The Paladinic Order, Infamous and revered hand of Svet, known for forcefully spreading their doctrine, stands apart from Złoto's military.
These chosen individuals, marked by the blessings of divine through Światło's blood, receive their power only upon the successful completion of The Obeisance Rite.
And Kai'len will soon undergo it, to become a full-fledged paladin.
"Cherish your neighbors, honor your friends—Their hands will lift you when fate is against you."
Alexander's voice echoed in Kai'len's mind. After all, he wasn't just his father—he was his mentor, and in Kai'len's eyes...
"The strongest man he had ever known."
The families exited the church and the teenagers kept up with their youthful banters.
"Why is Liam so nervous!" Celeste spoke aloud in a cheeky voice.
"Hey, that's enough," Gareth said, his tone already taking on that of a protective older brother.
"Not fun!" Celeste slightly pouting.
Liam, on the other hand, was deep red.
But Lyn'chael, ever the exuberant one walked just slightly beside him with a grin on her face.
"Pudding time!" Lyn'chael declared with excitement as if there were no greater joy than dessert.
Indeed, she seems quite desperate for that pudding.
"Pu-pudding?! Can I join?!" Celeste innocently asked with gleaming eyes.
"Of course!" Lyn'chael with a quick response—looking forward to her dearest friend joining them.
Meanwhile, the adults listened to the exchange with fondness as they were grateful that their children had formed such strong bonds of friendship.
"Pudding? I wouldn't mind having one," Roderick said casually.
"What are you, a child, Roderick?" His wife, Priscilla, spoke back, though she was simply being a playful wife, as she tries to nudge Roderick's left shoulder.
"Never too old or young for pudding, dare I say!" Alexander proudly spoke, his good-natured humor showing, while Ana'lyn kept a watchful eye on the sea of attendees.
Looking for the robed stranger, unable to forgive him for what he had done.
"Mother, can I come with them?" Celeste asked for permission.
"Certainly, just don't be late in the afternoon," Priscilla answered with a graceful tone, giving her daughter exactly what she wanted to hear.
Celeste's face lit up with joy!
"Gareth, Liam, how about some pudding?" Roderick asked his two boys.
"I'm good, Father. I'd love to rest for a bit," Gareth responded with a small shrug, but then his eyes turned to Liam.
"Just admit it—you want to go eat pudding with the Imperia family," Gareth whispered in Liam's ear.
Liam was being glanced at by everyone, his mind deciding the situation, but he knew he needed to come up with an excuse.
"Ah! Haha, I'll go have pudding with Celeste. I'll walk her home afterwards!" he blurted out with a nervous smile.
"How kind~ of you!" Celeste didn't stop her teasing, leaving the adults amused.
All the while, on the left, Kai'len was only half-listening. He kept fidgeting his fingers, paranoid that he might've been cursed.
"Hopefully, I'm still able to live a long and healthy life,"
"It sucks that I'm gonna die a virgin,"
Thud!
Suddenly, he felt an arm drape over his shoulder—it was Gareth.
"You've been quiet for a while."
He was startled but quickly composed himself. "I'm hungry," he said, brushing it off.
Kai'len wasn't sure whether to bring up what had happened within the service. It wasn't exactly something he felt comfortable sharing—besides, this was Gareth.
He'd definitely go looking for the stranger. Because this man does not let his friends be mistreated.
Gareth, happy to see his brother from another mother in good spirits, released his grip. "Glad to hear it. I thought you were feeling down with all those years of being single."
"What is wrong with you?!"
Kai'len felt that...
Like a dagger deep into his heart...
"Just pulling your leg," Gareth said, followed by a friendly tap on Kai'len's shoulder.
But then Gareth spoke again.
"Good luck on your ritual."
"..."
..."Thanks—"
The ritual...
"I have a duel scheduled for tomorrow—"
Kai'len was 17, the age when young paladin trainees took their first steps towards receiving the Światian Crest.
The holy power of the Paladinic Order.
An intricate, glowing white symbol would be engraved onto the back of their hand, bestowing upon them the Light Aspect—and its seven divine arts.
But it's not as simple; there are steps to take.
The Obeisance Rite...
Over the next seven days, Kai'len will face a series of tests. If he passes all six, the ritual for the Światian Crest will commence on the seventh day.
Tomorrow marks the commencement of the first test, where he shall be tested through the execution of the Seven Cardinal Arts, the formal sword stances of the Paladinic Order.
The duel would be decided through the Seven Cardinal Arts, each stance embodying a Paladin's discipline, devotion, and mastery over both body and spirit.
"Who am I going to be facing tomorrow..."
But... Kai'len wasn't truly faithful. The fear of failure gnawed at him—what if he couldn't pass the Rite? His parents had invested so much in him, and the thought of disappointing them was unbearable. What would the Church do? Would they cast him aside, a failure and be forgotten? The weight of it all crushed him, leaving him wondering if he was even worthy of the life they'd mapped out for him.
