Chapter 428: Chapter 428 - Eyes Are Drawn To The Bright Stars, But Few Know Their Assigned Name Or Relative Magnitude
Recognizing important attendees was necessary tradition, but the hour-long processional after the venue was locked down had been tedious. Big names of those in attendance were each heralded to receive their formal, public acknowledgment of their presence at the event. Among the distinguished guests, Navuill had noted Corde hez Iralev - the Frozen Duskblade - seated with other former heroes in a position of honor.
That included a very nervous looking Ondua er Goltbred, who was not sure that what would happen today was the best way of doing things. But he also could not talk them out of it. Either his wife or his... *daughter*-in-law, he mentally corrected himself when almost slipping again. Yet, as the ceremony formalities concluded and the crowd settled into patient silence...
Kwared finally stepped forward - the Void Defense Society Continental Guild Master whose high Triple cultivation commanded immediate attention and respect. Only a bit of exhaustion was in his eyes as the toll another Descent made its mark. Most of it that was there was actually caused over not invaders, but the more homegrown matters ahead.
"We gather today not merely to celebrate victory and the return to our normal functioning lives, but to formally recognize new pillars of our continental defense. The achievements we honor transcend regional boundaries. They represent the emergence of cultivators whose impact will be felt for generations to come."
Navuill gripped the armrests as the density of the whole crowd’s emotions peaked. On the battlefield, he had felt this too. A sort of flow of morale that his Empath Astralism was tuned into. There, he could just keep swinging his sword at enemies. But here, there was nothing to do but grit his teeth and bear it.
Each of the first two region’s recognized heroes were called out first to be witnessed and rewarded. With fine speeches that any would have been proud to have been about themselves and a well tailored shoulder cape crafted by the finest of the continent’s artisans. However, any mention of land holdings were held back.
This sometimes happened and sometimes did not in this speeches, because behind the scenes they had already been sold and traded - this time to the vaunted hero of the century. Beyond a lack of desire to actually maintain the operations of a city themselves, these cultivators also did not want to get in the middle of what could look like a power struggle.
Only one of them was not politically involved enough to have heard of the quiet, under the rug punishment of the Yecine family... and he had instead heard some other rumors that made him want to distance himself. From the very person that the Void Defense Society leader was about to introduce to the crowd.
"Responsible for over thirteen confirmed leader-class Voidling eliminations. The development and successful test deployment of the revolutionary Cynosure Formation for a previously unrecognized Physique. Achievements that exceeded comparable units by margins that defy conventions."
The man serving as master of ceremonies let his voice be carried to the farthest reaches of the grounds thanks to the excellent sound projection sigils in this particular event platform’s base. He’d heard about and seen some of the ’minor’ improvements at this location, but he was sure that many were underestimating the value of the ability behind it.
For a long lived cultivator, seeing so many marked improvements - even small ones -across the board suddenly happening was a good thing. It meant that stagnation had been kept at bay for a while longer for their civilization. And it also was clearly not unrelated that the person responsible for these upgrades was connected to the star of the ceremony.
"These sort of accomplishments speak not only to exceptional personal skill, but to the kind of leadership that inspires others to transcend their limitations. However, today we also acknowledge a different choice of profound significance."
In the crowd, scattered conversations had begun again as he took a few beats of deliberate pause - whispers of what this recognition of a Yecine meant for regional power balance. Speculation about future alliances and opportunities to be found in a city run by them. But Navuill knew better and found himself focused on the platform... waiting for his cousin to appear on the stage and overturn all of their thoughts.
"This was a decision that speaks to the courage required not only to serve against the Voidlings, as is our duty as cultivators, but to forge one’s own path when future application of that duty is constrained by other forces. Other divergent... obligations."
Near the back of the mortal crowd, a figure in a worn cloak and traveling clothes shifted nervously. The body double had heard news that the Yecine family were, for the most part, uninvited to this event. Not through official channels so much as by one of them out searching for his location too loudly grumbling about it to another of their number.
So he had dared to come and see the ’crowning’ of the person he had once been shaped to look like. The young woman who, like him, had been used in her youthful innocence to further shady goals of the corrupt side of a major family. His small plans of revenge and revelation were already working in motion - slower than he’d like, but it was hard to spread rumors of truth while keeping hidden.
"It is therefore my honor, to present for recognition: Qatrand gil Yecine, Hero of the Descent and Warden Patrician of this new southern plains territory."
The crowd’s reaction was immediate - and varied. Many had expected the latter announcement, but the use of ’gil’ meaning ’formerly of’ sent ripples of emotion through so many more. Gasps of surprise, frantic murmurs about the lack of notice, all of it erupted from spattered sections of the audience.
