Pasquale gets East Light - Golden Spiced Rum from Beverage Barrels.

The Sunrise Stronghold is at once ancient and modern; situated in one of the further reaches of the island from the fortress of Maelstrom, it is built on the bones of what used to be the ruling seat of House Thrax. Ancient structures have been kept in place, where possible, though the contemporary stonemasons responsible for converting the ruins into the Order of East Light's 'home' have their marks made clear where less weathered bricks were laid atop those that came over a millennium before. Those familiar with Maelstrom proper might recognize similarities between the two citadels, but the most dramatic difference is plain: despite sharing the same stormwracked landmass, the Stronghold has a far brighter atmosphere than the looming fortress on its high perch. Each ship that pulls into port is greeted with the sight of the Order's banners, stark, brilliant white a sharp contrast against the dark stones that they hide, with the crimson gauntlet clutching a flame marking East Light's stewardship over this piece of living history.

Led into the fortress, torches light the way to give further glimpses of where painstaking efforts have been made to preserve ancient murals and artwork while turning the 'ruins' into a livable garrison. Each tells a different story, but there is a common thread that runs through them; a reverence for the goddess of the sea and sky, depictions of how life on the Mourning Sea might have appeared prior to the Reckoning, and less familiar depictions of men and women dressed in plate armor that gleams a silver-white, on ships and shores, armed for war.

The memorial meant to precede the knighting ceremony takes place in a chamber that appears meant to recount some of the Order's more recent histories, trophies and artistic renditions lining the walls in an effort to commemorate battles fought since its reconstitution some years ago. It's altogether a short affair, and largely void of any grandiosity - it's little more than Knight Commander Romulius Thrax reading out the names of those lost in the battle for the Lashheller Chain, a mysterious archipelago in the furthest reaches of House Darkwater's territories. Boris Petro is named, a young squire hailing from the Tydelands who was lost and deemed dead in the initial landing. So too is Sir Sagan Korsakov, once a sailor from Maelstrom who was eventually anointed one of the Order's first 'native' knights. All told, the dead number eight, a mixture of knights and squires, each given a place on the walls by way of a steel arming sword emblazoned with their names. What remains could be recovered have already been sent to their homes, be they in the Mourning Isles or to some other coastal holding outside of them. Their peers are allowed to speak on them as desired, though the man 'officiating' it is silent as tales of their bravery and humanity are shared.

After the memorial, those who have been invited to witness Orland's oaths are allowed some time to themselves as Romulius leaves for some other part of the Stronghold, the young squire in tow - no doubt to prepare for the impending ceremony. It's perhaps an hour after when guests are led away and into a courtyard where the sky opens once more for the sun to shine what light breaks through the seemingly perpetual cloud coverage over the island. It falls upon the circular walls and reveals more artwork, this time in three dimensions - a ring of statues, thirteen in total, each depicting one of the gods of the Pantheon. Carved into a recess of the mountain that surrounds the courtyard, the depiction of Mangata is more ornate than any. The goddess stands with her hands cupped outwards, a trick of genius engineering allowing water to flow out and into them as an offering for visitors, utterly clean, clear, and pure. The excess falls down into a trough beneath, swirling away and out of sight to some place beneath, Mangata's divinity seemingly allowing for unlimited benedictions. It must be the constant motion that keeps the water from freezing over in the frigid climes of Maelstrom, snow still falling down from the skies above even as winter sounds out its death throes.

Thirteen stone cups rest on its lip, overturned so as to prevent the vessels themselves from collecting snow, dust or suffering the weathering of open air. It's here that the Knight Commander waits, Romulius standing beside Orland and seemingly having made an effort to dress much as those individuals depicted in the murals were. Gleaming diamondplate covers him from the neck down, though he doesn't seem to carry his usual weapon; Bainteoir is in its inky black sheathe, fixed to his back, a less familiar blade of rubicund gripped in gauntleted hands instead with its point resting on the ground before him. He allows for the witnesses to filter into the courtyard and its chill before breaking off whatever muted conversation he'd been having with the lord beside him to allow him to address his guests.

Martinique dressed in sensible blakc leathers with a white shirt for this particular occasion. Formalwear didn't seem correct, but her usual daily armor would also be a bit...below grade, most likely. So it is that she's in newer clothes she hasn't broken in as well, and her gait is a little bit stiff as a result. Her hair is tied back simply with a red ribbon and allowed to fall freely over her back.

During the memorial she will stand quietly and somberly, letting the tales and words wash over her. Once it's concluded she might give just the slightest relieved sigh, and then awaits the next segment of the ceremony, shuffling into the courtyard with the rest of the throng to view the statues and the Rom along with the Orland. Him, she flashes a smile of encouragement before sliding off to the side to make room.

Akamos got here eirly and stood in silent attendance for as much as he was allowed to see. Here he is now, having found a place to sit, the large man just observes those around him offering polite bows of the head to those who venture close or make eye contact.

Medeia has come on behalf of House Eswynd to honor the fallen, and on behalf of herself to witness Orland's ascension to knighthood. The lady spends the time between memorial and ceremony greeting a few people as she sees them, but otherwise she is keeping a brisk pace as she walks in circles around the perimeter of the courtyard with just one of her guards at her side. No conversation passes between them, this is just a manner of keeping warm in the falling snow. And staying out of other people's way. Her steps slow and bring her closer once the ceremony appears about to begin. Her guard stays back from the crowd.

Jasher has joined the a blue rose table of fortunes.

