Work Text:
"This is completely unnecessary," Dunban grumbled. Between the morning chill and the royal summons, his mood was blacker than usual. Although these days — with most of his time spent on the warfront — that wasn't saying much.
"Nonsense. This is absolutely the most appropriate time to honor you and your commitment to the war efforts. Preparations for our siege on Torigoth can wait! I'm sure the Generals are perfectly content delaying the final strategy meeting until after your special appointment with the Queen." Sharon taunted, flipping her long platinum blond over her shoulder. He shot her a glare but she merely laughed, the sound mirthful with an undercurrent of teeth.
They advanced through the main hall of the palace, past the needlessly gigantic tapestries illustrating key battles in Uraya's history. It seemed everywhere Dunban looked, there was some sort of depiction of Uraya's military strength and prowess, whether it be a tapestry, a painting, or the soldiers on duty stationed every five feet, congratulating him as he walked by.
Did everyone know this blasted ceremony was happening? Wasn't the damned thing supposed to be private? Or was that all a ruse to intensify the curiosity of those uninvited, intrigue them with the mystery of what happened behind closed doors?
Nobles and their games. What a waste of time.
"If the Queen wanted to honor me, she'd let me do my job. I was supposed to meet the new recruits this morning." Dunban snapped. "Now I won't have a chance to before I head back out to the frontlines."
"You're wasting your time on peons?"
"I'll be sending them into battle." Possibly to their deaths.
"Oh, I see. You wanted to give them a big, inspirational speech to rally them for the fight ahead." Sharon snorted. "How boring."
"And this is why you're not in charge of the army."
"I prefer to think of it as having skills more suited for the shadows." She sneered. And she did. Dunban was one of the few who knew Sharon was the leader of the Queen's assassins.
They came to a stop outside a pair of large double doors engraved with the seal of the Selosia family, a soldier stationed on either side.
"Sir! Ma'am!" The one on the right side saluted.
"The Queen has requested our presence." Dunban supplied.
As the other guard entered to make their appearance known, Sharon remarked, "Wipe that sour look off your face. You're about to be recorded in the history books. Think of how future generations will learn of the great Dunban earning the Queen's favor!"
"I sincerely doubt a medal commendation will make any mark in history."
"It's not just any medal commendation."
Dunban narrowed his eyes. "What do you know?"
The doors to the throne room opened and the guard announced: "Presenting Lieutenant General Forrester and Lieutenant General Effinger."
"Just wait and see," Sharon winked and strolled into the throne room.
Dunban clenched his jaw, watching his colleague waltz down the scarlet red carpet towards the golden throne. What the hell was going on? When he'd first received the summons — orders really — from the messenger yesterday, he'd had to fight the urge to groan. Pomp and circumstance were not useful to him, especially in the middle of a war. He had things to do. He didn't need praise. He didn't need some useless award. He needed to protect his people. This was the exact kind of thing that had made him wary to join the military in the first place, people playing with the lives of others just to curry favor with the monarch.
It was disgusting.
But he'd needed to protect his sister and a life in the military guaranteed that for him. So here he was. Not out of love of country or desire to help the greater good — if Uraya's agenda could even be called that — but for Fiora and her freedom, and for others caught in the crossfire between two power-hungry nations.
Squaring his shoulders, he strode into the Queen's throne room, the lights above shining down on the silver buttons on his navy military uniform. He stopped when he fell in line with Sharon and bowed. "Your Majesty."
As he lifted his head, his eyes met those of Queen Raqura, who was seated on the golden throne. Though he'd only met the Queen a handful of times, he knew her to be a cunning, yet straightforward woman, able to recognize manipulations easily and had no time for supplicants' praises. She was a woman of action, but also a product of the royal line, which believed in hierarchies and noble histories and commendation ceremonies.
"Lieutenant General Forrester, I have called you here today to commend you on your skill in leading the Uraya's military against Mor Ardain. Your service has been steadfast and remarkable, especially given you have only been an officer for a few years." She stated. Glancing to her right, she gestured for her advisor Flynn — a gangly fellow with a nervous disposition — to come forward. She took a small box from him and continued, "It has been indicated to me that your bravery and leadership on the battlefield are indispensable and your handling of the military campaign strategic and smart. As such, I have chosen you to bear the role of the Champion of the Uraya. Lieutenant General Effinger will serve as our witness."
