//------------------------------// // 27. The Knight's Oath // Story: The Age of Wings and Steel // by DSNesmith //------------------------------// The audience chamber was filled with spectators. They were all waiting to see the knighting of their young duke-to-be, and the ceremony had all the appropriate pomp the occasion required. Banners carrying the Blueblood coat of arms were draped from the bannisters, six hundred candles had been lit and placed in the ceremonial braziers, and the great carpet had been unrolled from the door to the altar where Knight-Commander Volund, the Duke, and the Voice of Celestia waited. As Clement entered the great chamber, there was a quiet stamping of hooves. Clement stepped forward as the Knight-Commander began his speech. He stood rigid, waiting to give his oaths. He glanced over at his father. Emmet smiled at him, and he returned to his attentive pose with a warm feeling. The Knight-Commander droned on, detailing the duties and responsibilities of a knight. Clement knew them all by heart already. He’d wanted this for a long time. He was ready, he knew it. His shining armor reflected the candlelight, the fire dancing off his pauldrons and the helmet he carried. He looked magnificent, and soon he would wear the steel chain of the order of Norharren’s knighthood to complete the set. “You will defend the weak, aid the helpless, protect the ponies of Equestria from their enemies…” The speech was long and dry. Clement had seen these ceremonies before, and he knew there was nearly an hour of it to go. It was all worth it for the chance to serve his father. “Above all else, a knight pledges to keep the kingdom strong. Your first duty must always be to the whole of Equestria.” His thoughts turned to the war. How long would it take for his army to move into Norlund? He hoped it would be quick. He was anxious to see his first real battle. Weston had been right, after all. Leading small groups of his father’s ponies along the road to clear it of brigands was good training, but hardly a real substitute for war. He was scared, of course, but excited to face a real foe in combat instead of a practice dummy or a sparring partner. He wanted to look around to see where Weston stood in the crowd, but he had to keep facing straight ahead until the end of the ceremony. Afterwards at the celebratory party he could crack his neck, but appearances had to be maintained. Clement allowed his mind to wander, picturing his triumphant return to Norharren with a conquered Norlund at his back. Perhaps they would throw a parade… At long last, just when he was beginning to fear the Knight-Commander would never stop talking, Volund’s speech wound down and came to a halt. The time had come for him to take his vows. He placed a hoof over his heart as the Voice read the oaths, speaking when he was required to. “And do you solemnly swear before the sun and the moon that you will uphold these tenets with every action, word, and thought?” “So do I swear,” he replied, following the script. Finally, the vows were completed, and the Knight-Commander brought forth the knight’s chain. The steel links shone faintly in the candlelight. The armored unicorn presented it to Clement, draping it around his shoulders and latching the clasp to his armor. Clement kneeled with his front legs. The Voice stepped forward and lowered her horn to Clement’s shoulder. “Let it be known that this pony has been deemed worthy in the eyes of Celestia, and let him now be granted the title of Knight and all that it implies.” She raised her horn and placed it on his other shoulder. “In Celestia’s voice, I name you Knight Clement Marverion Blueblood, and servant of Equestria. Rise.” He stood, feeling victorious. The assembled ponies all stomped their hooves in applause, as the Knight-Commander and the Voice took their leave of the altar. His father approached and clapped him on the shoulder with a hoof. “Excellently done, Clement. I’ll see you later in my study to discuss our strategy, yes?” “Of course, father.” “Very well. Enjoy yourself, but don’t drink too much. I want you sharp.” His father passed him and left. * * * The after-party in the Blueblood manor was an expensive affair. The Duke would only have the best for his son, and most of the city’s nobility had been invited. Clement shook hooves and accepted congratulations throughout the evening, chatting up the mares of the nobility and generally enjoying himself. Weston lurked in the corner of the building, his face locked in an uncharacteristic frown. Clement shrugged. If his squire was upset for some reason, he didn’t intend to let it spoil the day of his knighting. He grabbed another tart from the table of food and went to relax outside in the gardens. He wandered into the hedges, finding his way through to the pond. He admired his reflection in the water, still delighting in the new steel