Oh. Oh, Orland owes Giada. The Lycene stares at the courtyard as they're led into it; olive green eyes find Orland and narrow faintly as if to say 'Really?' All the same, she yanks her longcoat tight against the wind and snow and progresses into the space. Lips curl softly, however, as they land on the statues; seemingly comfited, she progresses slowly from one to the other. Unsurprisingly, the Archlector spends a little extra time at the statue of Tehom before finding a wall to hold up.

Savio is here, freezing his ass off in the Mourning Isles, because Orland is being Knighted. He is here /not complaining/ about freezing his tropical ass off in the Mourning Isles, because he loves his knight-to-be very much. Possessing an admittedly limited understanding of the concept of Arvani knighthood in general, he is present near the front of the gathering area, making a good effort to greet people he knows as they enter. Martinique gets a grin and fingers brushed against his forehead in a casual salute, Medeia an embrace and cheek-kiss if she permits it. Giada a blown kiss from afar, mwah mwah.

Pasquale views the fortress and the memorial with genuine interest but there is little doubt that by the time they are expected to sit he is rather grateful for the change of pace. He settles down onto one of the benches with an expression somewhere between grave seriousness and relief. His gaze fixed firmly on the upcoming ceremony and his thoughts turned towards what this means both to him and the soon to be knighted Orland.

Pasquale has joined the the cozy couch of the Astounding Amadeo.

There is an effort, by the King's Own, to mingle and make nice with Traditionalists and that is coding as Thraxian, and so Sir Corban, the First Captain, is here in his very shiny armor to see Lord Orland be knighted. He stands among the crowd, offering a smile to those here that he knows.

Giorgio has joined the A comfortable couch.

Monique doesn't seem to mind the cold. The Oathlands (no, really!) redhead stands in the courtyard with a visible vitality, alongside Aconite, as if being still isn't something she can possibly contemplate. She shifts and slides, eyes slipping this way and that. Corban gets a deeply fond smile before the Minx settles alongside Pasquale and the Renowned Whisper. Every so often, she crosses and recrosses her legs. And there's the shimmer of black glitter on her exposed skin.

Aconite arrives with Monique and Pasquale. The Whisper somewhat distracted by the atmpshere. Looking up and along the walls and then finally forward when they finally find a bench to settle on. She smiles towards the front with interest bright in her eyes.

Clad in black cashmere and emeralds, Mailys Corsetina has been seated alongside Lord Savio and Giorgio since arriving. The islanders look cold, and have confirmed so with one another. Before the ceremony, they chatted and laughed, circling around a couple quiet topics. She waved to the faces she recognised, and wondered how familiar others might be. Her posture was corrected from a hooded lean against Giorgio to rigidly perfect as soon as the ceremony began. No sketch artist would capture these three off to the side, appearing less than dazzling in support of Orland.

While the Usurper's sister can't be said to be *lurking*, not really, her present physical condition is such that she is attempting to make herself as unobtrusive and unnoticeable as possible, despite the fact that her husband is presiding over these proceedings. Natasha Thrax, ensconced in a high-necked gown of black steelsilk draped with a cloak made from rich silky furs, remains straight-backed upon a seat underneath one of the arching awnings present in the courtyard, luminous countenance halfway bathed in its shadow and igniting the normally buried golden shards within her obsidian irises. Ungloved hands are linked loosely on her lap, elegant fingers toying with the twin serpent bands on her left hand - one wrought from brilliant silver and the other hammered from glittering jet star iron. The pitiable state of her legs is currently hidden underneath a long skirt and her cloak and thus rendering them perfectly camouflaged, but there will be no standing or walking for her today.

Martinique's presence shouldn't be a surprise, but it is, somehow, to the princess considering a few reasons, but the sight of the Redreef general causes her to dip her impeccably coiffured dark-haired head in that direction, a wordless greeting imparted before attentive eyes sweep across the courtyard. Many gathered are familiar, with only a few faces that aren't.

Who invited Caprice? Caprice did! Well- maybe someone else did, but even while keeping mostly to herself, she doesn't appear to be actively avoiding detection. Muted layers keep her warm and unlikely to draw much attention, as it should be; this is about honoring the fallen, and celebrating the rise of an individual. Quiet, observant, wallflower-adjacent: that's Caprice.

Jasher arrived with the bulk of East Light's knights, squires and allies to assist with any preparations that might need doing in advance of the day's knighting ceremony. When the gates to the Sunrise Stronghold swing open, he is present within already, having adopted a position separate from the rather large crowd that has arrived to support Lord Orland - nearest his cousin, Natasha. Perhaps lurking is a family trait. Blue eyes focus intently upon the proceedings, shifting from, Romulius, the Knight Commander presiding over the ceremony, and the squire of the hour himself.

Savio like Monique seems to be slightly afflicted by a situation involving black glitter, though most of him is bundled up against the cold and little can be seen of exposed skin. He also seems a little spacey, sitting down on the bench near Mailys and Giorgio and Giada, then standing up, then sitting down again as though he forgot he did that once already. Caprice gets a smile, and a murmured, "We are so glad you've come all this way," and then Monique, Aconite, Pasquale are waved at. Then re-noticed and waved at again.

The presence of Zoey's patron does not go unnoticed, and the Kennex lady lingers near, a shadow of violet and silver. She is respectfully observant, though any who greet her are favored with a warm smile and a nod, at least.

