Chapter 5

Pious chants filled the halls as Tyrian wondered through the halls, drowning out even the sound of his steel boots against the flagstones. Trance like peace overtook Tyrian as he walked, his feet leading him like a guide as he moved through the hallowed halls until he halted, a masterpiece of stained glass towering over him with a sanctimonious gaze.

"Saint Domiere calling to you Tyrian?"

"No more than any corpse can" Tyrian turned to his new companion, a burly orc man clad in priestly robes of sky blue and gold, one of the few that came with him from the orphanage. "How have the fate weavers been treating you Rokar?"

"Like a dirty rag, putting me through the wringer until I break" Rokar had a wistful look in his eyes, his vision transfixed on the stain glass effigy.

"So what made her so special?"

"Hm?" Rokar was jolted from his reverie at the question, looking at Tyrian with mild bemusement, "Has Helion been so lax in his studies?"

Tyrian averted his gaze back to the stain glass effigy, "For a holy knight, an order leader, I would expect him to be more..."

"Pious?"

"Reverent. I haven't heard him utter a single word of praise for the gods or prophets that make this faith"

"I'm sure there's a story there. Probably not our place to pry"

Tyrian gave a grunt of agreement as a silence fell between the two, a suffocating fog that refused to disperse.

"She was from the end of the zealot era"

"Hm?"

"Saint Domiere" Rokar continued, transfixed on the stain glass with reverence, "She was one of the key figures that brought the church out of its blind zealotry, stopped the near genocide of the demon born"

"What did she do after?"

"Nothing. She was burned at the stake by the holy orders"

"Ah... Maybe that's why he never told me about it"

"Helion? Didn't seem the type to cover for others mistakes, especially one this big"

Tyrian mulled over the statement, "Yeah, that is not him" He gave a little chuckle as he continued "I can hear him now, 'Such barbed and venomed accusations do not befit one as yourself, reflect on these thoughts of skulduggery and mischief'"

"'Forsooth good sir'" Rokar responded with mock affront, "'Dost thou thumb thy nose at mine dialogue, have at thee foul cur"

In mock rage, Rokar charged Tyrian, tackling him to the floor as the two devolved into a light hearted melee. While Tyrian could easily fend of the bookish orc, he kept the wrestle going, delighting in the play fight.

"Really?" The cold voice brought the two to attention from the heap on the floor, gazing up like scolded children. A silver skinned demon born towered over them, forked tail flicking in irritation, hair matching her skin flowing in a curtain down to her waist. A metal mask covered her features completely, the wrought iron locked in a gaze of permanent disapproval, a contrast from the leather armour she was adorned with.

"Really, boys are such immbeci-" The woman was cut short as another woman skidded round the corner, her short cut, golden hair flying wildly as an equally wild grin spread across her face. With a burst of speed, she tore down the hallway, small sparks of lightning flying off her form as she cast of the bronze armour that clad her till she was down to her linen shirt.

"A new challenger enters" She roared with delight as she leapt into the air, an elbow raised like a spear aimed at the two dumbfounded boys splayed out on the floor.

"Tryin' t' heard cats again?" The speaker was a tall half elf, features a little too elongated to be natural with ears that tapered into points at their end, though too rounded to be truly elven. His brown hair was cut short, barely reaching the back of his neck, and a warm smile seemed fixed on his face. Like Rokar, he was clad in priestly robes, though rather than blue and gold, his were a dark green and silver.

"I don't know why I bother" The demon born woman sighed. Lithiana was her name, and like everyone else present she followed Tyrian from the orphanage.

"Scraps like that ain't our business anyway" As the half elf, Esther, replied, a mischievous little smirk crawling onto his lips, "Besides, we both know y' last ten seconds in that there scrap"

Lithiana's eye twitched slightly, "Just because I choose not to, doesn't mean I can't"

"Not soundin' very convincin' there"

"I know what you are doing and it won't work"

"Shame" Esther sighed, turning from Lithiana slightly before snapping his fingers with a look of urgency, as though he just remembered something important, "That reminds me, y' did know 'bout Renlin findin' yer diary, was talkin' 'bout sharin' it with th' others"

No sooner had the words been spoken, Lithiana flew like a fury of hell into the melee. A mischevious smile played on Esther's lips, his work here was done.

Some would not agree however, a fact made plainly clear to Esther by the vice grip around his ankle. Pleading eyes met the mischievous smirk of Renlin, a furious Lithiana descending upon her as she yanked the scrawny half elf into the fray.

The scrap continued for a long while, a few nuns and priests stepping around the flurry of fists on their way to rituals or prayers, ignoring the scrapping children. For that is what they were, children, Esther only recently became fifteen years of age, and he was the oldest of them. They were children that had left behind a comfortable if frugal life for days of hard drills and vigorous study, and all they had was each other.

When all the fight had left them and they lay in a pile of limbs and tired bodies, they rose as one. It did not take long to reach one of the chapels many gardens, little alcoves of greenery in the sprawling complex of gold and marble dedicated to the goddess of nature, Small pockets of peace and serenity made for both prayer and relaxation.

The group spread out in the empty garden, finding tree branches and dry patches of grass, forming a small ring. And then they began to chat amongst themselves, things of little importance and some of great. Whatever could fill the time.

They spoke of training, of the instructors that they favoured, and those they despised, of future glories and past failures. Like this they stayed for over an hour, before the conversation inevitably shifted towards progress.