chain that hung from his shoulders. “What a farce,” said a muffled voice. Clement’s head rose. He hadn’t expected other ponies to be outside while the party was still going. “He’s not so bad,” said another pony. “Certainly, Clement is young, but he has the look of a knight about him.” “And what does that mean, anymore? Knights, don’t make me laugh. Did you even listen to the Voice’s readings? Of course not. I doubt she listened to herself.” Clement crept closer to the hedge, straining to hear the two ponies. He looked through a hole in the shrubbery, trying to see the two speakers. They must be right behind the hedge, not-quite-whispering to each other. “I don’t catch your meaning.” “A Knight’s first duty is to serve Equestria. All of Equestria. And yet our little lordling is marching off to war against the Princess herself.” “Well…” “The hypocrisy in that family is staggering. The Duke protests against an increase in our military spending for years, then demands that we provide an army in weeks. And now he’s using it to make his own coinpurse bigger.” “Keep your voice down. I think you’ve had too much to drink.” “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t see it too. At least the Duchess of Whitetail went to war to protect her people, not to subjugate another province to pad her tax revenue.” “And we all saw how well that turned out. Besides, you can’t pretend Belle is innocent either. What about Easthill?” “She took Easthill for steel to arm her troops, so that she could fight against the griffons.” “What, you honestly think she wouldn’t have marched to war against us afterwards? Be serious.” “Perhaps. But it hardly matters now, anyway. She’s dead, the griffons are marching north, and we’re wasting our army fighting against the ponies who should be our allies.” “I admit, I… do not think it right, to attack the Princess. She’s done right by us for a long time.” “Blueblood’s going to get us all killed, mark my words.” “I think it’s time we head back inside. You’re going to attract unwanted attention if you keep shouting.” “Fine. I’m tired of this party anyway.” The two stallions left the garden, their hooves echoing off the cobblestone. Clement sat in silence, doubts eating away at him. Your first duty must always be to the whole of Equestria. He stood, suddenly taken with determination. He needed to talk to his father. * * * As he walked up the stairs to his father’s study, Knight-Commander Volund’s voice reached out into the hallway. “I simply feel that it might be best to deal with the griffons before we—” “No!” There was a thud. Duke Blueblood’s baritone echoed. “This is our best opportunity. If we wait, or move our forces south, we’ll lose the chance to take Norlund. Celestia will reinforce the provinces around the capital, and we don’t have the time to spare.” “But sir, if Westermin and Weatherforge fall, then—” Clement knocked a hoof on the door, and the voices fell silent. His father called out, irritated. “What is it?” He pushed the door open and entered the study. His father and the Knight-Commander were both standing with their front hooves on the desk, looking at a map. The Duke’s expression softened as he saw his son. “Ah, Clement. My apologies. I didn’t expect you for another hour or two.” “Father,” began Clement. Best to come right out and say it. “I share the Knight-Commander’s concerns.” He watched with a cold feeling in his stomach as his father’s smile vanished. “We need to deal with the griffons.” Volund jumped at the support. “The boy is right. I’m telling you, Emmet, if we don’t send our troops down to help the southerners we’re ALL going to be in trouble.” “I think you greatly overestimate them.” “Celerity was no fool. She died all the same. If we don’t want to share her fate, we need to act while we still can.” “Father, is it really wise to attack the Princess? Couldn’t we use her help against the griffons? Surely we’ll have to fight them at some point.” “Yes we will,” picked up Volund. “And better to do it with Celestia on our side than to have her at our back.” “Father, we can’t just ignore the threat from Grypha.” “Enough.” The Duke’s face was stern. “I will brook no more argument. This is Norhart’s opportunity to take its rightful place as Equestria’s first province.” His eyes were steely. “Whitetail’s era is done and over. It is long past time for us to surpass it. If the griffons destroy Celerity’s Duchy, then so much the better.” Volund slammed a hoof down in impotent anger. He stood back from the desk. “As you wish, then. But this foolishness will be the death of us all.” The Knight-Commander swirled around and left the room. The Duke and his son stared at each other. “No more argument. Am I clear?” Clement swallowed. “I still don’t think it’s—” “Clement.” He lost his nerve, and folded. “Yes. You’re clear.” “Good. Perhaps now we can attend to our campaign? Yes?” “Yes, father.”