Orland hadn't likely anticipated this many number of people here to witness his oaths - does he have sudden stage fright?! If he does, he hides it well enough with his usual deadpan expression, something that limits what guesses can be made about his thoughts or feelings presently. The Amadeo Lord has decided to wear the armor that represents Bravura most of all, with Amadeo crests engraved and the materials all coming from his homeland and the colors similarly in line with House Amadeo's sigil (yes, he's wearing the infamous Bravura Hat). If he's forgone sleep for the last few days, it's likely due in part to meditation and not at all to do with the need for extra soap to wash up - though he does have a sort of glitter to him that in the right position in the sunlight, it does look like he's sparkling a little bit. Someone clearly playing a prank on him, right. That said, his attention sweeps across all the faces crowded here - for him. They were all freezing their asses off because well, of this important day he's giving his oaths. There's an appreciation that floats from his gaze however, to each and every one, settling on each face with an awareness of what each person has brought to him and how they've helped his journey.

Orland's gaze goes to Natasha, a solemn nod for her. An automatic smile reserved for Savio, Giada getting a slight yes yes I know I owe you. Martinique an respectful 'hey homie' sort of eyebrow raise and head nod. Jasher probably gets a quick fist bump if he can manage it. Mailys a little finger wave and grin. Pasquale a chest puff and a chin raise, before a wide grinned smile in appreciation. Zoey a long respectful regard with a nod toward Savio, as if to say make sure he doesn't get into the wine! Medeia a thankful look and also a 'make sure Savio doesn't do anything too Savio while I'm not looking'. Caprice a homely recognition and Monique a look that is almost half expecting to party it up hard with her later - hey amigo. Giorgio gets a long look and probably a upnod too. Aconite a look of gratitude for being present. Corban and Akamos each in turn get a nod for their attendance as well, despite not quite recognizing them fully as some others.

There's a slightly amused grin from Martinique towards Savio and she answers his salute with a finger-wiggling gesture that is probably meant to convey 'sparkle sparkle'. Monique likewise gets an amused grin. Medeia gets a wink before Martinique sweeps somewhat in the direction of Natasha, joining those others hovering in the princess's orbit, though she does give a warm smile to Zoey. Then she'll settle to observe respectfully and whatnot. Someone has to front for Redreef today and it seems to be her.

While Orland greets his witnesses, Romulius lets his own gaze trail over the assembled. Typically, the Knight Commander might offer some sort of polite nod or give his own greetings to familiar faces, but the man's expression remains flat throughout. He is hardly the sort who would ever be accused of being especially whimsical, but today he seems particularly intent on offering all due reverence to a ceremony that possesses plenty of weight without his own additions. When the young lord finishes, there's a quick glance in his direction as though he means to confirm that he is ready to proceed. Addressing the group at large, attention sweeps broadly over each face as the Sword of New Hope speaks, "I doubt that I need to say much to impress upon any of you how much the Lord Orland Amadeo has grown since becoming a squire of the Order. I recall meeting him for the first time afterwards - he had just been subject to one of our former Grandmaster's rigorous trials in some sort of damnable sprint around the capital. It was in our headquarters in Arx. As difficult as it is to believe, Lord Orland seemed even younger then. In the short years since, he has matured considerably. He has found a match, strengthened his house." A quick glance to Savio braving an Isles winter, "He has accompanied our knights on a number of campaigns. He has served admirably in Bastion - both in its evacuation and its recapture. His background is perhaps not what one would consider archetypical of a knight, but he has in the time that I have known him proven himself a driven, honorable, and steadfast man."

That, though, is certainly true of a great number of people - some present, in all likelihood, but only one is swearing any oaths today. Romulius's gaze shifts between those who have already taken them in attendance that he's familiar with; East Light's number plenty, though the newly-named Knight Captain Jasher Thrax holds his attention a touch longer before it turns towards Corban, then Martinique as he continues, "The institution of knighthood demands more than that, however. Its titles are ones that I take as seriously as any others I possess. Every citizen of the realm is expected to entreat with their fellow man with courtesy and respect, to hold true to their word, to honor every bind that they might make. When one addresses a knight, though, there ought to be no question - their word should be more reliable than the rise and fall of the sun, their courage such that the gods above should feel secure in calling a knight their shield." On mentioning the value of honesty, his eyes shoot towards the statue of Limerance, and on courage it moves to Gloria. "They should be the fell hand of justice and the burning flame that lights the path ahead for those who face the darkness of our world, beacons of the many virtues of our Compact." The Sentinel, Lagoma, and Gild, then.

"Chivalry is doubtlessly an attribute that one would more readily associate with the Oathlands than the Lyceum or the Mourning Isles. Mangata's seas are a wild thing, after all, and her storms and tempests demand a pragmatism that might seem at odds with such oaths." He doesn't look towards the statue of the goddess behind him, with that, but a thumb rises from the hilt of the weapon in his hands to brush over the clasp of the fur cloak draped over his shoulders. "None could be blamed for such presumptions; the Order of East Light is a relatively novel collection of knights. The seas were without our presence for centuries, and there was no crumbling of civilization without our watch. I would never be so bold as to suggest that our service is any sort of salvation for those domains of Arvum that border on the seas." There's a touch of amusement that makes itself known in tone on the last words, but it finds no similar expression on his face. "Our Order, though, is a continuation of an ancient tradition."