Dunban tempered a snort. This is what Sharon meant. It was not a simple medal ceremony. It was a title. A useless title. How rich.
Raqura slid off the throne and approached him. Opening the box, she removed a golden medal and handed it back to Flynn. Dunban kept his gaze focused over the Queen's shoulder as she pinned the medal to his uniform.
"As Champion of Uraya, you will serve not only the military but also myself. You will be a champion for nobles and plain folk alike. You will aid in all efforts to secure Uraya's place in Alrest and protect her with your life."
If Fiora were here to see this, he wondered what she would say. It was hard to speculate, it had been too long since the two of them had had a conversation that went past pleasantries and small talk. There was no time for more when fighting a war.
"Congratulations, Lieutenant General. Or should I say, my Champion," Raqura proffered her hand.
"The honor is mine." He stated and kissed her ring. Then he stood back and bowed once more.
Raqura turned and made her way back to her seat on the throne. "I expect you to represent the Kingdom with grace and strength befitting the title."
He fought the frown that threatened to overtake his features. "Of course."
"And as Champion of Uraya, you are gifted with the Scythe of Selosia." Raqura gestured Flynn forward. This time he carried a palm-sized treasure chest. With great care, he opened the latch and revealed its contents: atop a navy blue satin cushion lay a crystal.
A Blade crystal.
"The Scythe of the Selosia is the legendary Blade passed down from generation to generation in my family line to bestow upon one deemed worthy. My father did not choose a Champion, nor did my grandfather. But of course, they did not have the strength to lead a successful military regime, so there was no need for one."
Dunban didn't miss the disdain dripping from her voice. But he was less interested in her perspective on her forefathers and more irritated by this new development. She was cementing his loyalty by binding him to her with a bribe he most certainly did not want.
He ground his teeth and flexed his hands, forcing them to not curl into fists. If he wasn't doing this for Fiora, he'd walk out of here right now and never look back.
"Today, I gift you this Blade to use in your endeavors to bring Uraya to supremacy." The Queen declared. "Use it well."
A smattering of applause — the loudest from Sharon since she no doubt knew how disgusted he was by the proceedings and reveled in it — and Dunban lifted the crystal out of the box. It sparkled in the light, casting rainbows across the room.
What creature lay sleeping inside this beautiful prison?
"Thank you, Your Majesty." He answered, his voice flat.
"I've heard you've only had a few Blades, all common ones. This should be an advancement for you," she commented.
Also something he didn't care about — impressing others with his Blade bonds.
"Well, wake it up." She urged. "I certainly want to see it."
He heaved an internal sigh. It was too much to hope that he would awaken the Blade in the privacy of his quarters. It had to be part of this spectacle. Reluctant, he stepped into the center of the room and held the crystal out in the palm of his hand.
Closing his eyes, Dunban felt its energy. There was a softness to it, which was a surprise. He'd never felt anything of the sort from the other Blades he'd bonded with — always a sense of power brimming just below the crystalline surface. But there was also a...coldness simultaneously. It was a strange juxtaposition.
In his mind, he coaxed the Blade to emerge from the Crystal and opened his eyes.
Blue light poured out of the crystal, purple and pink ribbons joining as well. The colors mixed and mingled before his eyes, a spiritual production demonstrating the essence of the creature that would imminently appear. Gradually, a dazzling white light overcame all and filled the room, blinding those who watched.
A few seconds passed, and the light receded.
Standing in front of him was a young woman, a few inches shorter than he. The razor-sharp edges of her battle armor shined against the soft lavender curls that cascaded down her shoulders. Her elegant white-gloved hands held within them a titanium staff decorated with engravings and silver spikes. And the wings atop her head, though not large, were certainly unusual enough to draw one's gaze.
But what was most eye-catching was her ice-blue eyes. They stared at him, unyielding, cold, emotionless.
She spoke.
"I am Melia Antiqua. I am ready to serve."