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Na'ima eyed Wrath beside her, her hand clutching his tightly as they waited in line. She was agitated, nervous, feeling very much like a skittish animal. She sidestepped closer to him, bright eyes darting this way and that from the shadows of a long black scarf she had wrapped around her head. Every now and then she turned her arm, tilting her head to rest it against Wrath's shoulder and gaze down at the matching tattoos on their wrists. A nimble finger traced the lines of feathers on his wrist, her nail scraping lightly against his skin. "I don't like this," she muttered unhappily. "What good is a knight with no memories of how they got their skills or their desires or--" There were only three more people in front of them. Her grasp on his hand tightened briefly. Her voice remained low, an unhappy grumbling mostly to herself. "There has to be another way to go about this. It's so...wrong to take our memories.." She looked up at Wrath, raising their arms again to show him their wrists.

"These don't go away just because we don't remember each other." She shook her head. "You're mine, and I love you." Na'ima then hesitated, her lips pressed together in a thin line before she gave his chest a half-hearted punch and just left her fist there. "Come find me. Idiot." She didn't want to forget him. She'd finally grown comfortable of his presence after all this time, it wasn't fair that she had to give him up. Two people were left in front of them now. No. She wasn't ready. It wasn't even just forgetting Wrath, it was forgetting everything. Would she still be herself? Would she still remember everything she had been taught about life? Would she still know how to fight? How to..how to be Na'ima? Would anything be preserved?

Was it gone forever?

Looking up at Wrath in a panic, she studied his face; ever line, every stupid hair on that stupid beard of his, the shape of his hairline, his eyes, those dumb lines he got because of his idiot smile. Would she recognize him at all? He felt his love for her was strong enough that it transcended magic, that even without his memories he'd still remember her, that she was the one thing immune to this. It was a nice thought, an unreasonable thought, an unrealistic one.

Idiot.

One person.

"Kiss me," she finally whispered. It was strange for her to ask, to demand it of him. Na'ima didn't ask for Wrath's affections, she barely even encouraged it. Anytime he tried to hug her in public she whined unhappily until she was forced to accept her situation and lean into him. Now she was asking him to kiss her. For the first time she was asking him for affection and she wouldn't even remember it later. She stood on her tiptoes when he obliged with her request, clinging desperately to him as she soaked in that last bit of warmth from him, as she tasted his lips for what she feared would be the last time. It had taken her so long to accept his love before, she doubted a second attempt at it wouldn't have the same result as the first. When finally their kiss ended she was left looking up at him, keeping her eyes on his as she slowly stepped back out of his arms and toward the box. She finally looked away to look upon it with disdain and hatred, slowly shaking her head.

One last look was sent back to Wrath. Don't forget him. She forced a smile. "Don't make a mess just because I won't remember to keep tabs on you, okay?" She blew him a kiss from the tips of her fingers. "I love you, Wrath. Don't forget that."

With a sigh she turned to the box once more and finally settled down on one knee, head bowed and eyes closed. Not him.

"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."

It was a rush, and not a pleasant one. A hand came up to hold her head as it all came to her, every memory of her life; the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the moments she had deemed 'unforgettable' and had been for a time..and then it was gone. All of it was gone. Na'ima staggered to her feet, looking down at her hands and turning them this way and that. She frowned, eyeing the tattoo on her wrist. Why was there only one wing there? She checked the other wrist. Now that didn't seem like her to leave something incomplete.

Wait. Did it seem like her?

She...thinks so..

Na'ima blinked, looked up from her hands, and continued wordlessly away from the box.

The crowds were exciting and terrifying. Drona had never seen so many people before - so many different kinds of people, too. From the rich to the poor, rags and riches, everyone had turned out to hear the King's speech, it felt like.

She may only be here for the potential money, but the glory of it all was enrapturing. Save the kingdom, protect the people, fulfill your destined duty to the world.

"You must follow a Great Knight's path of conduct and choose a Sacred Weapon. Only a true knight can wield it, those too weak will fall prey to madness. This is why the Trial of Knights exist. Follow the knight code, complete your trials, and you will be granted a Sacred Weapon."