Once more a hand leaves the hilt of his weapon to gesture around the courtyard that they gather in, clear indication to the far older stonework that the fortress has been rebuilt over. "Before the Reckoning, the Isles were home to brave men and women who defended our very way of life. When the Abyss poured into our world and ravaged west, towards Arx, it was here that they stood and braved the worst horrors that the Dream has ever known. There was no faltering, no hesitation - they had sworn their oaths, and they knew their duty. I say this to make it clear, Lord Orland, that the same will be expected of you. Whenever the Queen might call for your return to the Wheel, you will answer it, and you will do so with blade in hand. You have come here to swear the oaths that will bind you to such action, and so I will offer your opportunity to reconsider a final time." Stare, bright and burning, meets Orland's directly. "If you still possess the resolve to continue? Kneel, Orland Amadeo."

Medeia returns Savio's embrace and squeezes her friend's hand. Something like a 'who, me?" look is sent back to Orland. No one can keep Savio from doing anything too Savio. Something is said quietly to the Saffron islander before she finds herself giving Giorgio a surprised look. She says nothing further, though, instead giving Martinique and Natasha both acknowledgement. It's Corban who especially catches her eye, and she makes her way over to greet him politely before the ceremony fully begins.

Aconite wiggles her fingers in greeting to Savio with a small grin. To Orland, though the Whisper gives a small respectful dip of her head and a warm smile. She settles in, glancing around and a bevy of familar faces which seems to settle Aco despite the cold. But then there's talking and that draws Aco back towards the front to watch the cerimony.

Akamos stands and faces the ceremony, offering a polite bow of the head in return to Orland but remaining in his place, taking note of others for a time, but as the ceremony begins, the big man just watches attentively, trying to remember everything.

The Thraxian Voice's clerk, Jasper Torsney, seems to be doing much of the walking for his mistress, these days - the prevailing hours have seen the youth quietly move in and out of the Stronghold, usually with hands laden with messages to deliver to Natasha so she could quickly peruse them before returning them to his safekeeping. He lingers a foot or two behind her, ready to see to her needs or obey her directives - there are none presently, however, now that the ceremony has begun. A quiet word is exchanged with Jasher, her smile flitting near-imperceptibly at the corners, before a quiet greeting is dispensed towards Zoey when she approaches. With Martinique also drawing closer, a more serious, and appraising, gaze falls upon her, but the expression of subtle affability remains. Medeia, too, gets a greeting, her fingers lifting upwards in a wave towards the Eswynd lady.

Savio is being fine and totally on good behavior! He murmurs something to Zoey and Medeia, before remembering to sit down again, for the third time. At least he manages it before Romulius starts to speak and before the ceremony begins in earnest.

Corban seems pleased when Medeia makes her way over to him, a smile lighting up his lips from behind his barbute. "Lady Medeia," he says, brightly. "I hope you had a wonderful birthday and that you had a good journey for the ceremony. It is an honor to be the King's Own's and the Crown's representative as we welcome a new knight."

Giada smirks in amusement at Savio's air kisses and returns a sketch of a 'bow'. Very briefly, there's a flash of blue under the woman's coat as she pushes off the wall to join the man at his bench. However, for all her quiet and frozen puffs of air, her gaze zeros in when Romulius kicks things off. In that moment, she takes on a far more formal presence than her previous casual stance. Blessed Giada, Archlector of the Dark Reflection, is in attendence to support her protege.

Sitting alongside Savio and Mailys is Giorgio Pontelaeus. The Merchant Prince of Tremorus is reclined comfortably upon the sofa, outfit in cashmere and fireweave and conversing in quiet tones to Mailys and his brother. When Medeia turns a surprised look upon him, Giorgio lifts a hand in a friendly wave across the way.

Corban murmurs to Lady Medeia as she approaches, but spares a broad smile for Lady Monique and the Whisper next to her as the ceremony begins, seemingly pleased at that pairing. The glitter seems odd but he shakes his head, returning to Medeia.

Orland feels the impact of every witness that was with him this day, letting his eyes roam again over the crowd in all measures of appreciation. Not a single person is missed with the weighted gaze of his brown eyes, looking upon his brothers in arms who have taken oaths before him, and those of the squires yet to make their own decision to do the same. When Romulius begins the ceremony in full, he comes to a practiced motion of being at attention, something a little more rigid and conforming than what perhaps people are used to seeing him as. There's no doubt that this young man has lived a colorful life and that he's capable of being what the situation demands him to be, yet there was something in this present moment which was impactful and heavy. He understood the gravity of what this decision would bind him too, as Romulius explains it. As he's called to put to his mind one last time if he wanted to issue these oaths, he has no hesitation that delays him from taking that step and kneeling before Romulius directly.

When Orland falls to a knee, Romulius's gaze remains unwavering on the young squire - the witnesses might as well have faded away into oblivion, if his attention were the only determination of such things. The prince's gauntlets fall onto the hilt of the rubicund greatsword before him, fingers circling around it as he speaks, "When we are naught but dust, my lord, let our histories remember this moment - let the world know that on the twenty-fifth day of the third month, a thousand and seventeen years after the Reckoning, Lord Orland Amadeo knelt and swore himself to righteousness. Your words in these oaths will outlive us all a hundred times over."

Grip tightens, the cascade of ebon curls that fall from the Sword's head working with the cloak to both combat the winter's bite and the brilliant luster of his armor. "Do you swear your life, your sword, and your honor in service to the Order of East Light?" The gravity of the words are reflected in tone, a firm cadence entirely absent any sort of edge or mirth - he speaks as though he is interrogating the squire rather than elevating him to a knighthood, "Will you swear to defend the Compact, its citizens, its seas and its shores?" Their Order, after all, is one birthed on the waves of the very goddess before which they gather, the solemnity of the occasion broken up only by the fountain that pours from the marbled Mangata's outstretched hands, the occasional chatter from the witnesses, and their own speech. Another answer, and another question, "Will you swear to act with honor, with courtesy and dignity, and to bring no shame upon your titles or sworn brothers and sisters?" At last, gaze breaks away from Orland, falling upon each knight and squire of the Order present.

