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Lucian felt his heart sing in fear and tribulation but held it firm. He knew what was to be said, had learned it from his mentor Count Remon had taught him. These were the words after all that many Princes and Knights day dreamed to speak of. The man, Lucian was sure, regretted never speaking to them during his lifetime. For while he led a good life it all ended so suddenly.
He spoke the same time as Gillot by some miracle.
“I set down my lance, my symbol of duty.” They began as the words were spoken from their lips, “I spurn those whom I love, I relinquish all, and take up the tools of my quest.”
Such was the removal of all ownership. If they were owners of land they had given it up now. It was a far greater feat for Gillot, who was now no longer the Ducal Prince but something lesser, in a sense.
“No obstacle shall stand before me, no plea for help shall find me wanting. No moon will look upon me twice lest I be judged idle.”
Something was off, Lucian realized. That feeling within his chest had become so pitched that he would swear that he could feel his own soul. It was like a lump that was trying to break free of his flesh to bask in the holy waters of the presence that he kneeled before.
A good sign? Lucian had proven for sure that he had committed himself to this task. Even Gillot, for all his arrogance, did not think twice when faced with an entire army of the living damned.
“I will give my body, heart, and soul to the Lady whom I seek.”
There was a near audible gasp as the two men kept this heads bowed. They dared not raise their heads, for the vow needed to be witnessed by a notary of the highest standing.
He who would do so spoke, “Children of Lileath, present your weapons.”
Confusion was supplanted by conduct. The two of them raising their blades to present them to the familiar voice. They could feel ancient eyes glancing upon their persons as the voice spoke again.
“I, Grombrindal, First High King of the Dwarfs stand witness to these Knights and their Oaths.” Lucian felt the scythe leave his hands and dance upon both of his shoulders before returning to his grasp, “Now is the last moment you may revoke your Oaths. As those who pledge themselves to Grimnir, there is no turning back after your heads have been shaved and dyed red. Will you take on the Quest to find your Goddess?”
“I do.”
“Then your Oaths are accepted.” As if released from a spell, the two men raised their heads to see the most ancient of Dwarfs smiling upon them, “I’ll be sure to tell Lileath of your good deeds, but these are trying times. She will demand a great deal from you.”