Sacred weapon. If Drona could have stars in her eyes, she would. Not only would she be taking place under more elite ranks, but she'd be working toward something that sounded unique and invaluable. She'd never had the privilege for something like that, which made it all the more exciting.

The crowds started to disperse, and only those that were actually interested in pledging themselves hovered about. Still diverse, but a less intense crowd. She watched a few immediately make their decisions and move, but she was a little more hesitant. So many choices, and so much commitment to swear herself to just one.

Blue exuded protection, she knew she'd be providing safety for the kingdom under that knight. The black knight had an overbearing sense of power, as if it was the number one goal. It made her shudder - Black was out. White looked too kind, too giving. She couldn't follow that in good faith. Red was vibrant and impressive. Every bit the war-conquering knight from every story she'd ever heard. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest with admiration for a lifestyle she knew she couldn't live up to. Gold was tempting. So proud and glorious looking. She'd never looked so prideful, and she craved it. She wanted to be that knight. Violet seemed versatile. Not just prideful or powerful, but somewhere in the middle. A hope of being more.

But her gaze fell on green, and the world blurred around her. Preservation, healing, the earthy feeling of growth and health. He body moved on it's own toward Gawain, pulse hammering away in her ears. She belonged here, she belonged to this knight, to his cause, she belonged-

She shook her head and came to her senses while already on one knee. She'd barely registered the world moving around her, but somehow she'd already lead herself to kneel at the green knight's feet. Her stomach roiled with doubt. What was she doing? She hadn't thought this through, how could she have already made this decision?

But the words were leaving her lips before she could stop them. "I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."

The words were almost foreign to her ears, but she knew what they meant. She choked it out, and then everything was gone. She had no cabin in the woods, she had no Jaja waiting for her, she had no goals of wealth, of stability.

She had only knighthood in her future. She had only Green.

The greatest knights might have gathered in Camelot with the intention of saving humanity, but he couldn't help wondering if the rest of the vagabonds that had joined them here had considerably slimmed their odds of actually doing so. He'd heard more screaming and crying since he'd arrived in this kingdom than one might face during a birthing, or at least Brenley assumed that was so, having never attended one himself. He had thought the box might help matters once he had seen it, but even though its strange thrum had quieted the masses, he now knew it wasn't enough to give them purpose. They were all going to die, knights or not, box or not, king or not. Even so, he found he couldn't bring himself to just give up. It would have been braver to do so. As always, he was one breath away from pathetic. At least he wasn't being given much of a chance to choose death in this situation. The young man knelt to Gawain, muttering his oath as he glared at the ground.

"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."

There. It was done.

Brenley pushed himself upright and crossed to a bench in the shadows. He expected pain, sadness, anything even remotely resembling regret, but even before memories of his family had left him, he felt nothing at all. Fortunately, he wouldn't recall his indifference either. It was a second chance.

Kari cast a weary gaze upon the massive box that laid before her. This box was said to lead to the salvation of their lands, and she was tempted to believe it due to the feeling of power emanating from the object. Could this box really make the hellish journey she'd made to arrive here into a worthwhile venture? The only way she would figure that out would be to make a pledge.

Seeing what others before her had done, Kari knelt down in front of the box and took a deep breath before reciting the words:

"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."

A moment passed and nothing happened. Wasn't something supposed to happen? There'd been mention of a sacrifice, but Kari couldn't see it as the minutes ticked-

Flames. Flames covered her vision from what could see outside the tiny nook in the floor her father and mother had hidden her within in their simple cottage. There'd been sounds of chaos. People screaming. The roar of monsters. The clashing of metal on skin and bone. Of what they had been fighting, she couldn't say, but everything was quiet now aside from the random crackle of flame on its chosen tinder. There was also a tinge of something burning on the wind that Kari couldn't, or at least didn't want to, identify. The silence seeped into her, filling her with doubts of whether to move to find her parents or to stay hidden. Her father had gone to fight the monsters while her mother had gone to find a means of escaping the village, but that had been quite a while ago, with neither returning like they'd promised before they left with her assurance that she would stay put no matter what until they came back.