"The ritual is all too much..."
Yet... amidst all the burdens Kai'len hold, one affliction festered most—his deep disdain for the Paladinic Order and the theocracy's cruel decree.
The notion that Paladins... Are forbidden from marrying.
Forbidden from lust and intimacy.
Rob from the affection of a lover, traded it for eternal servitude upon his birth.
"I never had the option to love, as Father told me that there's nothing he can do—it's the will and desire of the church,"
"If I go against it, I'll drag them all down with me,"
But the question remains: "Father... never told me how he was allowed to marry Mom, the same as Sir Roderick."
Kai'len walked in silence, his head lowered, lost in thought. The world around him seemed distant, a mere blur despite the vibrant autumn colors dancing in the wind.
The Paladinic Order is passed down through apprenticeship or a selection process from devout families by the church. From the age of 7, children begin their training under the watchful eye of a senior paladin.
Over the course of ten years, they are prepared both physically and mentally for the Obeisance Rite, and if they successfully complete the ritual, it marks their formal initiation into becoming full pledged paladins.
Paladins bear the Światian Crest. In its early stages, the crest emits a soft white glow. Through faith, servitude, and dedication to the church, along with upholding the values in the second book of the Światian Codex, The Book of Servitude, it gradually evolves.
"The second book of the Światian Codex… I've always wondered how it differs from the first book, which covers visions and laws. The second book, titled Servitude, is where, as Father has told me, the mechanism of the holy language, Luxon, originated."
Once one becomes a paladin, it becomes their obligation to study the Second Book of the Światian faith—a text only accessible to those who serve the Church directly.
Kai'len looked around; they were nearing the plaza in East Leuvana.
He continued with his thoughts. "The crest will be embedded on the same hand the stranger touched. Should I be worried about that?"
At first, the crest bestows enhanced physical capabilities and resistance to mental corruption, but its true importance lies in granting access to the power of the Light Aspect. Initially, New paladins can harness the first Art of Light, and as their crest evolves, they can ascend through Art 4.
Upon reaching the pinnacle of their growth (Art 4), a Paladin becomes eligible for Consecration, a sacred ceremony conducted by the Pope.
The Światian Crest undergoes a second evolution, unlocking Arts 5 through 7 of the Light Aspect.
This is the point of a senior paladin.
Only the Pope, the sole keeper of the Third Book of the Światian Codex, holds the authority to perform the Consecration Ritual.
Yet there exists one rank higher still within the Paladinic Order—an echelon reserved for those singular souls whose devotion and servitude have lifted them unto the very threshold of divinity. These exalted paladins, demi-gods in all but name, are the sacred pillars upon which the theocratic might of Svet securely rests.
The Saint Paladins, they remain an enigma, their numbers unknown. Yet, two names stand above the rest—Sven the Titan and Sha'll Mae, the Purifier. Rumors spread that these legendary figures were raised by an angel who once walked the mortal world.
As the two families made their way through the streets of East Leuvana, admiring the fall season, they caught the smell of fresh bread and roasted nuts from the market square.
They were surrounded by crimson, red, and yellow leaves, with stalls bathed in their colors. By now, Roderick, Priscilla, and Gareth had already parted ways, leaving only Alexander, Ana'lyn, and the younger group continuing towards the plaza.
Kai'len kept to the back of the group, half-listening to Lyn'chael and Celeste's excited chatter about pudding flavors. Liam, still recovering from Celeste's teasing, walked beside them, his hands stuffed into his wool coat pockets.
With every step Kai'len took, he could hardly believe he was already 17—soon to be 18. Thoughts of age, obligation, and faith tangled themselves into his mind. He glanced at his father, who was trying to cheer his wife up with stupid dad jokes.
"You can tune a piano, but you can't tune a fish."
"Honey, shut up~," Ana'lyn said.
"Oh.."
"I'll end up like him in the future," Kai'len worried.
The plaza of the east town was lively, bustling with hustling merchants as well-dressed townsfolk surrounded them.
Everything was still damped; it was trench coat season, although some of the town's folk were coughing excessively, which wasn't a healthy sign.
This part of East Leuvana is much more traditional, but the west side is being filled with machinery and pollution.
They stopped at the pudding vendor, the aroma of the desserts just caught the full attention of the two girls.
"Hmmm~"
"They smell so good!" Lyn'chael remarked.
The humble vendor stood behind a wooden cart, steam was rising from the large brass pot where a treacle sponge pudding simmered.
The vendor was a Stout man in a well-worn coat, a flat cap atop his head, and flour dust clinging to his sleeves.
"Fresh pudding, warm and sweet! A proper treat for this fine autumn day!"
The girls practically bounced on their heels, while Alexander prepared the payment and Liam just watched in awe, waiting for whatever Lyn'chael ordered.
Because his gonna order the same thing.
They were seeing eye candies as the vendor lifted the steaming pudding off the pot and carefully placed the golden sponge onto a porcelain plate. The treacle glistened as it dripped down its soft... pillowy... sides.