Navuill er Yecine shuddered out a breath. His cousin had done it. She’d actually severed herself from the Yecine. Choosing to stand alone rather than carry the weight of the family’s recent failures. Formal emancipation from family ties, revealed to so many people at the moment of Qatrand’s current greatest triumph.
Pride and sorrow warred in his chest as he watched her step forward onto the platform. It was no wonder, he thought, that the members of his family wielding heavy swords and heavier pride as if they were one and the same would not be allowed to come today.
Qatrand appeared well composed, her raven hair present and indicating her duty-focused mindset... and her formal black attire bearing the Yecine colors for what might be the last time for all he knew. But Navuill could feel the emotional tensions of her spirit, now more powerful than his.
So much so that she glanced at him with her pigeon blues immediately - and nodded her permission when he intentionally tried reading her. Doing so made the corners of his eyes hot and his back stiffen further to keep himself together.
’Sad... and Determined. And the same sort of... Love and Friendship as the last time we saw each other.’
As Qatrand reached the center of the platform and unsheathed her weapon, she twisted the gleaming, polished blade into a reverse grip while planting the tip on the ground in front of herself in a single fluid motion. Showcasing herself to the crowd... but to Navuill? He saw it differently.
The sword itself was utterly filled with two strong meanings to him. A gift from the young heiress, Elua er Goltbred, that had been her trusty tool throughout the fighting. A representation of that person’s assistance. Something she *needed* everyone to see.
And it was also a symbol of what the Yecine once were. For the sword had always been an ’impressive functional replica’ of that ceremonial blade, kept locked in the family’s spiritual cultivation room. An impressive non-functional artifact.
"...Oh."
Despite himself, and knowing that so many may take it the wrong way, his hand found his mouth and covered his snickering laughter. He really was not sure if that brunette had chosen to do this on purpose or if she was just following a whim related to ’her fortress’. But he wasn’t sure it mattered anymore.
A weapon that traced back toward the founders of their prosperity. To another Hero of the Descent. It was almost like his cousin’s path had long been set and chosen. Embracing something new with the ideals that made the old great, not miring in something old that only let the newly corrupt take hold in its swamp.
Lirades looked over at him like he had lost his mind. But without a doubt, he was sure he finally found it again. Because he had not smiled once in four months, even in private - and he could not stop now... even when he moved his hand away.
⟠ ⟠ ⟠
The formal presentation continued after providing the last hero with their shoulder cape, with the detailed acceptance of various privileges and responsibilities conferred on the new Warden Patrician by the continental Council of Guilds. Until finally, the Gravity wielding cultivator was give the item that marked her new status.
A chain with heavy links, inscribed with each high-authority Guild’s name and founding date. While finely made, it held no intrinsically high value for any thief - nor was it to be protected at all costs lest the owner lose their position. It was merely tradition. One that was met with thunderous applause as it was hung diagonally across the suit wearing cultivator’s chest.
Qatrand gil Yecine stepped forward to the edge of the platform. Her low-toned voice carried clean across the grounds even without the projection sigils at the center of the stage, because of the ones activated in her brooch. The ability to do this wherever she was had been quite useful on the battlefield, but it was just as useful for these social situations.
"I’m sure many of you have a lot of very specific questions. But whatever you may assume or plot due to my choices, I make none of them lightly. Including taking on this responsibility."
With her sword, she gestured in a circle toward the competition grounds around them before sheathing it at her back. The mantle would take some getting used to, but it wasn’t as if she was required to wear it on a daily basis. Even for any additional ceremonies that a recognized Hero attended, it was more of a statement piece than a hard rule.
"Right now, this territory holds potential - for mortals and cultivators. Housing, trade, agriculture... my intention is to foster that prosperity, though I make no promises to it. What I do promise is protection. For those who choose to build their lives here under the strength that I have and will continue to cultivate."
Letting a calloused hand briefly touch the chain across her chest, directly over the link for The Ironclad Order... she thought of the tenents that the organization shared with so many other and that the family she was born into was supposed to believe in.
"What I intend is to create something lasting. Not through grand proclamations to convince you or any particularly ambitious schemes, but through steady work and my committed defense of those who keep to ultimately righteous paths."
A warmer smile grew across her features even as her black hair began to shift, lightening to its natural blonde. Many who knew of her, as most who came to the event did, saw it as a sure sign that her next words were just as relevant to her morals - just not so directly related to more outward adhering ethics.
"And when my wife arrives, I’ll be sure to make her play nice with everyone. So don’t make me have to do the same with all of you."
The crowd’s reaction was mixed - some chuckling immediately at what seemed like gentle humor. Others exchanging uncomfortable glances as they processed the implications of her confident reference to the still missing Elua er Goltbred. Navuill, for his part just huffed and sighed.
’Of course, Anper was right. There is no way she would have been so calm all this time without having a good handle on her... ’cute’ wife’s safety.’