Hello again, just a reminder to read Panthaboi again, gives more context and the stories are going to be in a coherent style, so reading both will help your understanding. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2: Ascension

Roughly two weeks after the Blackstones last stand at the Shard, the Lord Warden gifted the Walled City to the Templars, a monument to show his gratification towards the Legion. Honour, Aqua and the rest of the Templar made the place their new home, a new start for them. They built upon the already magnificent city, turning it into a sprawling utopia. Here was where Draven would begin his training. Many of the Elders had suggested he take up the mantle of a Warden, from his exemplary skill with a sword. Once he had journeyed into the catacombs, he saw a graves' monument to a man with a long-sword and by his side, a kite shield. This is when he had chosen to become a Black Prior.

The sun shone through the small slit windows in the Squires communal bed chamber. Draven was the first to be awoken, images of war and death jostled for attention in his mind. He was still haunted from the moment an arrow had burst through Ulfrics throat, and the only thing he could see was the fear, the pure, inescapable fear that had gripped that man as he knew he was going to die. Draven looked at the reflection from his helmet. He saw a strong, toned man with jet black hair and dull brown eyes. His skin was mildly tanned from staying in the desert for nearly a year. It had just been his eight-teenth birthday and he was still a squire. The boy in the bed adjacent turned to face him and whispered, "Ready to get your arse beat again?". Draven merely smiled and looked down at the other man. "Hold your tongue, Edwin! You may think that Valencia will forbid me my ascension, but trust me, I won't fall this time."

"And that is exactly the same thing you said the past... five times...? Or was it six? My memory fails me!"

Edwin began to laugh as the both walked to seperate private chambers, carrying their armour and getting ready for the harsh day of training under the fury of the sun and their masters. Draven knew that he had to ascend to a Man-at-Arms but everytime he fought Valencia, he had lost. But this time he had a plan, and one that would both win the fight and impress his master.

Draven had just finished getting into his armour when a voice bellowed out, "When will you learn, boy!", Aqua slammed open the door to his quarters and approached him, "In actual fact I shouldn't be calling you boy, should I? Whilst I went on an expedition in Valkenhiem, you have reached your eight-teenth year and for what? I assumed that being in this legion for nearly a year would have given you ample time to become at least a Man-at-Arms, not still stuck as a Squire!", Draven looked up at Aqua and stayed silent. These outbursts of unbridled frustration were almost a daily occurrence. Aqua even threatening to remove him from the Legion a couple of times beforehand. "Who is it today, hmm? Oh, yes, that's right, you will be fighting Valencia! He has beaten you more times than I can recall. All because you are adamant you can withstand his shield bash. Draven, he is a Conquerer and a fine one at that. You know how to beat them so seize the opportunity."

"But what about what I am.", Draven calmly replied. "You always talk about people and the way they fight and how to best them... for a Warden. I am not a Warden am I? I use a shield and blade, meaning I am a-" Aqua grabbed him by the scruff of his neck "I do not care if you are a Black Prior, you have not mastered your Bulwark stance and without it you are just another foot soilder. By the end of this month, you will fight a Man-at-Arms. Win and you ascend, lose and...", Aqua trailed off and pushed him away. He walked away, silent, until he reached the door, "Do not make it that my training means nothing".

Draven trudged out into a sand smothered training ground, and picked up his sword and shield. Staring straight ahead of him, he saw Valencia. A powerhouse, built purely of muscle and steel, his armour seemed part of him. The combatants stood at the ready when both the seneschal and king of the Templars strode out. After a brief pause the king spoke, "Today, Draven, you not only fight for your honour, you fight for this legion. Valencia is no longer your friend, or your brother. He is but an obstacle in the way of your journey as a Templar. Remember what Aqua has taught you and may the greatest warrior win!"

Valencia started to swing his flail at his side, charging up an attack. He let fly and it smashed down unto Dravens' raised shield. Then it began, Valencia releasing a flurry of blows upon Draven, hitting him continously, wearing down his strength until, finally, Draven was struggling to hold his own. Valencia summoned all his strength into one final attack, a shield bash, which would knock him down and claim his victory.

Draven looked at his opponents feet and saw them shuffle forward a tiny bit, readjusting his stance so that he could end this fight, Draven followed suit and bid his time. At the last moment, just before the shield stuck him, he crouched, letting the conqueror push with all his might until Draven flipped him over his shoulder using a perfect Bulwark Counter and swirled around, pointing his crooked blade at the mans throat. "We are done here...", Draven muttered and Valencia threw away his shield and flail. Aqua and Honour stood at the side of the arena, in awe at what had happened. He was a Squire no more.

"As a Black Prior, you are not only promoted, but you have ascended also.", Aqua remarked, "Meaning that you must endure one more test. Are you willing to do this?". Both master and apprentice were now in the catacombs, infront of them a statue of Vortiger, the leader of that order. "What must I do?", Aqua turned to him and produced an ornimental dagger. "You must recieve your mark...". A procession of cloaked figures entered he chamber, two of them grabbing Draven by the arms and forcing him to his knees. An old man grabbed him by his hair and then took the dagger from Aqua. "What is this? Let me go! What have I done to deserve to die?!" The elder looked at him and snarled, "Quiet. Hold still." The man carefully scratched a mark of The Priors into Dravens forehead, a circle with lines at regular intervals.

Draven screamed, as dropplets of blood trickled down his face. And infront of him, a mirage had consumed the old man and the chamber. He saw the Vikings that had killed his family and carving the mark into his flesh was a spectre of Ulfric. Dravens unconscious body slumped to the floor and the Priors walked out. Aqua picked the him up, and began carrying him up to the church. He then looked down at his apprentice and whispered, "I'm sorry..."

Again, thank you so much for reading this, part 3 will come out as soon as it's ready. Hope you enjoyed and see you next time!