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Ambrosius experiences three life-altering surprises on his first day at the Institute.
The first happens right before he kneels in front of the Queen and swears his oath. This is when the Director introduces him as Ambrosius “Goldenloin” instead of “Goldenlion.” She does this not just in front of the Queen and his fellow cadets, but the entire Kingdom. The swearing in ceremony is broadcast live, and Ambrosius has less than five seconds to decide which is more humiliating—being stuck with “Goldenloin” for the rest of his knightly career, or admitting to the Queen, his fellow cadets, and the rest of the Kingdom that he can’t spell. At least not when writing by hand like stupid tradition says all potential knights must. His tablet alerts him whenever he mixes up the order of the letters, which is almost always. He’s lucky not to be known as Glodneloin, or Loinglod.
In the end he doesn’t so much as “decide” as he does “freeze and blurt out his oath”. He’d spent the last week memorizing it, short as it is he was nervous he would forget something.
“I, Ambrosius Golden…Goldenloin promise to let the Will of Gloreth guide me in my training. I join the Institute so that I may protect my Kingdom, and not for glory.”
“On behalf of the Kingdom and with a grateful heart, I accept and thank you for your devotion. Rise, Master Goldenloin,” the Queen says warmly, and any hope of correction vanishes. The Director introducing him is one thing, the Queen accepting his oath is another. He will be known as Ambrosius Goldenloin for the rest of his life.
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The second surprise happens during the first official training session. All the cadets are given wooden swords, lined up in front of individual practice dummies, and told to impress the Queen.
Ambrosius knows both from his uncle’s lectures and from watching the previous Inductions that this is just as ceremonial as the swearing in. The cadets are expected to do their best to knock the weighted dummies over, although the most they can hope for is a few impressive-looking hits. After they have exhausted themselves, the Queen will announce that while they did well they have much to learn.
This doesn’t happen. Instead, after about five minutes of whacking the practice dummy (doing his best to remember the proper forms his uncle drilled into him), Ambrosius becomes aware of shouting. Loud, angry, adult shouting, not childish shouts of his fellow cadets. He turns just in time to see a strange boy dressed in tattered clothes charge past Master Sureheart, and tackle his practice dummy. The boy has his own wooden sword, not finely carved and perfectly weighted like Ambrosius’ own, but flimsy and splintered.
The boy is isn’t wearing training armor, but the dummy is still no match for his fury. In seconds he’s broken it from its mount and torn off its stuffed head. He raises his sword aloft and shouts, “I’m here to slay monsters, and to protect our Kingdom!” The way the boy talks is funny, the word “monsters” sounding almost like “moanstahs”.
Ambrosius has a split-second to notice the boy is skinny and dark-skinned with large brown eyes peering out from beneath a curtain of shaggy black hair. Then the boy is tackled by half a dozen knights.
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The third surprise, and by far the most important--not just of Ambrosius’ day but of his entire life--is that he falls completely and permanently in love.
Not that he recognizes the feeling for what it is at the time. When the Director asks him if he’s okay, Ambrosius says “No” with complete honestly. He feels like his stomach has been replaced with a hive of bees and he can feel their buzzing all the way up to his throat. His face is so hot he feels feverish, and his heart is a pounding roar.
“I’m sorry this happened, Ambrosius,” the Director continues from somewhere a thousand miles away. “Try not to let this…incident…overshadow the accomplishment of this day.”
“Uh huh,” Ambrosius answers, barely hearing her. He’s still staring at the boy as he’s dragged away. He thinks he’ll never want to look at anything else ever again.
“I didn’t get a chance to say how appropriate I thought your choice of Knightly appellation was. How it honors your ancestor, how it makes people think of where you came from.”
“Right,” Ambrosius says. The Queen is calling out to the knights, telling them to bring the boy to the throne room.
The Director keeps talking, but Ambrosius doesn’t hear her. The boy is finally out of sight, but Ambrosius can still see him in his mind’s eye.
