The Vampire & Her Witch

”As a knight, my word is my bond,” Reynold swore. ”I pledge to live a life of virtue, and I dedicate my sword to the defense of these virtues,” Reynold said, persisting through the pain as Aspakos pricked his shoulder with the tip of the spear a third time.

”I promise to fill my heart with Compassion,” Reynold said. ”Never to turn a blind eye to the suffering of others. I will render aid when I am able, and I will care for those who entrust their lives and fortunes to me.”

”I will serve with Integrity,” he continued, finding his rhythm despite the burning sensation that consumed his shoulder as Aspakos continued to prod him. ”My words and deeds will be honest and uncompromised by lies, treachery, deceit, petty ambition, or selfish greed.”

”I will dispense Justice, high and low,” Reynold promised, clenching his hands into fists as pain flared in the wounds on his back. How often had he been forced to turn away from justice because true justice would offend the Church? How many had suffered at the hands of the powerful or influential only for his father to command him to ’let it go’?

”I will listen to all sides,” Reynold continued. ”I will seek the truth. I will temper mercy with fairness, protect victims and punish wrongdoers.”

On Reynold’s back, five distinct wounds bled freely, marking the familiar pattern of the First Warrior’s sword, but the constellation of the First Warrior held more than just those five stars. The tip of the spear moved to Reynold’s opposite shoulder, marking out the first of the stars that defined the First Warrior’s torso.

Among the Stone Guard, several warriors flinched in sympathy when they realized the size of the marking Aspakos intended to make. Many of them had been bound in similar rituals. Some bore brands on their flanks, while others had been marked by needle and ink.

The inflicting of a wound was an important part of the binding, but the size of that wound, the intensity of the pain that accompanied it, and the permanence of the marks it left behind were all part of the ritual. A large wound was no guarantee of great power, but many believed that large, clear markings opened doors to greater heights.

Taghai was such a man. Those among the Stone Guard who had seen his torso were well aware of the tattoo that covered his broad chest and the one that stretched between his shoulder blades. Both were large, impressive pieces, demonstrating his dedication to the First Warrior and the First Watchman. Now, as they watched Aspakos marking Reynold, it seemed as though the human knight would soon be the same.

”I will cultivate the Fortitude of the body and the mind,” Reynold said, taking deep breaths between oaths to regather his strength. ”I will not allow adversity or suffering to sway me from my course. Though the road I walk is difficult, I will not choose an easier path,” he swore.

Here, again, pain flared in his back, following all the way down to the top of his hips beneath the lowest marks Aspakos had made. Despite his best efforts, his body tried to twist and writhe away from the pain, and only the iron grips of Thane and Sybyll kept him in place.

He’d learned all too well that some fights couldn’t be won in Lothian March. He’d turned away from things he shouldn’t have, and when he’d heard the list of Owain Lothian’s crimes read out, it had become painfully obvious how much he’d willfully ignored. The pain he felt now was his punishment for that blissful ignorance.

His days wandering the Southern Steppe had been his ’easier path.’ It was easier to distance himself from the rot spreading through the march by focusing his attention south. He could lose himself for months at a time in the tall grasses and pretend that he had nothing to do with the vile schemes of his fellow noblemen.

No more.

From today forward, there would be no escaping to distant lands. His oaths would follow him everywhere, and torment him when he fell short of honoring them.

It was one thing to try and fail, but never again could he fail to try.

”I will face my oaths with Courage and conviction,” Reynold promised. ”On the field of battle, I will retreat when wise, but not when afraid. In life, I will face the consequences of my actions without flinching, and I will make no excuses for the virtues that led me to act.”

”These things I swear,” Reynold said, his voice growing louder and stronger with each word. ”As a man, as a lord, as a warrior, and as a knight!”

”So it is spoken, and so the pact is made,” Aspakos said, turning the spear in his hands as he slowly made a long, shallow cut that connected each of the previous wounds he’d inflicted on Reynold in the shape of the constellation of the First Warrior.

This time, however, the wound did not bleed. Instead, the wound filled with bright, silvery starlight that grew brighter and brighter with each ’star’ that Aspakos connected the line to.

”From today, and for the rest of your days,” Aspakos said formally. ”You may call yourself a Warrior,” he said, emphasizing the term in a way that gave the title the same gravity that humans used for a knight.

On Reynold’s back, the constellation grew brighter and brighter, bathing the stone platform in silvery radiance before it faded away, sinking deeply into Reynold’s flesh. When the last of the light finally vanished, what remained on Reynold’s skin wasn’t a bloody wound, but a long, raised scar, marked with several distinct points for the stars of the constellation.

”Rise Lord Reynold,” Aspakos said, nodding at Thane and Sybyll as they helped the young knight to his feet. ”Rise a warrior, a knight, and now, a sorcerer,” he said in a tone that held a bit of pride.

Around the stone platform, scattered applause rose from both sides of the platform. The knights and armsmen of Aleese weren’t certain how to feel about watching their lord participate in a heretical ritual. The Church and the Inquisition would have executed Reynold on the spot for what he’d just become. And yet... ℯℯ𝑙.

It was hard to feel offended by it. The oath he’d spoken was almost word for word the same as the one he’d spoken when he became a knight. The virtues he pledged to uphold were good and worthy things. The ritual scarification and the strange light that seeped into his skin were uncomfortably strange... but none of it felt wicked.

The Stone Guard greeted the moment with similarly conflicted hearts. It was always a joyous thing to witness the birth of a warrior, or the moment anyone set their feet firmly on the path of a constellation in the hopes that one day, they could call themselves a master. Many of them remembered their own ceremonies with pride.

But to see this proud moment and sacred ritual performed for one of their most despised enemies... That robbed the moment of something precious and replaced it with a deep sense of wrongness.

”You see, Lord Dirar,” Aspakos said, returning his question to the unresolved issue at hand. ”Lord Reynold is well suited to the ways of your people. He follows many of them already. He just needed a little help to set his feet on the path, and he’s certain to go far.”

”I can think of no one better to follow you as your apprentice,” Aspakos said, turning back to Reynold as he held out the jewel-studded spear with both of his taloned hands. ”Nor can I think of a more worthy successor as the next Captain of your Stone Guard...”