall take charge of every page, squire and knight in this hallowed realm and are bid to do so as the Knight Paramount. Rise now, the Knight Paramount of the Marian Retinue, from this day until your oath's end.”

 

“Be quiet!” hissed Andrei’s mother to some of the more callous whispers pertaining to the knight’s fate. “Have faith. He will return shortly.” responded Prince Aleksandr. Unlike his royal cousin, Karl’s faith was wavering but hopelessness tempts fate to stay its course. He will be well and emerge soon I’m sure Karl reminded himself. His eyes bore at the spot where Andrei had disappeared many moments ago. Too long ago.

 

“There he is!” cried a noble lord who pointed at the water's surface near the dock.

 

From the pitch black depths a hand breached through and gripped tight in a pale quaking hand was the Sword of Gaius Marius. The candle light from the embankment caught the metal of the blade and the drops of water that slipped down its length. It glinted in the light like something otherworldly. Something that breathed hope back into the crowd and settled their troubles. Thank the Skies and all their Blessed Karl exhaled a subtle sigh of relief. Before long, the rest of Andrei’s shape appeared and made for the pier. He hooked the sword’s guard on a plank and heaved himself up onto the jetty with it as purchase. The knight, fortunate to be alive, struggled to his feet. He was soaked to the bone and shivered from the chill, teeth chattering. Despite his suffering, Andrei held out the sword shakily towards his King and once Karl had taken it he knelt before him.

 

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“Ser Andrei Kortrevich, having proven yourself this day worthy of holding the title of many a famed knight and displaying valour beyond measure. . .” Karl lowered the sword's blade first onto Andrei’s right shoulder “are hereby, by the prerogative of the Crown of Hanseti-Ruska and by the demands of fate,” Karl tapped Andrei upon the left shoulder with the flat of the sword “entrusted to wield the Steel Bulava in my name as Knight Paramount of Hanseti-Ruska!” 

 

The Sword of Gaius Marius was once more returned to its usual spot, rammed back with a snap of the hilt on the scabbard. Karl bid Andrei to rise with a graceful motion of his hand up and he did just that much to the cheers of the crowd. Chief among them Andrei’s mother who wept tears of joy and likely relief at finding her son topside once more with the added caveat of still breathing. Some of the members of the Marian Retinue took to a display of support by taking their swords still in their scabbard and drumming them on the sides of the path. One, misunderstanding or caught up in the revelry of it all, tossed his sword into the river and got an earful for it from another attendee. 

 

Frankly, Karl was relieved and, despite his station and role in the ceremony, let the guise of formality and etiquette slip for the moment to join in on the congratulations. He clapped his friend on the back and let a delighted, quiet laugh blow out his nose before he sent him along to embrace his mother who itched at the seams to hug her son and make him real once more. As she swaddled him in a cloak and preened over him like a mother bird with her chick they left the dock and made for the path back to the city. Karl waited a moment longer and cast a look over the swirling water that held many of his fondest memories. Now it holds one fond memory more.

 

 “What say we go back to the city and let the Knight Paramount get some heat back in his bones, huh?” recommended Karl with a clap of his hands after he tore his gaze from the river. He joined his people shoulder to shoulder on the march back. 

 

 

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APPOINTMENT OF 

THE KNIGHT PARAMOUNT

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KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM

Issued by

THE CROWN

On this 10th of Vzmey ag Hyff of 565 E.S.

 

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VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG EDLERVIK,

We, the Crown, wish to express our esteemed thanks to Ser Belisar who served us faithfully as our Knight Paramount and as a regent on the regency council. Having returned from a far flung voyage, he has informed us of his intention to retire citing old age as the reasoning. We have accepted and freed him of his oaths. As a show of our admiration for the work and the sword skill of the knight, we allow for him to retain the title Ser and to still represent the Crown in military matters against our enemies as a capable commander of soldiers.

As is the prerogative of the Crown, we did order Ser Andrei to undergo the ceremony known as the Drowning of the Blades, a time honoured tradition amongst the Haeseni to allow fate’s hand to display if they also believe the knight worthy of ascension. We are glad to have witnessed firsthand the knight rise from the waves with sword in hand. Thus, we do hereby appoint Ser Andrei Kortrevich @Gandhi to the position of Knight Paramount on account of his displayed bravery, fortune and honour. King Karl IV entrusts Ser Andrei with the Steel Bulava as Knight Paramount of Hanseti-Ruska to be wielded in his name.

Let this appointment be recorded in the annals of our history, and let all subjects acknowledge and respect the authority of the appointee and their office. Ser Andrei has held the position since 564 E.S. despite this writ being published officially in 565 E.S. 

We thank Ser Belisar var Ruthern for their years of leal service and pray they have a peaceful retirement.

