77 Neva 3 (1/2)
The Will of the True Imperial was growling.
Pulsing.
Resonating.
Elya once mentioned her grandfather suffering from the same affliction. This close to the wizened man dozing off in an armchair, Nikolai could feel the seething power of blood hidden beneath the wrinkled skin and hunched back. He closed his eyes and wrestled with his blood, forcing the Will to calm itself and return to its slumber. The resonance was a common phenomenon when two True Imperials met, but this was the first time Nikolai was almost overwhelmed by the sensation. Whether it was the mutations, his blood was undergoing or the strength of Elya's grandfather he wasn't sure. There were a few True Imperials amongst the War Mages who'd arrived, the condition being more common amongst Imperial Mages, but the resonance then was mild.
He would have to research it.
Later.
Nikolai knelt on the Suzdal training grounds overlooking the cliffs to the south. The rock hard earth dug into his knees painfully and Nikolai clenched his teeth as the aged retainer behind him stumbled through the archaic syntax of some obscure Imperial tradition known as the 'Cleansing'. Jarek leaned on Nikolai's ceremonial sword, already bored with the ceremony. Nikolai could hear the boy humming a Dragon Lord hymn under his breath. A catchy tune Nikolai was tempted to sing along with. The retainer fumbled over a word, drawing groans from their surroundings as he struggled to pronounce the ancient rune for water.
”Kzchthinzek” Nikolai offered helpfully, drawing a glare from Duke Suzdal who sat on an obsidian throne before him. The Duke was dazzling in a set of crystal armour, enchanted with innumerable spells for defence and strengthening, a few of which Nikolai could barely understand. The Duke waved his arm to proceed with such power, it generated huge gusts of wind and Nikolai was forced to close his eyes at the clouds of dust rising in its wake. Which he instantly regretted when ice cold water splashed over him, drenching the light robe he'd changed into. He gasped for breath, shuddering as another Suzdal elder came forth with a bucket of water.
Nikolai was a shivering mess by the time the last of the dozen elders poured water over him.
”Imperials were born in blood, our wings taken by the Unspoken God.” The retainer intoned, switching to the common tongue. A concession to the foreign dignitaries and Dragon Lords watching the ceremony. A vat of Drake blood was dragged before him by two burly Knights, bubbling with power and energy. The beast would have been freshly slaughtered since the blood was only just beginning to disintegrate under the sunlight, crimson spouts of blood writhing from the vat to turn into bursts of hissing steam above his head.
”We toiled as slaves, our horns broken by Zuriel, Goddess of Chains.” An elder gave Jarek a gentle push and whispered instructions. Jarek dragged the sword across the earth, grunting at the effort to draw the ancient rune for binding. Pouring with sweat, the boy handed Nikolai the sword with shaky arms when he was finished before kneeling at his side. The elder who'd instructed him gave Jarek a glass of water and praised him for his help. Jarek smiled and waved at some Dragon Lords in the crowd after the elder was done.