"Watch this" Rokar declared proudly, pulling a coin after Esther had needled him about showing off his skill. With practiced calm, Rokar tossed the coin into the air, the group watching with wide eyes as the silver medallion tumbled through the air.

"Heights" the ork declared, a strange ripple of magic clasped hard over the coin with a strange warble in the air. The coin fell flatly, in the grass, a stylized ray of light parting a cloud on the upturned face.

"Lucky guess" Esther said dismissively, "Anyone can do that, heck, maybe I should join th' damn fate weevers if that's all it takes"

Rokar shot Esther a pointed look, "Fall" he muttered under his breath.

"What's that buddy, can't here it over th' so-ououOUND" Esther leaned in with a mocking inclination, only to over extend ever so slightly as a loose branch from the tree above to fall and push him over all the way, leaving the half elf in a heap on the grass, "Ok, I admit, y' got me there. Me mouth is shut"

From there, each member of the group displayed their progress. Esther teased hidden truths out of the other with the teachings of the Order of Revelations, Renlin displayed mastery over lightning and thunder gifted by the Storm Caller Order, and Lithiana showed magical traps and trinkets she had carved her self with the aid of the Witch Hunter's.

And as the boasting and raucous laughter continued, Tyrian could feel a terrible knot twisting his stomach into shapes of envy and despair. Yes he had learned the sword and shield arts of the Oath Keeper's, had excelled to the point his instructors had praised him above all others, yet with his inability to grasp even the most basic of oath magic... He knew it was pathetic, but he resented everyone in that garden in equal measures to which he loved them.

"What about you Tyr?"

Tyrian's head jerked up, meeting the expectant eyes of Renlin only inches from his own. He couldn't meet those eyes as shame welled in his chest, he couldn't lie to her.

"I... I still haven't learned anything" it took more effort than sparring with Helion for a day straight to say those words.

"Bullshit" Esther spoke out, a slight grimace on his face, "Don't lie t' us Tyr, I saw ye going toe t' toe with full fledged knights. What ye talking 'bout, 'I ain't learned anything'"

"Yeah, but that's swords. Magic is... Magic is just not for me" Tyrian curled up at the words, shrinking away from the stares of his friends.

"Ain't for ye? Since when did ye give up so easy, what ye do with th' rea- ough"

Esther was cut off by sharp elbow to the gut and Lilthiana's disapproving scowl. Brought out of his own words, Esther finally looked at Tyrian, and a crestfallen look of apology overtook his face.

An awkward air fell over the clearing as the group shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do next. Except for Renlin.

The girl tapped her foot on the ground impatiently, deep concentration etched into her features. Finally, the constant tapping ceased as she spun to face Tyrian, a beaming smile on her faith.

"Let's make an oath then, all of us"

The declaration floored Tyrian as a warning surfaced in his mind. Whenever an oathkeeper was sworn into the order, there was but a single rule drilled into their skulls till it became gospel. Never make an oath lightly.

There magic walked through strange means, one of which being it's unpredictability and volatility. All those that practised magic had to watch their words, as they inherently held more influence over the world, yet for those who practised oath magic this rule applied like an iron vice rather than the soft restrictions held by most.

"Renlin" Tyrian protested, "I don't think this is-"

"Come on Tyr, what's the harm" as she spoke, Renlin hooked Tryian up by an arm and brought them to form a circle with the rest of the group, "Like in the stories, we'll be a brother hood of knights, questing across the lands as heroes. So let's make an oath, right here and now, that when we grow up and adventure on our own, we will always have each other's backs"

Tyrian cast a helpless gaze around the circle of companions, yet only got three glints of mischief and excitement spilling from three sets of eyes, and what was an oath he intended to keep anyway.

"If we do this" Tyrian said with conviction, "We do this right" 

A hand shot out straight, Renlin beaming as the first to initiate the oath circle, soon joined by the others, each racing to take position over the others. Tyrian cast his gaze around the circle, eyes meeting each of his closest friends one by one. All he saw was resolve and excitement, just like in the stories they had always dreamed of, they were making it reality.

"Be there foul demon or righteous angel" Renlin began.

"Be there act of god or rejection of the world" Tyrian followed.

"Through storm and sleet, through arrow rain and inferno's pain" Esther said without missing a beat, before Lithiana stepped in to continue.

"Though our bones may shatter and blood spilled"

"If life still beats in our hearts, friends and allies we shall remain" Rokar was the last to speak, a wide smile splitting his face.

"This, we swear" They all spoke in unison, as an invisible wave pulsed through the garden, the world binding their words to be truth, one more so then the rest.

...

'Young Tyrian's life turned since joining the order, a prodigy with the blade and master of combat, yet a lacklustre mage at best. This short coming ate at the young man, consuming his every moment.

Still, in the adversity did young Tyrian find comradery greater than any treasure and as unbreakable as steel. Through this bond, he began to master the strange branch of oath magic known as true heart oath magic, a branch relying on personal and specific oaths to bring the effects of the magic to new heights, while promising a terrible fall if any oath is broken

Trait gained: True heart oath magic'

'True heart oath magic: +1 magic potential while using oath magic. Increase the effect of all oath magic by 20%. Increase the backlash of all oath magic by 40%'

'Now, you have seen how Young Tyrian's story begins, let us see how it ends'