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<—>CONTINUED<—>
Fifteen minutes go by, and in that time, a few of the knights give you looks. Some are just incidental eye contact as they pass by, some are more fraught with wonder. You suppose Alphonse isn’t the only one who recognizes you off of Milo.
Finally, up to the podium steps the imposing figure. Another one that you have not seen in five years. As he scans his audience for attendance, his eyes catch yours, and you remember the prior night.
He was unhappy to receive you, and you’re not sure why. It’s not your capability, you’re certain some of the squires on staff aren’t as learned as you are, behind on training manuals. No, it was something more symbolic. Metzen is a blunt sort. If you were unfit to aid his company, he’d have let you know. You suspect his grievance lies with your father. There was resentment in his eyes, even as he tried to smile at you, then.
Alongside him is Alphonse, who stands further back, eyes glued to his schedule forms and notes. He scribbles something, you can tell he’s not having the greatest of times in the company of the order his master is feuding with.
“Storks! Look alive!” He clasps his gauntlets together, and the staff all stand at attention. “As you know, Elmycion’s Knights’ Clash is a prestigious event. A team like ours would be happy with the honor of merely being allowed to show up, let alone be one of the sixteen orders participating…” He paces left, lifting his fist as he articulates. “But we aren’t here for honor! By our creed, honor is earned in the eyes of the common, not the noble. They have goals, WE!” He lowers his fist and scans the audience again, flashing a confident smirk. “…Have a plan.”
The Storks’ fatigue is routed by their cheers. Metzen hasn’t seemed to have lost an ounce of charisma since you’ve known him. He has to cease his loyal soldiers’ applause, gesturing to quiet down with both arms as his expression returns to grim reality.
“In the walls of that city, in the walls of that castle, our brother, my nephew, lies trapped by the treachery of one Gerald Hayner.” He does not include any honorific. The bastard has lost the right, as far as you’re concerned. “He’s holding Milo, a truly exemplary knight of ours, for… ransom. You all know this. But it must be reiterated. We fight for the proliferation of truth and the sacred secrets of the common being! That creed of ours is a threat to him. In his eyes, the only ones with the right to free communication are those who have bought it with a blood-soaked inheritance!”
There’s more applause from the knights. You notice Alphonse adjusting his glasses, shrinking away again, like he wants to say something of this...
<—>CONTINUED<—>
