☀️ Arselia and Akonia

- Uh-huh, thank youuu.
Upon waking, Garrett and Harold discover prepared potions under the thresholds of their rooms.

"Eh, kind soul, didn't leave any for herself, even though I offered. Well, I hope it doesn't come back to bite her." - with this thought, Garrett picked up his potion and knocked on the door of the neighboring room, notifying his younger brother that it was time to head to the initiation ceremony.
Rejoicing that the honestly won prize had returned to him, Harold took Arselia's dew and immediately drank it for +10 speed, before his brother could convince him to give it away again.

-- Do you swear, while serving in the Carneol order, to uphold the ideals of knighthood and preserve your honor, and the honor of the organization? Do you swear, while serving in the Carneol order, to be loyal to the order, listen to superiors, help equals, and respect subordinates? Do you swear, while serving in the Carneol order, not to use force without need, but to use said force without hesitation to fulfill this oath and for the protection of Margel?

- ..I swear... I swear... - Harold repeated monotonically in response to the oath's questions, while his thoughts spun restlessly. Upon completing his initiation, he didn't wait for his brother's turn; leaving the room, he turned onto a small balcony and fished out a lighter along with a cigarette, flipping the lid with a soft click to spark a flame.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Serving Carneol, then? Hmm... An important clarification."
The first puff of smoke drifted into the November morning sky.
"Since everything is so official here, I probably need to fill out some piece of paper to make a clean exit if the time comes. Otherwise, I'll be executed on the spot as an oath-breaker - and just like that, the church-woman will be welcomed into the house, one of those who, as my brother emphatically suggested, sleep and dream of seeing his dear self scattered into atoms. Paranoid delusions? That's just like him, though knowing him, there's no smoke without fire. I don't believe he spent six months performing exclusively heroic deeds and didn't leave a trail of filth anywhere. And if he didn't... Then either he's gone a bit loopy, or it really isn't him, but some damn golem made of space-ore."

The second cloud slowly dissipates against the background of the rising sun. Although the knighting ceremonies are in full swing below, the street is still relatively quiet - the city is gradually waking up after the festival.
"And this really feels like madness, damn it. No clue what kind of filth he was doing with his figurine and... my skull? Yikes, better not even imagine it. And his behavior is a total non sequitur, walking around like your friendly neighborhood alien, even making some clumsy benevolent gestures. I'm playing along with the scam, of course, but it seems to me that this isn't some disguise, and he's already in over his head. And the reason? An adventurer's love for excitement, where in the vast majority of cases he either gets thrashed or loses his gear, or both? No, there must be something else. He would have bolted long ago if he didn't like something, instead of sitting here for six months; he's not the type to willingly eat cactus and ask for seconds. A luxurious den? With all these arsonists and thieves, that's somewhat questionable. A stable income? That's why he headed to the tourney in hobo-gear, and I even had to chip in for him with that foreigner. Some stupid challenge, maybe? Nah, that's nonsense too."

Another stream of smoke is gently carried away by the breeze. It was getting cold - a side effect of newly regained flesh, just as these reflections were a side effect of a revived brain.
"It looks more like he's fallen into a dead-end trap and is desperately spinning in place, trying to both stand on a mine and dodge silver bullets. He can hardly do otherwise now, he didn't even dare to properly demand back the power of the Unnameable, and is simply glad to still be alive. Is that it? Considering the situation with his 'fired' partner, I wouldn't be surprised if there were precedents before where one wrong step meant execution on the spot. And now we're both stewing in this cauldron because he decided this was the only acceptable path... Apparently, during his time on Anuzish, his brain was so scrambled that he might actually take the moves dictated by his pawn as an indisputable blessing and a great honor, but if I understand his thinking correctly, all this is nothing more than a choice of one, while anything else is a predictable outcome. Well, pray, brother, pray that you did everything right and won us a future. Though the Asterians don't pray."

-- When the dragon saw you, it lost its destructive powers, as if its blood froze, as if its magic dried up and turned to stone; such was the power of your gaze. Now, in the name of Her Majesty Empress Naria es Diesra Arual, you, Garrett, are named a Basilisk Knight of the Carneol order.

Harold returned to the ceremony just as his elder brother was solemnly named a Basilisk Knight. Filled with honor, Garrett bows to the grandmaster and returns to his brother with a blazing gaze.
— There we go. Now we are officially knights. This time we have real chances to carve out a good destiny for ourselves. Recognized status, a reliable company, and high-level service - we step over our personal ceilings and ascend. Rejoice, brother, you shall be our Basilisk-Junior.
— Cool. I'll have to take down some terrifying enemy of the state to earn my own pompous title.