The tower bell above pealed a slow, foreboding rhythm that echoed through the great hall. Streams of golden light poured in through the polished windows in the room ahead, illuminating the path through the room. At the far end, atop a flat piece of shimmering stone, was the altar, a blazing bowl of wood and coal set within its centre. A carpet of polished reptilian scales led up the centre of the room, where warriors gathered on either side, their ceremonial armour shining like moonlight on ice.

Lothrak Nageeran took a deep breath, thoughts racing through his mind as he peered through the thin curtain of crimson cloth that lay between the foyer, where he was standing, and the great hall. Today was his knighting ceremony, the day he ascended... and he was afraid. Not just at what those in the room ahead thought of him, but of the one who would carry out the ceremony.

All around the room, emotions churned and lashed like the tentacles of a kraken. Excitement, anticipation and boredom all burned ahead of him, hidden only by a curtain that would soon be parted. All would see him face-to-face, and all of them would sense his emotions. His fear, his doubt, his dread at what would soon come to pass.

And then, as Lothrak looked into the near distance, a tall and stately figure stood silhouetted in the sunlight, his identity instantly betrayed by his aura of noble majesty. He moved with unflinching confidence, every action full of purpose and bereft of the slightest hint of hesitation, his mind a beacon of courage and wisdom for everyone in the room.

Everyone who was anyone knew who he was. The Burning Blade. The Slayer of Legions. The Knight Exemplar who had single-handedly defeated entire companies of Sirthon and brought down a War Mech with nothing more than his bare hands.

Gendros Kazoran of the Fireheart Wardens... Lothrak's tutor and master.

The young-blood had been granted the privilege of being tutored by the legend himself. Schooled to join the Firehearts by the epitome of Xan-Klar ideals. The pressure was high.

Terror speared through Lothrak's chest. What if Gendros saw his fear? What would his master say if he saw his squire be afraid of a simple ceremony? How could those he hoped to fight alongside treat him as an equal if he showed fear here and now?

His veins pulsed rapidly, bulging beneath his scales as elakadrine flooded his bloodstream. Lungs heaving, Lothrak tried desperately to reinvigorate his spirits.

He had earned his right to be here. Today was his day. The day he ascended and became that which he had quested to be for so long. Since he was a hatchling, he had dreamed of this moment, and he would not be so weak as to back out now.

He would not, for it would not befit a Xan-Klar to be a coward. Never doubt, never fear, never show weakness.

A voice sliced through his thoughts. One he instantly recognised.

"Knights of the Order, my brothers-in-arms." Gendros addressed the crowd, the sound of his voice instantly gainingtheir attention. "We stand here in our newest sanctuary so that we may invite one more righteous soul to join our ranks. Many of you know his name, others of you know his face, but we are all here to know him in the only true way; his mind and his soul. If he has the dedication, the courage and the willpower to stand before us all and take the oaths without fear, then he shall stand amongst us as an equal."

Lothrak swallowed.

"Fireheart Wardens, I present unto you my apprentice and squire... Lothrak Nageeran."

Breathing deep, Lothrak lifted his clawed hands and yanked the cloth curtain apart, revealing a vaulted room of quarried stone and mortar, illuminated by hanging lanterns and the light from the arched windows, was revealed, with eyes beyond counting turned towards him.

Lowering his gaze, the squire quickly strode down the centre of the room, the smooth touch of the carpet silencing the tapping of his claws against the floor. The apparent confidence of his gait was only slightly besmirched by the frantic racing of his thoughts. Everyone in the room could feel it, and while they could not see what he was thinking, they could see he was nervous.

