Magi'i of Cyador

Lorn’alt, Isahl Undercaptain, Mirror Lancers
XVII

LORN’ALT STANDS RIGIDLY in formal lancer whites, whitescabbarded sabre at his side, white garrison cap set squarely in place over his short brown hair. He is the fourth man in the front line of five new Mirror Lancer officers, listening to the graying but trim lancer commander standing on the podium before the score of new undercaptains ranked in the open sunstone arena-an arena nearly empty except for the officers who had trained them, who had whittled down three score possible candidates to the score who remained nearly a year later. A score had left voluntarily, and a score had died or been too severely injured to continue.

“ … you are the first line of defense against the barbarians of the north. At times, you will be all that stands between Cyador and the black order of death ….”

Standing one rank back and three junior officers to his left is Kyl’alt, and somewhere farther to the rear, surprisingly, is Akytol’alt, towering over most of the other new undercaptains. Lorn concentrates on the commander’s words, as though they were new, as though he had not already heard similar banalities all his life.

“ … never has our world had a land that offered so much to so many for so long … never has our world had a light that has shone so brightly as that raised by Cyador … and you are here to ensure that light will shine forever, and that peace and prosperity will reign endlessly. You are a Mirror Lancer officer. Never forget that! Never forget that you are here because generations of Lancer officers have stood between the dark tide of the order of death and the light and prosperity of chaos. That was their duty, and they did it well. May you carry out your duty as well.”

After a moment of silence, the commander adds, “You will step forward as your name is called.” He pauses, then announces, “Undercaptain Bruk’alt.”

When the commander calls Lorn’s name, the former student magus steps forward as had the others. The commander hands the two silver bars to Lorn.

“Thank you, ser.”

“Don’t thank me, Undercaptain. You earned them, and you will continue to earn them every day you are on duty in the service of Cyador-and even when you are not.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Lorn’alt …” the commander offers in an even lower voice.

“Yes, ser?”

“Perchance I am wrong, but you could easily have been first in the training company.” The flint-gray eyes never leave Lorn’s.

“Ser … I wanted to do well, but I also was more concerned about learning everything I could. I made mistakes that way, ser.”

The faintest of smiles crinkles the commander’s lined face. “I hope that’s the truth, Undercaptain Lorn. The Lancers have no place for officers who let someone else be first to blunt the charge, and then rise to take credit. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, ser.”

The commander nods brusquely, and Lorn turns and steps back to his place in the formation.

“Undercaptain Jykan’alt …”