As I stepped out of the doorway and onto the grass of the terrace, I wasn’t noticed at first. Sure, a few people gave me curious glances among the guests, but very few of them knew me. They’d heard about me through the grapevine of Blutstein, but very few were actually aware of what was going on here. The’d simply been informed by one of my former comrades in the Nocturne Division that there was a business opportunity to be discussed here, with the possibility to do some good for the city. They knew that this property belonged to Sir Nathaniel Hart, Calamity Slayer and apprentice to the Headmaster of the Academy. But very little else than that.

  That would change soon.

  I raised one hand in signal, first to the local band I’d hired, and then to the servers. The music gradually began to slow in response, while the hired staff smoothly retreated to the sidelines. I’d told both groups that they were welcome to stay for the announcements, so they didn’t have to leave. After all, I was going to need some people to help get the rumor mill running, and they would do just fine. The silence only grew when Fade, at my mental signal, drew the small horde of children further away from the party so the adults could get to work. A few heads among the guests began to turn, and gradually, eyes started to fall on me.

  I kept my gait smooth and the smile on my lips slight and confident, as the butt of my staff thumped into the grass below. The band had finished packing up by the time I reached the small stage assembled before the tables. They bowed out of the way, hopping off to join the servers off to the side, and I thanked them with a quiet nod and a smile.

  And then, finally, I pivoted in place…to stare out at the small crowd of expectant eyes staring up at me.

  Some of which I knew.

  Many of which I didn’t.

  Either way….

  It was showtime.

  My smile widened, and I bowed fluidly at the waist to my guests, sweeping out the hand not holding my staff as I did so. I think they were a bit startled at the distinctly theatrical gesture, but…there was a certain image I wanted to perpetuate of me, as I fought to found this venture.

  Grey was viewed as academic and standoffish.

  Shacklock was viewed as martial and deranged.

  I…wanted to be viewed as theatrical and gregarious.

  Even if it was only half true at best.

  “Good evening, honored friends and guests!” I projected jovially, raising one hand in greeting to the crowd. In response, I received a smattering of confused greetings and more than one deadpan look from those closest to me. In particular, I could see Azarus was already rolling his eyes, as he guessed where I was taking this.

  He’d seen me like this before, after all.

  I tsked at the crowd, shaking my head faux-disappointedly. “Is that all you have to say? It’s a grand day, full of light, life, and opportunity! Tarus shines above, the scent of Fall is on the breeze, and we’re gathered here together with good food, good company, and good entertainment! A round of applause, if you please, for the musical stylings of the Western Tower Minstrels, who graciously agreed to attend today!”

  That generated a more genuine applause from the crowd, accompanied by a few laughs as the guests started to get more comfortable with me. I didn’t know much about Herztalian musical tradition, but the Minstrels had seemed decent enough. Very…pipey. At the very least, the party appeared to have enjoyed them. In response to the applause, the small five-person band bowed in thanks.

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “Indeed, indeed, it’s been a pleasant evening. However, where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself yet! I!” I said, spreading my arms wide and winking at the crowd. “Am Sir Nathaniel Hart! And as you might’ve guessed, I was the one to call this little soiree. I thank you for agreeing to attend, when you likely know so little about me. I know you likely only came at the behest of our mutual fellows,” I said, sweeping out an arm toward them. “Another round of applause, if you please, for Ms. Maria Rellani, Ms. Liora Valen, and Mr. Alexander Garrack! Without them, this wouldn’t have been possible!”

  A few more laughs, as the named rose from their seats and waved to the crowd, either just as theatrical as I, deeply embarrassed at the attention, or even simply uncomfortable before the weight of eyes and sound of applause.

  Now.

  Time to ratchet up the atmosphere.

  As they sat down, I turned a gaze toward the source of our legitimacy. “And, of course, who could forget our patron? Another round, my friends, for our very special guest, Princess Isolde of the Eisenherz Dynasty. Take a bow, your Highness!”

  There it was. The stuttering, stunned atmosphere and applause I’d been looking for, as the crowd realized who was in their midst. After all, Isolde hadn’t advertised her presence, either during the party itself or in the run-up to it. The invitations hadn’t said a word about her being here.

  Which was deliberate. I hadn’t wanted word of her to leak. If it had, there would have been far more people who would have chosen to attend, likely for the wrong reasons. Isolde was royalty, while I was just a particularly promising Classer who apparently had a business opportunity.

  Herztalians admired their royalty in a way that was alien to my Terran sensibilities. Which was part of the reason the Construct War had been so painful to this culture, really.

  Isolde smoothly rose from her place among the former spies and assassins, looking perfectly at ease and wearing a perfect smile. She had eschewed the rough and tumble look she favored these days for some more…relatable, to the working business class of Herztal. Yes, indeed, my fellows, this was a place where a Princess could feel comfortable enough to wear simple dresses and quite literally let her hair down.

  I think, if anything, her casual, friendly waving to the crowd stunned them more than anything so far.

  I bowed at the waist once more, this time in her direction, with my free arm folded across my waist. “Thank you for coming to this occasion, Your Highness. I’m sure we’re all very grateful for your attendance.”

