followed by the other abbots, their Valkyrie escorts and Master Auna. The crowd slowly filed after.
“I knew you’d get the best post,” Thomas said with a smile as he clapped Vincent on the back. The smile seemed forced. “I’ll see you later tonight,” he muttered as he slowly walked off, following the crowd.
The other knights swarmed him, all congratulating him, but Vincent didn’t even notice. He was completely lost as he tried to grasp what had just happened. His greatest dream had just been handed to him. He was a Ranger.
By the time the events of the evening had finally sunk in, he was standing alone on the field. Fortunately, one of the priests had seen fit to heal him before returning to the abbey. A cool wind was blowing and he was getting cold. He started walking back to the abbey as quickly as his remaining strength would allow. He walked through the gate and followed the path that led to the main entrance.
“Hey!”
Startled, Vincent looked up. Thomas was walking toward him from the training field.
“You forgot this,” he said, handing Vincent his second sword, which he had dropped during the fight with Mayberry.
“Thank you,” Vincent said. “We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, we should get to bed.”
The two walked silently through the empty halls of the abbey to the dormitories. All the lights had been dimmed, casting odd shadows over everything. As they entered their room, Thomas broke the silence.
“I don’t know how I’m going to survive Spacco,” he sighed. “Nothing exciting ever happens there. The Eresians do everything. I’ll never get noticed enough to become a Ranger. I’ll just sit there and get fat.” He sat down on his bed, thoroughly depressed.
“I’m sure you’ll find something interesting to occupy your time,” Vincent said as he pulled off what was left of his tunic, “you always do. Besides, you’ve got an insider with the Rangers now who will be doing his best to get you in there as soon as he can.”
“I appreciate that, but it still doesn’t help my situation for the time being.” Thomas gave a weak smile from his bed.
“It’s a good thing they gave me a new tunic,” Vincent said, looking at the new black tunic, which lay folded neatly on his bed. “I think the old one has seen its last day.” He pointed at the pile of rags on the floor that used to be his tunic. Thomas laughed half-heartedly.
Thomas sighed again before he got up and started disarming. He surveyed himself in the small mirror in the corner as he pulled his shirt off. His back and arms were riddled with small scars.
“Mortensen was ruthless,” Thomas muttered as he looked at the bigger scars. “The healers weren’t even able to fully heal most of them. I guess even tokens have their limits.”
“Who?” Vincent asked.
“Oh, Mortensen was the lightning elemental,” Thomas replied. “I almost had him too; then he split into three and they all came at me at once.” He went back to inspecting his newly acquired collection of scars.
Vincent finally had the melted remnant of his armour off and moved next to Thomas at the mirror to inspect the damage he had received. To his surprise, the only scar he could see was the large one on his shoulder. It was thick and stretched from the top of his shoulder to his armpit. However, most of the hair on his arms and chest had been signed away.
Vincent shrugged and turned to his bed.
“What is that?” Thomas exclaimed.
“What?” Vincent turned quickly to see what Thomas was looking at.
“On your back. Turn around.” Thomas grabbed Vincent by the shoulder and turned him.
A giant black hand print had been burned into Vincent’s back around his token. The edge of the token just barely touched the edge of the hand.
“After the final challenge, Mayberry congratulated me by digging his hand into my back,” Vincent replied, trying to see the hand in the mirror.
“Wow,” Thomas muttered. “All the exciting things really
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