WMMAP: нєανєη'ѕ ¢нιℓ∂

8: ᴀ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ.

Elaine standing a little ways away, a smart uniform of dove white with gold upon her shoulders as she bows to Athanasia as she walks by before following her up to the podium.

People were lined up, almost all were lower to middle nobility from various places, and had gotten some training with the sword. Mana users were hard to come by, but there were still a few that could make up a squadron that stood to the side from the rest.

Some gape at the way she steps up to the platform, their eyes following her every move, and some seem to second guess their judgment about throwing everything away to be in her army.

The way her cape drapes over her shoulder, the silver epaulet highlighting the entirety of the black uniform as its sole emphasis on the color, or lack of it. 

A small brooch at her throat, just to keep the tie in place as she feeds her mana into the gem, getting it ready to amplify her voice to everyone in the area.

They all still at the way she faces them, a brilliant smile lighting up her face before it falls down and even the sky seems to dim with the lack of her happiness.

"You have all come from a place that didn't need you there. Didn't want you to be in the way of future successors, or were going to be sold for capital gains. Perhaps you wish to prove to yourself or to others that you are not just here as their tool or their leftovers, always to be their second choice."

Her clear voice echoes with the help of magic and many in the crowd find themselves nodding at her words. "I am making a place where you can find yourself, your being, should you choose to follow me- you will be part of a reckoning that is so great, we will create an empire that will not come to its knees before any country before us!"

Some didn't voice their protests of Obelia, but they knew of what was to come in their futures. It was an empire that was great, powerful, but it was not what they wished to stand for any longer. What use was an empire that did not support them? What use was an empire that would soon die, should a figurehead take its head?

Some did not raise their voices at the small figure they could see, but their doubts were clear, for how could a princess know of their sufferings?

Surely they had all heard of her being abandoned by the emperor, but still, she lived without worry in a palace, without wants nor desires, but the people in the crowd who were gazing steadily at her eyes instinctively know. 

Ah- she wasn't just a person they could go up against, but to give their loyalty to?

They could, no, they would make that happen.

To mold as a craftsperson would a piece of clay pottery, as they glazed it to make porcelain, to build up something with her own two hands.

Something that would not be easily broken with a twist of her wrist and contact with a floor, for if someone can go up, they can go down, and the higher up one goes, the further they can fall.

For if an end truly existed, Athanasia would find it within the darkness of the void that ceased to be when she breathed.

She would pray until her hands rotted off her wrists, and even then she would whisper praises to the all-knowing of the heavenly skies. Those hymns of golden wings and eyes of platinum hues, let it be known she would make sure to witness her final salvation at the hands of the goddess of being.

Mikhail, who had wandered about after his kingdom had fallen, finds himself shaken by such a princess, places his hand on the sword at his hip, rubbing his thumb against the gem that turned a dark blue as he watched the one who he would pledge to, his lips mouthing the words that he had always wanted to say, but never found the suitable person, until today.