Unable to bear the haunting silence any longer, Kari pushed against the hatch leading to her nook despite her promise to stay. It gave way easily, disturbing some ash in the process that prompted her to shut her eyes. Coughing while waving the ashes away, she slowly opened her eyes to stare in shock at what laid before her. Everything... was gone. Her friends, her neighbors... her family... nothing had been spared. The entire village was now a vacant wasteland of dilapidated buildings and charred bodies from people and animals alike. Her house had been no different. The flames she'd seen from the hole in the hatch had been the remnants of their burned cottage. Her only saving grace had been that the hidden nook had been dug directly into the hard earth and couldn't burn. She didn't even need to call out to know that she was alone. If someone were alive, they would have shown themselves long before now. She'd never even gotten to say goodbye...

Before Kari could even fathom mourning the loss of her friends and family, a low noise, animalistic in nature, caught her attention. It was close. Mourning would come later. She couldn't stay here, and hiding would be useless in the presence of a beast's sharp nose. She had to find somewhere safe. Wiping her face from where tears had absently started falling in her initial shock, Kari scurried away to what she hoped would be safety.

Kari slowly opened her eyes, wondering why they felt so wet. Nothing came to mind that she should be crying over. She only had a feeling of need. What that need was, she wasn't sure. Brushing the tears aside, she stood, a knight-apprentice now under the lead of Gawain.

He was so perfect. He was so beautiful. He was so strong. He was so admirable.

There was no mistaking the true focus of Thackery's intentions here - the eager boy's eyes never left Violet's representative, no matter what the Great King said, no matter what those around him did or how they moved or how they said excuse me you are standing directly in our path and we cannot walk through you.

He wasn't standing particularly still, however. He seemed to vibrate with excitement, shifting from foot to foot, fidgeting eagerly as he waited his turn. He didn't seem to understand the concepts of an orderly line whatsoever, but he did still wait his turn.

And when the box waited for him, he offered more than just his memories: Mordred received one huge, adoring smile before Thackery had any opportunity to forget how much he really wanted to cuddle him.

Among other things.

"IpledgemyservicetoMor--the Great KingandtheGreatKnightsIwillupholdtheKnight'sCodeandprotectthiskingdomagainstthedarkness."

It was close enough, apparently. Or the box seemed to think so.

The red on his hands was nice and warm and full of nice, warm love, and their bodies were just giving it away. It was hard to not feel hurt, after everything. Difficult for him to see them this way, when he'd always dreamed of so much more.

But they were safe now. Safe and happy, he imagined - largely due to the smiles he pressed onto their faces, or drew on in pretty red smudges when their frowns wouldn't move.

He sang them a lullaby, bid them one more farewell, and went on his way.

When he was all finished, Mordred received one huge, adoring smile, which Thackery believed was the first of them.

[Barth - Enter]

The trade routes had been whittled down gradually, and his father had sent him to the coasts to help ease the flow of assets. Even there, fewer ships came in. There were rumors from every mouth about war and horrors, but business was good. Desperation meant need, and need meant exchange. Tapestries, dresses, precious metals, anything fleeing men thought they might be able to trade for supplies. More than gold, food had become the major currency, but even his father was having supply difficulties. Reliable middlemen simply disappeared. Anything that went out on the roads was a gamble.

One by one, the cities and towns had disappeared with them.

It had been a blessing that the missive had even reached him, as scarce as they had been these days, and he'd privately boiled and fumed at the news before coming to a personal resolution. He wrote a letter to his father, put that town's business in the hands of an assistant, arranged his supplies, and took his favorite horse. If he had known what was in store for the town, he would have left sooner and not bothered with the arrangements.

The journey was also worse than he anticipated. Corpses hung on display next to burned houses and fields. Carrion birds were numerous. Death was written on every formerly human dwelling, as if hell itself had swept through and stayed.

That he had found his cousin intact was a miracle.

The rest of the journey was arguably sweeter for the company, if more of the same. Staying to the secret trade routes, sleeping in shifts, rationing supplies. They did not stop to help other travelers. Nobody could be trusted. They could not spare the time and energy to even put the dying out of their misery. The air was thick with fear and death. When they both reached the stronghold, Barth wanted for his old study. A hot bath, a hot meal, soft and indoor bedding.

What was waiting for them was vows, that came at a steep and heavy price.