  That finally snapped the guests out of their stupor, and they proceeded to get their feet and clap with greater enthusiasm than anything so far. There were even a few real-sounding cheers.

  Isolde bore it with all the grace of hundreds of hours of social training, wearing a practiced smile and performing a practiced wave. I think I was the only one, though, who noticed the ever-so-slightly dour look she threw me in between all of that.

  I restrained the urge to laugh at her. She had agreed to this.

  Suck it up.

  However, she wasn’t the point, and the applause was going a little long. Channeling the required Mana and shaping it to my will, I cast a little spell I had workshopped for a somewhat…dramatic purpose, a week or so back. I didn’t even have a name for it, really. The form was really just an off the cuff variation on a type of instant cast Ward spell, meant to amplify sound and typically used on podiums as a form of almost magical microphone. However, instead of speaking into the Spell, I anchored it to the butt of my staff.

  And tapped it several times on the wood of the stage.

  The result was something akin to an extremely loud gavel banging against the bench of a particularly irate judge. It easily cut through the sound of the appreciation sent Isoldes' way, causing numerous heads to swivel back toward me, startled.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I just smiled at them. “I’m sure the Princess is appreciative of your devotion, my friends, but her presence here isn’t the point of this gathering. Rather, she is here to witness the same thing you all are. Now,” I said, bowling through the sheepishness I could see rising in some members of the crowd before it could settle in. “What is that business, you might be asking yourself? After all, I’ve done nothing but stand here and bloviate at you for the last several minutes. Surely, this is nothing more than a simple business meeting, meant to strengthen everyone’s position in markets.” Abruptly, I let the smile on my face die, to be replaced by a serious mien. “No. What I am here to propose to you is not a simple matter at all. In fact, I would say that it has the power to change the course of Herztalian society. Most assuredly, it would change the face of Blutstein. I am talking…about the foundation of a new royally recognized Martial Order.”

  There had been a few people muttering amongst themselves in confusion before, but now that died. Silence swept over the gathering, then, and shock spread across many faces. The only thing audible was the distant cries of playful children and the barks of their caretaker. I noticed that more than a few heads drifted back over to Isolde, this time with realization.

  She just met them with a raised eyebrow.

  I smiled briefly before I let it fall away. “With the Construct War finally, truly concluded, we stand at the precipice of stability. However…I’m sure that many of you are aware of the rumblings on the horizon, and the thread of vulnerability threatening to tear our footing out from under us. Let us face the facts, my friends. The old order that led to the tragedy is weakened, and it cannot provide for those who fought for freedom and dignity. An old pillar of Herztalian might has been banished, and I assure you they are not returning. The Order of Solstice’s Flame has found a new home. War rumbles over the horizon on distant shores, as there are those who struggle for their own place in this world. I’m sure everyone has heard tell of the revolution occurring in Velancian lands. As we speak, our brothers and sisters rebel against the yoke and the plough of their masters.”

  The crowd was visibly taken aback by something, and I was initially confused as to why. That was, until I realized that my tone had shifted, becoming just a bit too…heated, shall we say. I’d let too much of my real feelings toward the Dwarven institution of slavery seep through. That wasn’t productive right now, though, so I reigned it in.

  “The combination of all these factors…” I said slowly. “Is that we, the people of Herztal, have an opportunity. An opportunity to right the lingering wrongs left over from the Construct War. An opportunity to protect those at risk, due to the monstrous negligence of those who orchestrated the conflict. An opportunity…to become the caretakers for the souls freed by our northern brethren. I have a confession to make, my friends. This,” I said, reaching into my coat and pulling out something as familiar to me as air. As I did so, I noticed that Robert, who had been particularly spellbound by my speech, snapped to attention. I was unsurprised to see that he recognized it.

  A Bond Breaker. My newest, most efficient iteration of the device.

  “Is the tool being used to break the bonds of slavery,” I said, as all eyes snapped onto it. I smiled slyly. “With the help of my mentor, Headmaster Greycton,” I said, nodding to said mentor, sitting placidly at his table with an unreadable expression on his aged features. “I designed and provided the initial Bond Breaker, as I call them, to the warriors of The Unshackled. However…now they have come to me, to beg for more. They have come to ask that we save the future of those lives that have already been saved. They have asked us…to help resettle the former slaves of the Principality. I have agreed. But…I cannot do this alone, my friends.” I took a deep breath.

  Here we go.

  “I…do not wish to found a Martial Order, bent upon the need to impose my ideals upon another. I have no wish to venture out and seek dominion over others. Monsters must be culled, yes. But not people,” I said solemnly. I started to pace on the stage before them, my coat catching in the wind and snapping to and fro. “Never would I wish to treat people as little more than disobedient cattle. I instead would defend those who cannot defend themselves, I would provide succor to the helpless, and I would heal those who have been wounded by the march of the ambitious. To do this…I need your help to found this Order,” I stopped, and turned to face the crowd. I was…a bit shocked to see tears already rolling down the cheeks of more than one person in the crowd, but I didn’t let it stop me. “To be recognized by both the High Assembly and the Lord Regent as a rightful Martial Order of Herztal, several things are required. First,” I said, storing the Bond Breaker back in my coat and withdrawing a rolled-up scroll. “We require proof and signature that at least fifty different souls are willing to join this nascent Order. Those who sign are not required to join in a combat role if you do not wish that. There is a great deal of work that must be done by those quiet souls who instead wish to dedicate themselves through less hazardous service. Even if you only wish to have membership as a backer, this is enough in the eyes of the Crown. Secondly…,” I smiled. “We need a name and a charter.”