He waits for Orland's response once more before he continues.

"Will you swear to keep your word sacred, to tell no lies and to take no oaths that would interfere with your service?" It would be a forgivable thing for those less possessed to the ideas of personal pride and chivalry to think that some of the ceremony's gravitas is exaggerated. Romulius, though, seems to be afflicted with no such doubts, and his attention has returned to the lord kneeling in the snow to deliver more of the oath. "Will you swear to fight with courage, to give no quarter, and to bring the justice of the realm and the gods to our enemies?" This question is asked with more severity than any that preceded it, perhaps little surprise given the martial nature of the Order and the fact that he has just demanded a willingness to face death. It must be the final leg of his interrogation, as shoulders roll back with its delivery in preparation to declare his knighting complete.

Jasher nods once to Romulius, acknowledging his attentive glance in his direction. When Natasha leans in to murmur something, he receives it with a gentle bend of his torso in her direction, though his eyes do not stray from the ceremony as it is being conducted. A whispered response is delivered, though he promptly straightens his spine and squares his shoulders when Orland takes a knee.

Martinique exchanges a few discreet words with Natasha before she straightens again, folding her hands before her, and watches the solemn ceremony unfold, seeming to hang on every word. Or at least she is very good at faking it.

Giada's eyebrows arch when Romulius asks Orland to 'give no quarter'. The priestess doesn't seem to happy.

After giving quiet response to the First Captain, Medeia gives her attention to Orland and Romulius. Her head tilts slightly at some point, but she straightens it quickly and observes with a neutral expression.

Her whispers are soft but concluded in time once the ceremony begins in earnest, and Orland's knee hits the ground. Natasha's dark eyes fall upon the would-be knight, her smile curving further upwards at the sight; for now, there are no more words, just the vigil of one more prone to ruminative observances than actual speech. Occasionally, her gaze would wander - towards everyone else gathered, and especially Romulius at the front.

Orland is on one knee, his head bowed a little in the way of reverence for the weight of what's being asked him to speak before all those that are present - much like his vows he gave in his wedding there's that awareness that many people behind him watching are registering his answers as well as any unseen gods above. His shoulders rise and fall visibly as the only indication to the severity to which his nerves are trying to be held in check. This wasn't a performance! When asked the first, he acknowledges, "I do swear my life, my sword, and my honor in services to the Order of East Light." The drum of his baritone voice repeating that makes it an oath that hits the spot, "I so swear to defend the Compact, its citizens, its seas, and its shores." Bravura was a coastal county after all, it made sense why he ended up with the Order of East Light! He goes on, with those deep breaths in between, "I do so swear to act with honor, with courtesy, and dignity, and to bring no shame upon my own titles or that of my brothers and sisters." His head slightly pivots, some awareness of Jasher there too. The next makes him nod, "I do so swear to tell no lies and to take no oaths that would interfere, and I do so swear that I will fight with courage, give no quarter, and bring justice of the realm and the gods to our enemies."

Akamos is listening very carefully to each word of oath, his lips moving, as though he's mouthing the words as they're being said.. before he glances around to make sure noone saw him doing it, when there's a break in words of course.

Giada's eyes are dark and even a little angry, but she doesn't seem ready to stand up as Orland replies deftly.

With the oaths thus sworn, Romulius gives a final nod of acknowledgment to the commitment that Orland has just made. Wordlessly, tension cords behind diamondplate and the rubicund point of the greatsword is driven into the snow and earth beneath. It's left to rest unassisted as he turns, the seventh of the thirteen stone cups taken in a hand and lifted to Mangata's overflowing bounty. The water, as clear as the air itself and purer than anything one might find in the capital, fills the vessel. He turns about, gaze sweeping over the courtyard and falling upon each face in turn. "You bear witness now to the creation of new life. To give your word is an easy thing, with the knowledge that at any moment, 'convenience' might demand a change of heart. Orland Amadeo has offered more than his word, today - he has sworn an oath."

A turn of eyes downwards, back to the kneeling squire, the stone cup handed for his taking. "Drink, my lord. Wash away all doubt, and cleanse yourself of a life lived outside of service." When the vessel is emptied, he takes it back, returning it to its place at the statue of the goddess. "Rise, Orland Amadeo. Rise a knight of the Order of East Light." A hand reaches for the sword, gripping it by the ricasso to pull it from the ground as the newly-anointed knight stands. It's turned towards him, hilt first; the weapon is massive enough that it was clearly not forged for his hands in particular, but the Knight Commander leans forward to offer a hushed word in private as it's handed off to him.

With the deed thus complete, much of the air of gravity that had surrounded Romulius fades as though it were a conscious effort to release it. The prince is not the sort who would ever be confused for one of the Peerage's lighter souls, but he offers a forced smile to those gathered in the courtyard. "I thank you all for your attendance and for your support of a man I now possess to privilege to call a brother. You are all welcome in the Stronghold for as long as you might wish - for now, I would only ask that you congratulate the Compact's newest knight." A quick dip of head that falls well short of a bow before he clasps a hand over Orland's shoulder to turn him back towards those who've gathered to witness the ceremony.

