It had taken far more time, effort, and sweat than Rovias could have possibly anticipated when he'd set out to construct the pathway between Descendant and Ancient, but his unyielding resolve and wit had proven too much even for the realm of the Gods to stifle with their mystery and ambiguity. The rewards he'd reaped? A single chest, secured in the small one-seater wagon that the High Mage now rode down the steep and winding roads descending from the Tower overlooking Valenntenia. Within was not treasure or weapons of conventional means. Instead, only a dozen square-shaped stones sat patiently, awaiting the hands of a chosen few who would ascend from Vanguard, and become a new breed: An In-Between.
Commander Willowood had been so gracious, with enough gentle prodding, to gather several of his most promising soldiers from the Central Barracks in The Province and send them promptly to the castle that now loomed in the distance, growing ever closer as Rovias neared the shoreside Headquarters of the Vanguard as a whole; The Stalwart Bastion was where the Vanguard had been founded centuries ago, home of the fellowship of Descendant Warriors who had safeguarded Valenntenia from harm in the city's infancy. Nowadays, it serves as the beating heart of Valenntenia's military, where the highest-ranking warriors made their home, and where the operations of the Vanguard were directed every day.
It was a rare honor for the everyday soldier to set foot within its hallowed walls; Rovias was certain those chosen would attend as requested. Which of them were worthy, he wondered? The curse of curiosity only drove him to ride faster, thundering toward the imposing structure of the ancient fortress, a growing smile on his lips as he felt the stones thrumming impatiently in the chest behind him.
"Vanguard, In formation!"
Legionnaire Ceres was not a man who prided himself on patience for the undisciplined. The Bastion was placed under his dutiful care for good reason, and while Rhenn Willowood had personally vouched for the ability and loyalty of all of the men and women who now filed into a line against the dimly lit wall of the entrance hall, he took the former Disease Guardian's endorsement with the smallest grain of salt possible. He wouldn't have any of them compromising the safety of The Bastion, and by extension, Valenntenia. Not on his life.
"You lot have been chosen for a very special, and I will add, very classified assignment this evening. Commander Willowood has selected each of you for your outstanding power of will, loyalty to your home, and ability on the field of battle." Ceres paced back and forth in front of the line of Vanguard soldiers, never meeting their eyes, his gaze only forward and his hands locked behind his back. "As you all know, our way of life is spearheaded by the Fifteen Guardians of The Runestone. Fifteen. A number small enough that it is a rare occasion when one of us is selected to take up that mantle, and wield the tools of our creators."
As Ceres spoke, the sound of a horse and wagon poured through the open gates of The Bastion, as several idle Vanguard elite scurried from the chamber to help unload the precious cargo that had just arrived. The High Mage, no doubt, was the courier. Ceres had no doubt Ser Rovias would wish to be present himself for this experiment, given he'd shaped the things with his own hands. So long as the arrogant young mage did not step on his toes, that was permissible.
Finally, the Legionnaire's eyes set upon those who'd been selected, his nose upturning at the rather ragtag lot of them.
"Today, we bridge that gap. The Tower has finally seen fit to provide our Vanguard with a means to use our ancestors' magic, albeit in a limited capacity, to prepare those who may be deemed worthy of Guardianship for that lofty title. You here today, will be among the first of our ranks to wield these new Runestones, to prove your mettle to the Somners and Absalon, and reserve yourself a seat amongst the elite pantheon who will be written into history."
A wooden chest was rolled in on a cart, pulled by two armored figures, and a slender young man draped in violet and gold. Already his eyes set upon the chosen.
"Apologies for my lateness, my friends. I think you'll find the gifts I bear to be a satisfactory compensation..."