The lack of reason, the weight of it, sunk into his shoulders. His plans had fallen away piece by piece, and he knew that there was worse to come, that the future had of late become tenuous in the first place, but- to lose this, to lose-

He looked at his cousin, feeling stricken, but he managed a faltering smile. He opened his mouth, could not speak either, and finally mustering up as much bravery as he was capable of, took one of Zar's hands. His touch was light, not even as firm as his convictions.

When he at last could speak, he said, "My sigil," and took his ring from his long and slender finger, and placed it in Zar's palm. He knew, objectively, that entrusting it to Zar only meant that Zar and the ring would both be lost. They could not go back. There was no back. He met Zar's eyes, wanting to say more, wanting to do more, but in practice the only thing he did was continue to linger on Zar's hand.

[ Sasha Belrose ]

"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."

It was no great sacrifice; nothing could ever be greater than defeating the evil that threatened the kingdom that Sasha called home. If her memories were what was needed to succeed, she would give them gladly - all of them, even (and especially) her fondest ones. If there was any great justice in the world, her most treasured sacrifices would be the most powerful. It is what Sasha believed with every ounce of her being; it was the only thing that made this bearable.

She was nothing more than a small word in a series of great many words that created a grand story - one filled with rich history, filled with hope and dedication, softness and strength, honor and glory.

Even if it meant giving up every memory she had of them.

The one, with his kind eyes and easy smile. She had longed for him for what felt like an eternity, but he did not know that she existed. It was not something that she often thought of - the world was filled with far too much strife for her to linger on one man, and so it was not until the shroud of night fell that she allowed herself to think of him. His eyes, his strength, his laugh. The way he carried himself, as though the weight of the world rested across his shoulders - something that showed only in the tenseness around his eyes and the way his smiles did not really light up his face. Sasha Belrose loved him, but it was an unrequited sort of thing - she was too proud, too honorable, too chaste to ever approach a man - but she would watch him from afar, like she had for a long time now; and when the time came to sacrifice her memories of him, she would do so willingly. For peace, for good, for light, she would offer up her memories for the greater good. He would understand. He would do the same.

The other, with his soft laugh and warm advice. They had been friends since they were children, and he was like a brother to her. He never wanted anything but the best for her, and he believed in her when she did not believe in herself. He lifted her when she felt despondent about the never-ending battle they fought, and sometimes his laughter was the only thing that kept her feeling positive. He was not always a jester for her amusement - there was a seriousness about him, a softness, and she often told him that he was far wiser than his years. There was a sadness in his eyes at times, and she never pushed him to speak on it - but even her memories of him were worth sacrificing simply because they were merely cogs in a much greater machine. He would understand. He would do the same.

When it came to be her turn, Sasha spoke the words easily. She spoke them with strength and conviction. She spoke them with determination, with force, and with finality. Perhaps they came a little too easily - that thought was not allowed to dwell, and she banished it firmly. There was no time for that line of thought. It was selfish, and she was not a selfish woman. She never had been. Her life had been lived all for the sake of her kingdom - but sometimes, she wanted to be a little selfish, just a little.

It was too late for that now.

"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."

[ Piper ]

There wasn't much to be said about this street rat's presence in the kingdom. Had she had it her way, Piper would have been on the next boat out of the land, snuck on or otherwise with a legitimate stub bought with stolen money. Her life had been a vagrant's meandering way for as long as she could remember, and when the land is plagued by a threat you couldn't hope to face, well, the only logical thing to do would be to leave said land.

But their world isn't a fair one by any stretch of the imagination. One fatal Rider attack later, and here she was, a scrawny little girl amongst too many people with lofty words and not so heavy purses. Piper resented not being able to lift a few to make this whole thing worth her while, but better to be bored to death here than gored to death out there.

Besides, honeyed words of heroism gave her feelings. Like a nice story told before bed, it sounded pretty but wouldn't stop you from having the nightmare once the book was closed. She proceeded through the line, half of the time joking, half of the time complaining. The occasion was solemn. Too much so.

When it came Piper's time to give her pledge--and her memories--she hesitated. There was no point to, but she wanted some part of her dignity to stay. Then again, maybe taking these bad memories away from her would do her some good. Clean away the muck, so to speak. The alternative was too ghastly to give further credence.

And so she chose to believe in hope.