Mailys sits amongst the Archlector Giada, Giorgio, and Savio as they watch the ceremony unfold. Intense enough is the exchange before her that she watches fascinated. The short, raven-haired woman listened the words of an oath be shared, understood, and then confirmed. She looked on towards Orland with great pride, as if he had done something more bold than she possibly expected. No one has likely ever seen her at one of these before. Then, something stirs the members of the couch, and quiet words are exchanged among all four. Mailys breaks away and is the first to jump to her feet as Orland is released from Romulius back towards the waiting crowd. Her clapping might have helped drown out the chatter. "Congratulations!"

Zoey is overheard praising Orland.

Aconitestands from her spot on the couch. The Whisper claps as well, glancing over at Mailys' enthusiasm and smiling wider as she agrees though her voice is quiet, "Congratulations!" She echoes in a quieter voice.

Savio looks skyward at something uttered in the ceremony, then draws a breath in and musters a smile! Maybe he is just worried it will snow. Of course he adds his applause, when the deed is done! Finally he can stop trying to pronounce 'squire', among the worst words of the Arvani language, thank the gods.

Aconite is overheard praising Orland.

Giada stands smoothly, clapping for Orland as his oaths are finished. While she lets the others swarm the new Knight, she walks over to Romulius. She stands beside him, facing the other direction with her hands in the pockets of her longcoat. Voice pitched to carry not at all, she speaks.

Giorgio rises from the couch where he had been sitting alongside the rest and joins the other witnesses in a round of applause for Orland.

Zoey raises her voice in congratulations with the others, but when she notices Savio's reaction she says something more quietly to him alone.

Orland exhales a long breath as he's told that he's sworn an oath. Why did that hit so heavily?! It should. Oath's mean everything in the Compact. His eyes lift up toward the cup handed to him and he accepts it with steady hands, taking a long drink from the said cup as if it were to help wash away the old life and allow him to be cleansed for the new. He has to drink it all apparently! GLUG GLUG. It's so cold though! Once he's emptied it he hands the cup back and rises to the celebration of becoming a knight. Oh the weight of that! But too the celebration of what he's done to get here, turning a short smile to Romulius before he salutes one fist over his chest with a thump of his gauntleted hand with a nod, "Thank you Knight Commander." The sword that's turned toward him is a surprise one would say, but the Amadeo takes it of course with another soft word returned in kind. He pivots at the end and turns toward those who have come here to celebrate, with the sword in hand and then lifts it for the first time - he needs two hands to do it but that's fine! He celebrates with a grin and a celebration holler!

Savio is overheard praising Orland.

Pasquale politely applauds along with the others.

Orland wields Tiderender, a rubicund greatsword.

Martinique applauds along with the other witnesses, her face splitting into a grin. Whatever she may think of her own recent knighthood, this is something the young lord wanted, and so she will congratulate his achievement.

Monique puts her hands together for Orland. Clap. Clap. Clap. Nice and slow. Her smile is wide. And if her eyes drift over to Savio every now and again, well, who can blame her?

THE DEED IS DONE, and far be it from Savio to turn down a dramatic moment, when the sword is lifted he takes a moment to introduce on the heels of Rom's congratulations... "Knight Orland Amadeo!" Now they can all get drunk.

Because Savio pre-drank, everyone needs to catch up.

Akamos moves up to Orland and nods. "Hey, congratulations, sir." He says, and offers a polite and practiced bow to the other man, but he doesn't offer much more than that, espeically as things start to turn more toward celebrating.

Romulius seems surprised by something the Archlector of the Thirteenth says, but his response is muted, carrying no further than Giada's ears when his brow finally lowers.

Tiderender is a familiar sight to her - it had followed her husband in battle before she had gifted him Bainteoir. While Natasha doesn't stand to congratulate the Compact's newest knight, she *does* clap for him, her smile growing more visible as felicitations pour in from all around the courtyard. "Congratulations, my lord Amadeo," she says, voice raised just enough to carry across the courtyard, along with a glance towards her husband. The conference he has with the Archlector of the Thirteenth draws a vein of curiosity from her, but otherwise she doesn't ask to be moved there to inquire.

Medeia applauds the conclusion of the ceremony and slips away from Corban toward her guard at the perimeter of the courtyard. Rather than join the press of bodies that will inevitably be around Orland the rest of the evening, she makes her way out of the fortress entirely. He will likely receive a very nice letter later.

Mailys offers Romulius a greeting nod of her head as he nears Giada at the couch. She stops short of interrupting.

Orland clasps arms with Romulius if he can, after he lowers the two handed sword, settling it's point down by his side. He'll need a few more years of heavy lifting weight training to manage it well in battle, but it's a very good leaning sword presently and he's very grateful for it. "Thank you!" Orland says to the congratulations from Aconite, grinning, watching Savio for a brief moment, but his attention pivots to Giada to watch where she goes, and to his brother Giorgio he grins at, then Akamos has his attention. "Thank you, uhmm.. Lord?" he wonders with a curiosity of not having met the man before. A side eye for Romulius and Giada before his brows pop up and he looks to Natasha, "Thank you Natasha. It's really good having you here. Do you hug? Are you... okay to hug?" He wonders over her condition, but he definitely looks to Medeia with a bigger grin, waving, "Thank you for coming!!"

Akamos shakes his head quickly. "No, no, Akamos Cyrto'ani, Trident of Caer Morien." He offers in introduction. "Honored to meet you, sir." He continues.

Aconitesmiles to Orland and bows a bit. She leans to murmur to Monique and Pasquale before looking towards the sky and slipping off before the celebration can get too tempting.

