It ended like a small recital.
When Masumi finished playing “Air on the G String,” Ark and Kasumireaz gave her applause. It had only been a warm-up, yet they praised her in earnest, making no effort to hide their surprise, and it left Masumi feeling self-conscious enough that she pinched the hem of her dress and returned their courtesy with a small curtsy.
After that, playing a few simple pieces gave her more than enough time to rest and loosen her fingers, and Masumi found herself in perfect condition.
Her clothing, too, proved useful: the dress she had worn for volunteer performances at a nursing home. In that male-dominated camp, having something newly made in time for the ceremony would have been an impossible demand.
She had heard that the places she would need to walk during the ceremony were laid with a deep crimson carpet.
Because it was Christmas, she had chosen a glossy peacock-colored dress, and it would stand out beautifully. With no makeup tools or anything of the sort, this alone was a blessing amid the misfortune.
“Basically, I will escort you through everything.”
Kasumireaz said she had nothing to worry about.
Going out from behind the curtain to the waiting area, guiding her to her position when it was time, judging every moment so that everything proceeded without delay, that was his job.
“So I can stop thinking about everything and just focus on playing.”
“Yes.”
At Kasumireaz’s unhesitating affirmation, Masumi finally let out the breath she had been holding.
If he had told her to memorize the complicated procedures of a ceremony she had never even seen, she would have gone on strike without a doubt. She was an awkwardly single-minded violinist, and she simply did not have that kind of capacity.
Masumi was not the only one whose preparations were complete.
Ark had changed into a splendid knight’s uniform.
His usual attire was deep navy, but now he wore dazzling white fabric adorned with glittering decorations. Apparently, it was formal dress. The shoulder boards and cuff insignia were gold-toned and conspicuous to an absurd degree.
“It’s so flashy it’s practically screaming, ‘Please target me.’”
“Who goes to a battlefield dressed like this? It’s only for ceremonies.”
With a fed-up look, Ark reached up toward his collar.
“This is still formal dress, so it’s bearable. Full dress is more of a hassle.”
“Sorry, I don’t get the difference.”
“With full dress there’s more decoration, and it’s heavier.”
A wonderfully clear complaint.
Full dress, he explained, was worn when attending ceremonies in the imperial capital hosted by the Emperor. If it involved the Emperor, full dress; for other ceremonies, the next rank down, formal dress. That was the rule within the knightly orders.
Full dress was truly full equipment.
Right now, it was only that his shoulder boards and cuff insignia differed from usual, but full dress added things like shoulder chains and chest sashes, along with various other options. It looked magnificent, and the women would scream with delight, but the person wearing it apparently just wanted to be freed from it as quickly as possible.
If it was disliked that much, it only made Masumi more curious. As she and Ark traded lines like “I want to see,” “No,” “Come on, it’s not like it’ll kill you,” “It’ll kill my stamina,” and “Think of it as training,” a sigh cut in between them.
Huh?
Tracing the sound, Masumi found it came from Kasumireaz.
“In weight and heat, the honor guard has it worse.”
Sweat beaded on his brow as he spoke in a sullen voice.
He had already changed as well, into the same silver armor Masumi had seen the first time they met. This, too, was for the ceremony, polished so thoroughly it bore not a single scratch.
A longsword hung at his waist, and he held his helmet tucked under one arm.
A pure white cloak flowed from both shoulders all the way to his ankles. Because it was ceremonial armor, certain parts had apparently been removed for the sake of lightness, but even so, the sheer fact that it covered his entire body made it look unbearably hot.
And it was early summer, and one in the afternoon.
The hottest time of day, yet Kasumireaz stood straight-backed and immaculate, the very picture of a knight. Compared to him, Masumi and Ark were lightly dressed, so his grievance was, admittedly, fair.
Then Ark gave a fearless grin.
“It’ll be hot, sure, but this year’s ceremony will probably end faster than any on record. You should be pleased.”
“That is certainly something to be grateful for, but…”
Kasumireaz trailed off, and glanced at Masumi.
Masumi tilted her head, wondering what it was, but Kasumireaz quickly looked away and shook his head.
“We can’t celebrate wholeheartedly. It’s only a stopgap. It doesn’t solve the fundamental problem our Fourth Order is facing.”