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That night both his uncle and his aunt join him for dinner (or at least for the first course). Seeing either of them is rare, both at the same time is rarer still, both of them speaking at Ambrosius is rarest of all. The last time was the previous year, when they discussed Ambrosius joining the Institute and training to become a knight.
Tonight the conversation is far more agitated. “That common boy, on such hallowed grounds! How did he get past the guards?” his aunt says. Ambrosius knows that even though she as looking at him he is not expected to answer. Normally that makes him feel a little sad and anxious, but he still feels a little dazed, like he’s spent too long in the sun.
“Some charity thing,” his uncle answers. He’s not looking at Ambrosius or his aunt, but instead glaring at his phone, typing frantically on the little keyboard beneath it. “A group from one of the Cheapside orphanages were allowed to see the Glorodome in person. The little miscreant snuck away.”
“He’s an orphan?” Ambrosius blurts out, “Like…like me?”
“What? Oh, not like you darling,” his aunt says, giving his hand a distracted pat, “Of course not like you! He’s not a noble with a good family to look after him. He might not even be an orphan at all, his parents could have just left him there. They do that sometimes in Cheapside, have too many children they can’t afford, then just leave them somewhere for the Kingdom to take care of.”
Ambrosius doesn’t know if that would be better or worse. He doesn’t remember his own parents well enough to properly miss them, but there’s still an ache in his heart where they should be. He wonders what they were like but he can’t ask them, and his aunt and uncle never say much. At least not much detail, they can talk at length at what fine examples of their noble family his mother was, and what an appropriate match his father was. Ambrosius wonders how it would feel if they were alive somewhere, but he still doesn’t know what they were like. Not because they’re dead, but because they don’t want him.
His aunt and uncle continue talking, but the subject shifts from the boy to their family heritage, the Will of Gloreth, their image. He finds himself drifting away, as he typically does in the presence of adults who don’t seem to want a real answer from him, just want to tell him about how he’s a descendent of Gloreth and what an honor and privilege that is. He has a familiar daydream that gets trotted out in those situations. The monsters get over the wall. The grown knights are knocked aside, and it’s up to him, Ambrosius Goldenlion—Ambrosius Goldenloin, to defeat them. Only this time there is a new addition—just when Ambrosius is knocked down and all looks lost a scrappy figure comes charging in, sword raised high and shouting he is there to slay the monsters.
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The next morning Ambrosius, along with the rest of the Kingdom, learns the boy is named Ballister. Ambrosius is wolfing down his breakfast and watching Blitzmeyer’s Laboratory on his tablet when it’s interrupted by a special announcement from the Queen herself. Ambrosius freezes with a spoon full of Dragon Krisps halfway to his open mouth.
The Queen and the Director are standing in the halls of the Institute, but Ambrosius barely sees him because the boy from yesterday is standing between them. The bees come back, and they’ve brought friends from the way Ambrosius’ insides squirm at the sight of that familiar figure. The cameras show him close up, and Ambrosius can study his face in more detail. He has a scar over his right eye, bisecting his eyebrow and ending just at his cheekbone. Ambrosius unconsciously reaches out and traces it with his finger, barely registering the Queen’s words until he sees the Director handing the boy a sword.
The Dragon Krisps fall unnoticed from Ambrosius’ spoon when the boy starts to speak in his funny accent. “I, Ballister Boldheart, promise to let the Will of Gloreth guide me in my training. I join the Institute so that I may protect my Kingdom, and not for glory.”
The oath. The boy (Ballister, Ballister Boldheart, a perfect knight’s name) is swearing the oath, in front of the Queen and live before the entire Kingdom. The Queen accepts his oath, and addresses the assembled reporters. “No, he doesn’t come from noble blood. But he just might have the heart of a hero.” She smiles at Ballister, and he smiles back, and the bees that now seem to permanently reside in Ambrosius' chest buzz and buzz.
The feeling increases as it begins to sink in what this means. The boy is being sworn in as a cadet to train as a knight. Which means that when Ambrosius goes to the Institute after breakfast to begin his first real day of training…
Ballister will be there.