Aconite has left the the cozy couch of the Astounding Amadeo.

Savio has left the A comfortable couch.

Caprice gets East Light - Golden Spiced Rum from Beverage Barrels.

Giorgio gets East Light - Golden Spiced Rum from Beverage Barrels.

Giada inclines her head to Romulius and mutters something before giving him a smirk. Whatever happened seems to be over. "You have a good man in Sir Orland," she says softly. "Try not to get him killed, would you?" A quick grin and she's off to see her protege herself.

Martinique will hang back a bit and let others get their congratulations in first, mostly to avoid crowding folks. But then she'll make her way up and clap Orland on the shoulder. "Congratulations, my Lord. The Countess sends her congratulations as well, but she was coerced into dinner with an Oathlander and I hope you understand the level of sacrifice she considers that." It's said jokingly. "Also I love the glitter all four of you brought home." She won't make more comment than that, orbiting away to let others have their chance.

With whatever sidebar had taken place between Romulius and Giada seemingly resolved, the prince offers a deferential dip of head to the Archlector. "I thank you for attending, Blessed, and for your patronage of Lord Amadeo." Then she's off, and the Knight Commander pivots after a quick nod of recognition is offered to Mailys. His strides carry him towards Jasher, a nod offered along with a quick clasp of his shoulder before he leans in to offer a hushed word.

Savio is making himself useful handing out bottles of rum to those who want them, and pouring from a couple other bottles into glasses for those who want just want to have less than an entire bottle. He seems fairly distracted about it, as people who already have some are often getting offered a second time, but maybe he's just feeling festive! He has yet to join those well-wishing the Knight of the Hour, and encourages others, "Go up and well-wish him, but do not let all the attention go to his head!" Teasing.

A hug? There's only the briefest hesitation, before Natasha lifts up her working arm. "I'm afraid that the best I can do is a one-armed embrace," she tells Orland with a hint of a smile. "But you are welcome to one if you wish it. I'm very happy for you, my lord. I expect to see many a great deed from you from this day forward. No pressure."

Savio does bow a bit to Martinique, from afar, at catching the mention of glitter. He may or may not be responsible for it, but he's clearly all on board with it.

Mailys whistles cheerfully amused and completely unrelated to what Martinique mentions an Oathlander and her Countess. It must be the drink she's not drinking. "Giorgio, this means Savio gets a statue of Orland in the garden to dress up, doesn't it?" Was that another transition?

Jasher leans in to share a brief word with Romulius as he approaches. Whatever it is that Romulius says in confidence to him elicits a rare smile to his face, one that he's hard-pressed to suppress. Thereafter, he breaks from his position to approach Orland and extend a hand to him for a firm shake. "Congratulations, my lord," he says warmly. "Welcome to the Order, formally. I look forward to serving side-by-side."

Monique grins brightly to Martinique at the mention of the glitter. She waves her black glittering hands with obvious pleasure.

Savio tries to give Mailys a drink even though she already has one, and leans in to murmur something to her.

Orland slowly nods, "Akamos Cyrto'ani, well met." He looks over the man for a brief moment, then wonders, "Thank you, good to meet you as well. Are you a prospect?" He wonders then looks toward his brothers in arms, trying to see where Jasher got up too, but then he's side eyeing Giada again as she's speaking to Romulius - sort of like how one would expect a young man to be wondering what his mom is up to! Okay well in this case what his patron is up to. Martinique of course wobbles him a bit with her clap, "Hah! Thank you. I heard you had to undertake similar oaths lately?" He grins impishly, "My apologies that I wasn't there for you, but thank your Countess of course, for her blessing." He sighs a little about the glitter and nods, "I tried... to remove it with everything I had. But like, I'd think it was gone, but then it wasn't! It got /everywhere/..." He glances to Romulius then, but doesn't interfere with whatever happened there, eyes turning toward Savio, giving him a sudden flat eyed look as if half expecting Savio to be saying something totally not the truth. Natasha does get the one armed embrace, leaning down to offer it to her, "Rightttt... great deeds. Haven't I done enough?" He says with a sheepish laugh followed by a wink. Jasher of course gets a hearty arm clasping shake and Orland will try to bring it in! Bro hug. "That'll never change, Captain!"

Orland gets Beverage Barrels.

"He's worth keeping around, isn't he?" Giada finally makes it up to Orland and gives him an upnod with a rakish smirk. "My my, look at you now. -Sir- Fancy Pants."

Martinique gives Savio a thumbs up of approval, herself. She isn't one of those who has to shimmer brightly for a...however long this is going to last. She'll make her way towards the fourth glitter victim/joyful recipient, however, and offer a bright smile to Monique as well. "The Countess wished me to send thanks for the painting--it is quite well done and very much in the style of Redreef."

"I am a squire, under princess Terese, training to be a knight, so when I heard about this, I thought it would be good to be here and learn." Explains Akamos. "Congratulations again, sir." He offers with a bow, before he starts making his way along.

Monique bows her fiery head to Martinique. "The Countess is most welcome. She is... vivid in her inspiration."

"The gods demand that one try to lead as exemplary of a life under their ideals for the rest of it, my lord," Natasha tells Orland and while she remains straight-faced through it, the unmistakable glimmer of humor lights up dark eyes like embers. "I'm afraid there's no such thing as 'enough'." Releasing the young man gently from that brief - and slightly awkward - hug, she lowers her fingers back to her lap, and turns her attention back to the rest of the gathering, resting ultimately on Jasher and Romulius at their quiet conference nearby, her smaller frame darkened by both their shadows.