As soon as he finished saying it, Kasumireaz rose. “We should go.”
Ark looked as though he wanted to continue, but in the end he only shrugged and said nothing more.
To Masumi’s eyes, Kasumireaz seemed stubborn.
They had only met a day ago, yet there was a clear hierarchy between the two men. Kasumireaz never dropped his polite posture, and Ark, while showing respect, spoke as though issuing orders was his default.
The reason Kasumireaz seemed stubborn was that he had cut the conversation short.
It could even be taken as a refusal to continue the exchange.
Masumi still could not begin to guess what he was worrying over.
Masumi, led by Kasumireaz, headed to the venue first.
Apparently, it was customary for the commander’s personal musician to enter under the escort of the Captain of the Guard.
They walked in silence down a corridor partitioned by crimson drapes. As the venue’s murmur grew nearer, the only other sound was the faint metallic scrape of Kasumireaz’s armor as he walked ahead.
After passing several corners, they reached a curtain that blocked the way, and the corridor ended there.
A soldier stood waiting in armor similar to Kasumireaz’s. The difference was that his cloak was blue. When he noticed them, he bent one knee in a respectful kneel.
Kasumireaz nodded.
The soldier nodded back, then slipped through the closed curtain.
“Beyond this is the investiture hall. When the bell rings, we enter.”
Masumi nodded at the concise explanation.
After a short wait, a single clear bell rang high. Without doubt, the signal. Kasumireaz looked back at Masumi.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Masumi tightened her grip on the violin in her left hand and followed the silver back before her.
The sight that burst into view was nothing short of spectacular.
In the center of the venue stood a group of knights in silver armor. They wore no cloaks. Arranged in a rectangle, there were perhaps thirty of them. By their position, these must be today’s main figures, those about to receive investiture.
On both sides, honor guards in blue cloaks stood in perfect order. They held their longswords upright at their chests, points to the sky, and the blades glittered as they caught the sunlight.
The honor guards were two lines deep on each side, and the formation continued unbroken toward the back of the hall.
Masumi and Kasumireaz emerged at the far end of the venue, on a dais about three steps higher than the knights below.
Looking around, she saw crowds packed in around the knights and the dais. Perhaps to improve visibility, the seating was arranged like a stadium, rising little by little toward the back.
It was when they stepped out and reached the center of the dais.
A sound rose through the hall, something between cheers and a rumbling murmur.
The cheers were likely for Kasumireaz, and the murmur likely for Masumi. But Kasumireaz gave no sign of reacting. He escorted Masumi to the edge of the dais and indicated where she should stand.
Only after she stopped did Masumi lightly pinch her dress and bow. Immediately after, the bell rang again, three times this time, a little more triumphantly than before.
And when the last resonance faded into the sky,
the next moment brought a cheer so loud it seemed the hall truly shook.
Ark, dressed in white formal wear, strode in from the curtain. His steady steps carried a kind of dignity. The cheers did not falter, and when Ark reached the center of the dais, they peaked.
The volume was so overwhelming that Masumi reflexively narrowed one eye.
She glanced sideways, but Kasumireaz stood at attention, unshaken, as if he were used to it.
Ark lifted one hand.
The cheers dwindled at once, and soon a hush fell over the hall, which must have held hundreds.
This man truly held people in his grasp. Catching a glimpse of that charisma, Masumi felt her shoulders tremble without meaning to.
The ritual began with no declaration at all, flowing out of the silence as naturally as water.
Kasumireaz moved and took his place at Ark’s side.
On the rectangular dais lay a row upon row of longswords and shields. Ark took one from the center and kissed the blade. At that signal, one knight stepped forward and knelt below the dais.
His eyes were fixed on Ark, the commander above. They burned without hesitation, eyes like fire, as though he would devote himself to his convictions without wavering.
Looking down, Ark lifted one corner of his mouth in faint satisfaction, and set the tip of the longsword against the knight’s right shoulder. Then words blessing the knight’s departure rang out into the beautiful blue sky.
A blessing for those who would become knights.
Obey righteous strength. Be brave. Be honest. Be generous. Hold fast to your convictions.
Protect the realm, protect the weak, protect the truth.
The power I grant, the sword that severs wicked intent, the shield that drives away corrupt thought, the sorcery that crushes evil, may they become guardians to all.
