The 19th of Adar

[Craig]

It was early morning on the 19th of Adar. On most years, this day would sail past without thought or notice. In a couple of days time, the Feast of Freia would be celebrated in other lands, but not here in the Tower. This should have been another day like any other, yet it was not. Sun began to breach past the horizon, lighting the reflective Grey Tower from its tip downwards.

A short distance from the Tower stood the Warder Yards. It paled in comparison to the Grey Tower. It was smaller than the Tower proper, and smaller than the Novices and Soldiers' Quarters too. The Tower espoused that it was a place where channellers of both genders could work together, and that their Warders stood as equals. It didn't seem that way for one man, as he looked up towards the Grey Tower from the balcony of the Warder Hall. It would be some time before sunlight illuminated his office. He smiled faintly at the thought. This office would not be his for much longer.

Even at this hour, there were servants working. A great deal of busy work was happening. It would have fit right in if this were a feast day. Normally it was not, but today there would be a celebration. The man scoffed audibly. He turned from the sight of the Grey Tower and the day's preparations, striding for one last time into his soon-to-be former office.

Back in his private study, Ravak felt his heart sink. By all rights he had a reason for good cheer. This was the day of his inauguration. By his count, he was about to be made the Grey Tower's twentieth Master of Arms. What greater accomplishment could a Gaidin of the Grey Tower seek if not that?

Rav placed a hand against the wall that divided his study from Riahana's. The physical distance he was about to move was minute, yet the responsibility that came with it gave him good reason to pause. Or it should have. Honestly, he wasn't concerned about becoming one of the three leaders of the Grey Tower. The responsibility and authority the office wielded did not place him into a state of shock nor give him the corrupting taste of power. He was more concerned about this feast that was about to occur in his honour. He grumbled at the thought that this had anything to do with honour.

Moving through into his office proper, Rav gave the empty room a mournful look. He didn't recognise it without his desk and tables. It seemed hollow, which somewhat mirrored his own feelings. The cause of this emptiness in his gut was unknown to him, but it wasn't fear and it wasn't from worry. He frowned as he was wont to do as he turned the door handle for the last time. "May the last embrace of the mother welcome you home," he uttered quietly, before he stepped out of the door for good.

[Craig]

Ravak was the first one through the door, as was customary. What wasn't customary was the lack of searching for intruders, nor the way he deposited himself unceremoniously into his chair. Or at least he attempted to, except that his scabbards got in the way. He tugged his sword belt off whilst the door closed after him, the new Master of Arms barely noticing his bondmate following him into their apartments.

Weapons cast off, Ravak dropped into his chair. His right hand rose to massage one temple, whilst the other hand drummed its fingers against the chair's arm. Teeth grinded audibly within the confines of his skull.

For a man of thirty-six years, his demeanour was simultaneously one of a man much older and a boy far younger. He was grouchy to put it mildly; tired of people bowing to him as if he was a hero of legend returned to life. He also wanted to break something in order to relieve the stress of going through that awful ceremony. Who was that all for? He had never cared for the pomp and circumstance of such events. He wasn't some preening noble that needed to be reminded just how important his peers thought he was. Rav detested those sorts of people. Was this to become habit now, every one of his peers suddenly bending knee to him at every occasion.

A pain began to press through his upset. He glanced at his left hand. It was pale white from gripping so hard around the arm of his chair. His gaze continued upwards towards the other person in the room, only now remembered. Rav removed the scowl from his face, but it didn't clear the fury in his mind. "Tell me all days will not be like this," he pleaded. "I'm just a man. I'm not Artur Hawkwing or Jain Farstrider. I don't want to be an Artur Hawkwing or Jain Farstrider. Light, I don't recall Riahana going through all of this bluster." He removed his hand from the chair's arm, reaching up to massage his other temple. Maybe if he pressed against his skull hard enough, everyone would return to normality.

For Mia, there was something strangely familiar about this change, yet not. It drew in memories of Caden Ives, but she swiftly pushed them away. It was a pain she did not wish to recall. Her kin had chosen to step aside and now her bondmate had taken up that mantle, with all the annoyance that one would have expected of him.

Moving nearer to the chair, she nudged his shoulder with her hip and sat on the armrest. “It will not always be like this,” she assured him with a faint curve of a smile. “They like to make a big issue of it at the first, but then all returns to normal and the everyday.”

"The sooner the better," Rav muttered, only partially convinced.