╠══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╣

 

IV JOVEO MAAN,

HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Karl IV, by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Hochmeister of the Marian Retinue, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Slesvik, Solvesborg, and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia, Margrave of Rothswald, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Markev, Siegrad, Torun, Toruv, and Valdev, Baron of Buck, Esenstadt, Kralta, Krepost, and Rytsburg, Lord of the Westfolk, Protector and Lord of the Highlanders, etcetera.


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The Lady Palatine supported her nephew's latest appointment, having grown to hold a great and growing respect for that newly-named Ser Andrei. Of course, perhaps it was to his benefit that she already held his younger sister in high esteem as well and thus was inclined to him. The dour Princess hoped he would prove to be worthy of such a meteoric rise.

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A father looked fondly at that room his son has stayed in his entire life. Lavish silken sheets, childhood belongings, and a hall lit with candles every day. The work he and his family truly did pay off, and now his son will inherit their shared legacy. "Where did the time go?" he thought to himself as he looked into the mirror. His tar-like hair had been lightened through decades of personal stress and physical ailments. Despite his own shortcomings in the latter half of his life, one thing a father could always be proud of is his children.

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The air was thick with tension, the gentle ripple of the River Lahy a cruel contrast to Emma’s pounding heart. She stood at the water’s edge, her hands clutching the silk of her skirts, twisting it between trembling fingers. The Drowning of the Blades had just begun, and though her son Andrei stood strong as he waded into the icy waters, she could see the faintest quiver in his breath.

 

As she watched him, her vision blurred – not from the river’s mist, but from memories that rose like phantoms. Andrei as a babe, wrapped tightly in soft linen, his tiny fingers grasping hers with surprising strength. His laughter echoed in her ears, the sound carrying her to another time when he’d dashed through the golden wheat fields surrounding Jerovitz. He had stumbled then, his child’s sword clutched too tightly in his small hands, but he’d risen with a fierce grin, determined to master it, even then.

 

Her heart swelled with pride at the man he had become, yet fear coiled like a serpent in her chest. The river was merciless, and the trial demanded every ounce of strength he possessed. What if it asked for more than he could give? What if this was the moment fate decided to claim him, leaving her with nothing but the memories that now assaulted her? 

 

━━━━━━━━━·𖥸·━━━━━━━━━

 

"Be quiet," she'd hiss to the judging bystanders, her voice sharp as the edge of a honed blade. Emma's glare cut through the crowd gathered along the riverbank, silencing their murmurs and whispers. Did they not understand the weight of this moment? Did they not see that this was her son – her Andrei – facing a trial that demanded not just his strength but his very spirit?

 

Her fingers dug into her palms, the pain grounding her as the spectators dared another round of muttered commentary. The pressure to maintain her composure as Countess warred with the raw vulnerability of her own motherhood. To them, this was a spectacle, a rite of passage for a future Knight Paramount. To her, it was her son, the boy she'd held through countless sleepless nights, now daring the river’s depths to prove his worth.

 

It was only when Andrei broke the surface again, gasping and victorious, that Emma’s knees nearly gave way beneath her. Tears trickled down her cheeks; an amalgamation of relief and pride as she watched him wade back to shore, his steps steady, his resolve unbroken.

 

He was no longer the boy who ran through the wheat fields or swung his toy sword. He was her son and heir, Andrei Otto Kortrevich, the Knight Paramount of Hanseti-Ruska.

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Primrose much to her dismay, would not be there to support her brother in person, crouched within one of the few logging clearings beside the southern side of Lake Georg, where it's glacial waters from the tops of The Karenina's, would start their journey down the river Lahy towards the ocean. She idly tended to newly planted saplings of Ruskan Maples. Though as Andrei dove within the vortex, the young Rose would freeze. A sibling's bond is a powerful connection, but for the triplets of Kortrevich it was an unbreakable bond of love and support. She one of the two horns, that made up the head of the future bull to lead family felt a cold shiver as she felt a surge of cold winds coming from Ailmere upon her, it'd catch her surprise as she'd fall back into the snow, a cold shiver running down her form. "Dri . . . ?" She would murmur out meekly as he descended in search of the sword. "Eam sorry, ea should've been there for vy." She'd state out weakly, timidly shaking in the cold, before soon enough the surge would cease, as warmth would return to her as she'd sit up once again. A faint grin gracing her lips than. "Though, it seems a bull does niet always need it's herd, to face the unknown." She'd chirp out proudly, returning to her task with a newly reinvigorated spirit.

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Andrei had always wanted to be a knight. From when he was old enough to talk, and Erika was old enough to understand, he would profess that he was going to be the finest knight Hanseti-Ruska had ever seen. Then came the unexpected heirship. Dreams crushed, Andrei had gone through life angry and bitter, but he was never one to stay that way for long.

 

Erika should have known that Andrei, of all people, would find a way where others before him had not. A way to do both; a way to have it all.

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