Mailys turns away from Giorgio to speak with Savio, there is nodding, smiling, an grip on his arm that is sharp with concern, and then a squeeze of support before she lets go. "Alright. Give me your hand," she says with a excitement strumming her voice to Savio, "I owe you now. Witnesses and all, Amadeo."

With whatever surely princely wisdom was offered to Jasher thus dispatched, Romulius leaves his fellow prince wearing a grin of his own as he routes towards Natasha, collecting himself back into the usual severe expression by the time he reaches her. "I would ask if the cold were a bother, but-" He certainly knows it isn't. His eyes drift towards Orland and his parade of well-wishers, contentment in pride reflecting more in his gaze than anywhere else in his expression. "I trust you've moved your office to Maelstrom, for the time being?" The words come after are quieter, delivered with a lean forward to keep them from reaching further than his wife.

Caprice is all for taking a bottle, -and- a glass, with thanks to the noble pourer and a question about unrelated celebrations that is really probably too complicated for casual chatting in a queue. With refreshment(s) in hand, she's soon moving away from Savio and towards those clustering for a moment of Orlando's time.

Having delivered messages, praises, congratulations--Martinique makes her way on out of the courtyard then, and out from the fortress. It's a cold night yet, and she's a bit of a ways to go, but the warm interlude certainly helped.

Savio gives Mailys's hand a squeeze, and fails to let go. He forgot. She will have to extricate herself. "Now that the formal words are over, we," it's the royal we, Savio gestures to himself, "Have some words to say to the man of the hour." Savio's brows lift, and he continues. "You have chosen a difficult path, Orland, and I think perhaps you alone fully grasp the depth and challenge of the commitment. You are who you are, and now this honor has been added to it. Stand proudly, act with courage, and rise to the confidence we hold in you. I am with you always." A glass lifted! Cheers!

Giada spots Monique and Caprice finally and gives them both quick grins of greeting. Then she shivers. "Orland, I'm expecting whiskey and really soft furs for this," she mutters. "Dragging me all the way out here." The Lenosian is apparently no longer warmed by zeal, and the loss is a cruel one. Savio speaks, she quietly tries to stomp her bootied feet, and the cap comes off the rum. Straight to the head, because a glass just makes it colder; at least it's a delicate sip from the bottle. Very ladylike.

Orland pivots at hearing -Sir- Fancy Pants, his brows jumping up a bit, good humor in his expression though, "They're not too tight are they?" He nods briefly to Akamos and wishes him well before his attention strays back to Natasha, chortling, "You're right of course. There is never enough." Never enough cake either! Or rum! He wishes farewell to those who seek a little warmer place to gather, trying to shake hands and nod to each one who came out. "I'm glad you came out Caprice, how've you been keeping?" Orland asks of her when she figures her way into the cluster, his arm swaying to wave off Martinique, before he looks to Mailys and Savio. Savio brings on the WORDS. A TOAST. Someone hands him a drink and he lifts a glass of rum to that, nodding to his husband! Huzzah! And a strong realization that those words couldn't be truer!

Mailys gets a vial dusky viscous fluid from long black leather belt with golden details.

Monique lifts her flask in the wake of Savio's words, softening just a little. And the next motion sees the Minx returning a wave to Giada.

Mailys looked very observantly of Savio as they make a promise. The two hold hands as if there were a connection or unspoken battle, it was hard to tell because the moment it connected their moods flickered, and changed focus. Everything was great. A toast have her a moment to dig in a silken pouch at her belt.

"What were the both of you conspiring back there?" Natasha wonders as Romulius wanders back to her, lips brushing lightly on his cheek in greeting once he leans in close, before pulling back to meet his cerulean eyes - always a draw for the princess whenever he is near. Remarks about her office provokes a slightly broader smile, a tilt of her head given to her husband. "You know that my office is where I am at a given moment," she quips. "The work doesn't stop even when I'm away from a desk, especially when I can find one in a pinch." There is a pause when the man whispers to her, before replying quietly after flashing him a faint look of consternation.

"I look forward to spring," Caprice responds on a low laugh to Orland. Such a polite way of whinging about the cold! Someone's been taking etiquette refresher courses. Not looking to out-toast anyone, the smile Savio's words inspire extends to Orland and she murmurs her own congratulations to the knight; raising her hand in distant greeting towards Giada, she uses that brief connection as a convenient excuse to continue on through the congratulatary line to give Orland more breathing room.

It was ridiculously cold out regardless of all the fires that were made and slowly the party drifts into places that contain more personal comforts! Smaller places contain the heat better - whether that's private rooms, cabins on ships, or simply the great hall where the fireplaces were roaring. Orland, being that he was the newest member of the Order of East Light, stayed up impossibly late with the celebrations in the Great Hall, trying to keep up to whatever drinking contests or shenanigans the other older knights put him up to - arm wrestling? Probably happened, at least once, if not a half a dozen times - drinking from a horn?! Absolutely! For everyone who came to witness, a generous feast was put on to warm the bellies beyond that of the spirits, whiskies, and rums passed around. There was dancing too - every good party has a hired band and some jolly music of the locale variation! At some point Orland was leaning in too hard on Savio from all the drink to his head and someone suggested they get a room - and guess what, they do have one somewhere! A much safer place to sleep than on one of the tables - though guests are for sure welcome to sleep on or underneath any table if they couldn't find their way to their own rooms for the evening. A proper good way to celebrate a new life, and a new step forward.

Giada has left the A comfortable couch.