The ringing declaration sank into Masumi’s chest without resistance.
For some reason, her vision blurred. She still did not know what their world was truly like, yet the choice to take that oath and live by it felt, in itself, like something worthy of praise.
After the first vow, the knights rotated one after another, receiving sword and shield.
When the distribution was complete, the newly made knights drew their swords and raised them to the sky as the honor guards did. Ark stood directly before them.
Masumi had been watching, captivated by the refined movements, and noticed too late that Kasumireaz had returned.
“Masumi.”
At the small call, she finally brought her awareness back to her surroundings. Kasumireaz was kneeling before her, his left hand extended.
To accept his escort, Masumi shifted her bow from her right hand to her left.
When she laid her right hand gently atop his, the gauntlet was not as cold as she had expected. It held a faint warmth.
Kasumireaz escorted her to the front of the dais, the very center of the hall.
Ark had already descended and stood at the same level as the knights. After guiding Masumi, Kasumireaz moved with practiced grace and knelt on the middle step of the three-step stair.
His white cloak spread softly over the crimson carpet.
He drew the longsword at his waist and offered the bare blade to the highest step.
Beyond it, Ark’s back flared with a pale blue-white radiance. The signal. Masumi drove her bow across the strings.
Edward Elgar, the British composer.
His “Pomp and Circumstance” consisted of six marches, but the first was by far the most famous and beloved.
Often called Britain’s second national anthem, the piece was written for orchestra. In the main section, brass and woodwinds unfurled in a heroic, brilliant sweep. Yet the true core lay in the strings, and in the trio section in particular, the weight and splendor of the melody came fully to the fore. That majestic theme was loved so deeply that lyrics were later written to it.
A fast, dazzling main section, and a slow, grand trio.
Repeating those, the march progressed, shifting its details little by little.
Masumi made her bow fly with everything she had.
A solo, and only her.
Even if they did not know the original, she could not allow her sound to be paltry on this radiant stage.
Though it differed from the true score, she filled in other instrumental lines as best she could, creating harmony with double-stops where possible, thickening the sound. Here, more than elegance, what was needed was strength.
The end of the first main section aligned perfectly with the moment Ark finished granting light to every knight in the first row.
Two rows left.
Ark had said she could simply repeat the same piece, but the ceremony moved faster than she had expected. In “Pomp and Circumstance,” the main section and trio were nearly the same length, and each was repeated twice. At this pace, she could likely cover everything in a single run without repeating at all.
The second row finished exactly at the close of the first trio.
As the last row began, the music returned to the bright main section. Masumi shortened the main and trio, repeating them once, and by the time every light had settled into the knights, the rite was complete.
Ark returned to the dais still shrouded in pale blue-white radiance.
For some reason, his face was full of surprise, and he stared straight at Masumi.
Masumi had no time to respond. The end of the piece, the culmination of the ceremony, was at hand.
The final coda lifted the main theme high one last time.
If she were to place a prayer in her music, it was this: that their oath would become brave hands capable of protecting someone.
That they would not, in the battles that surely awaited them, forget the pure resolve they held on this first day.
To be strong for someone’s sake.
Not everyone could do that. Masumi could not. So at the very least, she would pray for their fortune in war, turning the chain of notes into words, sending them out into the air.
She listened until the final sound vanished. The trembling of the air stilled.
Certain she had finished, Masumi lifted her bow from the strings.
When she opened her eyes slowly, there was silence before her. Breathing hard, she lowered the violin, wondering if she ought to bow again.
Then a light clink of metal sounded at her feet.
She looked down.
Her eyes met Kasumireaz’s, his helmet visor raised. He lifted himself slightly, took the hem of Masumi’s dress in both hands, and raised it reverently.
Then he pressed a kiss to it, and in that instant, the hall was flooded with a roaring cheer.
Masumi could not hide her bewilderment.
She had not played a dazzlingly virtuosic piece that would command respect by technique alone. So it was not that she felt an overwhelming, singular sense of accomplishment. Nor was this a stage that would decide her life. She had not felt pressure, not even a little.
She had not held back.
And yet, she could not understand why her performance deserved praise with such force.
Wherever she looked, all she could see were smiles and applause.
And when she glanced down, Ark was there, clapping as he looked straight up at her.