  Someone in the crowd, a man who looked to be in his early thirties perhaps, cleared his throat nervously. “Do you…have something in mind, Sir Hart?”

  I smiled kindly at the man. “I do,” I said softly. Slowly, I unrolled the scroll and gazed down at what I had already so painstakingly put down upon it. Without looking up, I spoke. “I thought long and hard about such a thing. Until, eventually…I thought of the heavens and those stars who guide the way. One in particular came to mind. During my time both venturing across the continent and sailing the seas, I came to know the name of one in particular. Your lodestar, shining in the northernmost reaches of the heavens, there to light the way for the weary and the lost. Here in Herztal, you’ve named it Calthera. The Velancians call it Caltera, the Kawamarans Karusera, and the Roricians Taluma. Even the Pirate Lords of Marrowmist refer to it as The Cold Watch.”

  A surprising voice piped up then.

  Renauld’s.

  “The Throng calls it Kalthra,” He said quietly, staring at me with a laser intensity. Even in the depths of the Netherim Bunker, I had never seen such focus from the Gnoll.

  I nodded at him thankfully. “Even the adopted children of Vereden have a name for it. I am no different. My people knew our north star by another name.” I lifted my gaze from the crowd and stared up at a distant point on the horizon, as if I was trying to pick it out of the endless blue expanse. “Polaris.”

  An unexpected shiver ran down my spine, and I don’t think I was the only one to feel it. There was a palpable feeling of weight to the air as I spoke.

  “Polaris is a beacon. It hangs in the inky blackness of the night sky, ever shining, ever guiding the way home. It never falters in its task, nor does it dim in its radiance. Since man was in its infancy, it has gazed down kindly at those who have sought direction. So, too, would I have our Order function. In this wounded land, with its wounded people, we shall act as the beacon. Not unlike this lighthouse,” I switched my gaze over to said building, seeing more than one head follow me. “We shall be the lodestar to the lost and the weary, those souls who need a helping hand in order to thrive. As such…I settled on a name that I feel encapsulates that desire.”

  “We…shall become the Order of the Polaris Reach. That is…if you will aid us, my friends.”

  Silence descended on the gathering as I fully unrolled the scroll and placed it on the small table I had left up here, for just this situation. Emblazoned along the top of the scroll were the chosen name of the Order I hoped to found, in as careful a hand as I could manage with all the calligraphic skill I’d picked up. Under those words was a simple sketch of what I hoped our banner to become.

  An eight-pointed compass star, four long prongs in azure blue, four short ones in crimson red. Surrounding the star was an incomplete circle of white, to represent the broken collar of the freed slave.

  No weapons would belong on this banner.

  And under that…the words that I wished for this Order to live by.

  ‘To act, not to watch.’

  By the time I looked up from the scroll, I found that Isolde had already climbed the steps of the stage to stand before me. She was surprisingly solemn, meeting my eyes without fear. Still, I sensed a bit of…wonder in her gaze, for a reason I couldn’t quite parse. Wordlessly, she held out a hand, and wordlessly, I gently placed the pen I’d brought for this purpose in it. She turned from me to stare down at the scroll, and then dipped the pen in the inkwell I’d already laid next to it.

  She signed her name, set the pen down, and then turned and left the stage without another word.

  Azarus was next, right behind her.

  I exchanged a quick smile with my best friend before he signed just as easily. And then Liora, and Maria, and Alex.

  All of our former comrades in the Division and SED.

  All of the former soldiers of the Catch.

  All of the attendant business owners of Blutstein.

  Somehow…everyone who was in attendance had chosen to sign.

  As I expected, Sylvia didn’t choose to join us on stage to sign the charter, though I could tell she looked conflicted. Grey had a slight smile on his lips as he watched everything with an almost nostalgic look on his face, while Honoka afforded me a rare nod of respect. Venix looked…surprisingly somber, at this place standing behind Grey.

  All of it was done in surprisingly silence and solemnity. Until finally…it was just Renauld.

  My Gnollish Healer friend stood before me as the last person who had yet to sign. When I extended the pen to him, he stared at it for a surprisingly long time, seemingly lost in thought. Eventually, though, he took it and, almost reverently, signed his name.

  For some reason, I saw Liora let out what looked to be a sigh of relief at his signing.

  But when he was done…I stared down at the charter, for my-

  No.

  Our Order.

  The Order of the Polaris Reach.

  A slight sheen came to my eyes then, and I looked up at the gathered members. They stood in rings, both around and on the stage, and all of them greeted me with smiles. I returned them.

  “Well, my friends,” I said slowly.

  “Let’s get to work.”