Trying to ignore them all, Lothrak strode up towards Gendros, who was waiting patiently before the altar. As he approached, he took a knee, his head and tail held low in a respectful manner. As he bowed, the impeccably polished floor reflected his visage back up at him. Ultramarine scales coated his head, from the tip of his nose to the three horns that arced up from the back of his skull. His mouth was held slightly open, revealing ranks of polished and glinting teeth thatwere as sharp and serrated as knives. His trio of grey, slit-pupiled eyes, one on each side of his head and a third atop his broad snout, stared unblinkingly at the floor, the ceremonial plate armour that covered his body shimmering like silver in the sun's warm glow.

Gendros strode forward, his clawed feet tapping on the solid stone ground with each stride he took. Glancing up for the briefest of moments, Lothrak saw the elder's silver-grey scales, his chipped left horn, and his scar-covered, battle-worn snout. He walked with both head and tail held high, his burning amber eyes gazing down upon Lothrak, his very presence commanding respect from every soul in the hall.

"Lothrak Nageeran, you now stand upon the brink of great change. You have trained beneath my watchful gaze to join this brotherhood, and have never yet been found wanting." The Kazoran's illustrious voice echoed throughout the chamber, resonating off the stone walls and stained-glass windows. "But you shall be warned one last time; to take the oath before you is to forevermore be bound to the Fireheart Wardens. Should you ever leave our side after speaking these words, it shall forever be to your detriment and disgrace. If you do not wish to join us, make your desire known to us now, for you will never get the chance again."

Lothrak's response came straight from the heart.

"To turn down the honour of joining the Wardens would be an unforgivable crime. If this brotherhood will have me, I will stand with you all until the bitter end and carry out your mission with zeal and with vigilance."

Gendros' shadow nodded his head. "Very well." He then paused before continuing. "Lothrak Nageeran, do you vow to serve this knightly order without fail until your dying day?"

"Each breath I draw from this day forth shall be in the name of the Wardens. Each step I take shall be to quest in the order's name, and every new dawn will find me dutiful and ready, lest I be judged idle."

"Do you vow to live forevermore with the honour and selflessness each Warden has sworn to uphold since our founding?"

"It shall ever be my calling to defend my people's future from all who would threaten them. Whether the order stands or falls, I shall not fail in this undertaking. My loyalty is to the Xan-Klar first, the Wardens second, and never to my own selfish desires."

"And do you swear to never stand down or surrender to any foe? To fight for the Xan-Klar until the claws of death itself come to claim you?"

Lothrak lifted his head, gazed his mentor straight in the eyes, and cried out his final oath.

"For Emperor, Empire, and the future of our people! I will never falter or fail in my task, and my foes will be shattered beneath the storm that is my wrath! My blade shall strike down our enemies, my shield shall protect the innocent, and my heart shall never waver until I succeed or I die! For while there's blood in my veins, my duty remains!"

A great, growling chorus echoed his last words, punctuated by the stamping of three-toed feet.

"While there's blood in our veins, our duty remains!"

Lothrak held the gaze of his old master. Gendros' mind, as ever, was resolute, focused and sharp as a knife. But deep within, Lothrak felt a sliver of pride beam through as the elder gazed upon the youth. Well-hidden, but still there.

"Are there any Wardens here who would not stand by this Xan-Klar's side, and would not find him worthy as a brother? If so, then silence is your foe. Raise your voice now, or forever stay your tongue."

Cold dread flared within Lothrak's heart. Breathing in deeply, he focused his mind on one thing only; his right to be here. Stoking the burning passion and desire for knighthood inside him, he made his standing clear; he would become a knight or die in the attempt.

A whole minute crawled by, each second seeming to last forever. The Nageeran held his breath, trepidly waiting for a sound of defiance to echo throughout the cold walls of the sanctuary. Not a voice was raised, and while a few slivers of selfish distaste for the blue-scaled Xan-Klar appeared in a few scattered minds, those who bore such thoughts stayed their tongues.

The fear all instantly washed away, and Lothrak released his bated breath, the air loosed from his lungs was tinged with the sweet scent of relief.

"Nageeran, your vows are taken." Gendros said as he took a step back. "Remove your old armour and be raised anew."