"Get on with it!" someone yelled.
Everyone laughed. Master Merlon frowned down at the students.
"As we all know, this has been a difficult year, with many trials for all of us." The students sobered. "The decision process to select this year’s Lorename has been terribly hard. I have seen intricate enchantments, works of art, the sharpest zenblade, the strongest armoursilk." He paused for dramatic effect. "Finally, though, we have come to a conclusion."
The graduates hushed in expectation. Amber squeezed Ella’s hand.
"This year’s Golden Lorename is..." Master Merlon paused, enjoying the suspense. "Torsten Alfoll!"
The graduates cheered. A blushing Torsten ascended the steps to the podium. Master Merlon shook his hand, and gave him a silver scrill, beautifully worked. "Congratulations, Torsten. May this scrill aid the working of wonderful enchantments."
The graduates clapped, a group of Torsten’s friends whooping loudly, causing him some embarrassment. Torsten shook hands with each of the masters in turn, and then descended the podium to resounding applause.
"Which makes this year’s Emerald Lorename, our top graduate…" Master Merlon drew it out, and then smiled down at her. "Ella Goodwin."
It was Brandon’s last name. The graduates clapped all the louder. They had seen her best Master Goss. They had seen her take the pain of the Block.
Amber looked on with undisguised envy, smiling and clapping. "Go on, go up!"
Ella ascended the podium, a shocked expression on her face. Master Merlon smiled and as he shook her hand the crowd roared.
Master Merlon gave her a sealed crystal bottle, half the size of her hand, intricately designed. Ella couldn’t believe it when she saw the black liquid inside. Essence!
Ella shook hands with each of the masters in turn. As she shook Master Goss’s hand he leaned forward to speak into her ear.
"That armoursilk, I have never…" He shook his head, momentarily lost for words, finally saying only, "We expect great things of you, young lady."
The day was finally complete when Ella, descending the steps of the podium, saw a tall figure with dark hair at the back of the crowd, a wide smile on his face. Miro.
Ella smiled broadly, just for him.
~
IT was the first time the three of them had been together in what felt like an age. As they sat under the shade of a centurion tree, Ella realised it was probably the last time she would sit like this, a student of the Academy taking ease in the Great Court. She felt a strange feeling of sadness overcome her.
"I can’t believe they let you get away!" Amber was saying. She sat close to Miro, their legs touching. He didn’t move away.
"I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be." He grinned. There was no mention of Amber’s wedding.
They shared each other’s company for the entire afternoon. Drinking honeywine. Laughing together. It was the happiest day of Ella’s life.
The winter sun started to drift down towards the horizon, and as the day grew dim, the talk turned dark. It was on everyone’s mind.
The war.
The Emperor had acted with unbelievable speed, surprising everyone. Miro said High Lord Legasa had predicted it. In waiting, they had lost the initiative.
The combined forces of Raj Tingara and Raj Torakon had occupied the Azure Plains. It was coming to be called the Black Army. Rumours about its nature were in abundance. They said it was devoid of the usual imperial pomp, that the legionnaires had doffed their purple for black, and that the Toraks in the army also wore black, in a new display of unity and force.
They marched under a new standard, a white sun on a black background. The sun was the symbol of the Evermen, and people wondered what the Primate thought of the use of the holy symbol, and waited for the leader of the Assembly of Templars to speak out against this growing evil.
The builders set up defences on the plains, looking up at the Ring Forts. They assembled great bastions: spiked barricades and impossibly tall watchtowers, reinforced with lore. They constructed fearsome war machines: mobile towers, catapults and ballistae. They dug tunnels and trenches, and every day the Toraks could be seen assessing the fortresses above them, analysing their weaknesses, looking for where they could exploit any flaws in the matrices.
The imperial legion numbered in the ten of thousands, the strongest specimens in a race known for its strength, equipped with swords and spears, shields and heavy armour — much of it enchanted.
Greedily taking the Emperor’s money, the artificers of Loua Louna supplied the legion with their most vicious devices: prismatic orbs, mortars and runebombs. Dirigibles floated above the Azure Plains, ready to rain death down on any enemy.