Lyn'chael—excited!
"Patience, young lady," the vendor reached for a silver ladle.
Celeste leaned against the counter, her fingers tapping idly.
"I dunno, sir, I think she might pass out if you take much longer."
"Hey!" Surprised by Celeste's words, Lyn'chael playfully shook her.
"Wah!, wah!, wah!" This is Celeste being shaken.
"So mean!" Lyn'chael said, pouting.
The vendor was delighted with his customers as if seeing them brightened his labor-intensive days.
The small things in life could bring a good smile.
He poured a thick stream of warm custard over the pudding, which looked delicious as it pooled around the edges.
"There we are! A proper treacle sponge pudding, just as they serve in the grand halls of Svet—though I dare say mine's better."
The two girls were having a great time.
"So delicious!"
Soon, the others—Alexander, Ana'lyn, and Kai'len—also received their puddings.
All of them enjoying the warm treat.
"It's delicious," Liam said, savoring the sweet custard. He thanked the Imperia family for inviting him and his sister, to which Ana'lyn assured him, "It's our pleasure."
"Papa, why not buy more so they can take some home?" Lyn'chael's suggestion.
But sweat started forming on Alexander's face.
"Wait a minute, darling, I have a very important question to ask."
He turned to the vendor. "My good sir, how much does all of this pudding cost?"
"That would be 20 Marks, including the extra the young lady suggested."
:(
"Holy molly, that's a whole crown," Alexander mentally, shattered.
"Alexander, we're not poor—why the sudden face?"
Indeed, Ana'lyn was right; they weren't poor, but Alexander was still conscious about money.
Growing up poor will give you that kind of mentality.
In the territories of Svet, wealth flows through the hands of merchants, nobles, and common folk alike in the form of meticulously crafted coins and finely pressed banknotes.
At the pinnacle of currency lies the Crown (₵), a luscious-looking gold piece, its center designed with the image of a Seraphim, symbolizing its high value.
But in this system, where 20 Marks make up a Crown, it can just as easily be spent on the extravagant indulgence of… many puddings...
Alexander hesitantly handed over the Crown, pulling it from his leather wallet before passing it to the vendor.
"Pleasure doing business with you, sir," the vendor said, his smile so bright it could block out the sun.
"I'll do anything to protect the happiness of my daughter!"
Beneath the Crown (₵) lies the Mark (M), a silver coin and the dominant currency for everyday trade. Like the Crown, it is designed with a heavenly creature—a Cherubim with four wings at its center.
The Mark is the heartbeat of commerce, commonly spent on garments, a good meal, and tools for everyday use. Each Mark is divided into 12 Trinkets (T), smaller bronze pieces designed with an angel bearing two wings—the second lowest denomination.
These coins line the pockets of laborers, teachers, and street vendors, ensuring the flow of coins never halts.
At the lowest, the humble Token (Tk)—copper coins worn by countless hands. Is the lowest-valued coin, four Tokens make up a Trinket.
A Token doesn't buy much, but oddly enough, its design features a face at its center—Adam, the First Prophet.
Humans are the lowest in the heavenly hierarchy.
But currency is not limited to metal. War is expensive and demands vast sums, far beyond what precious metals alone can sustain. Thus, paper money was introduced—light, efficient, and capable of carrying immense value without the weight of gold or silver.
At the forefront is the Fivefold (₵5)—a crisp grey note worth five Crowns, commonly used in business deals and investments, designed with an image of the white sky and clouds, the first thing you see in heaven.
Beyond it lies the Gild (₵10)—a prestigious note used for major ventures, depicting serpent-like creatures 'swimming' in the sky, the second sight of heaven.
The Regal (₵20), a mark of stability in noble dealings, bears the Pillars of Creation—the very structure holding heaven.
The Sovereign (₵50), a note of power, held by aristocrats and military officials, bears the image of a golden scale—the symbol of judgment.
At the highest stands the Papal (₵100)—a rare note, its existence tied directly to the Holy Treasury of Svet. Few ever hold one in their lifetime, for it is used only in the grandest of exchanges.
And with it the image of god, the światian cross.
As they all enjoyed their time with the pudding—and Alexander suffered deeply over his spending—Kai'len noticed his mother walking towards the center of the plaza.
There stood a fountain with a statue of a man with broken shackles and wings. The Imperia family visited it every Sunday after mass. It was a marvelous marble sculpture—the statue of an angel. The nameplate had worn away with time, and the only letter still visible.
It was an "A"
Legend said this angel was born from a virgin woman, a true product of miracles.
Kai'len observed closely.
"Mom, I never understood you,"
She never cared during service. She never prayed. She never asked for blessings. Yet here, in front of this grand statue of an angel, she asked.
"Protect my family."
She took out five marks and tossed them into the fountain. She does this every Sunday.
Kai'len looked at the statue, and he asked himself—
"Why does it look like it's always weeping?"
Chapter End.