The cloaked and hooded figure commanding the ceremony Kryil knew only as Oxet; his identity was a mystery not to be disclosed to anyone but Kryil himself, along with the rest of the head priesthood, but only after the successful completion of the extraction ritual presently in process.
Kryil had welcomed him into their settlement in the chapel in Mullonde that morning. He had a deep, grizzly voice—that of a hume—but his appearance was well hidden under his black goblin's face mask and hooded cloak.
"Welcome my Lord," Kryil had said to him, with a slight bow of his head. "Inside you will find all is prepared."
As it was. As had been seen to over the course of the day, after Kryil and his instruments arrived at the northern gate of the dead city the night before with the offering. The offering had proved most uncooperative, however—indeed all throughout their journey—which necessitated ever stronger doses of hoar thistle, and they were very low in supply of the herb as a consequence of this.
"I have with me the items you had requested as well," Oxet says. "So there should be no more trouble from our offering."
"Very good, my Lord," Kryil replies, stepping aside to make way for the man into the candlelit interior of the chapel. "We entertained no doubt of your ability to provide for us in this time."
Oxet strides into the place with the confidence and ease of one who was familiar with the place: it would seem he knew these surroundings to some extent. Mullonde, after all, though fallen and abandoned for centuries, was a hotspot (or so Kyril had heard) for illegal activity of all kinds.
Lesalia Castle was the same as he'd remembered it. Upon being received through the gate, having crossed through the bustling city square and its throng of people—Lesalians and tourists alike, shoppers and merchants—with no small practice of patience, Maiandros, his back and behind feeling quite sore now, descends Lorenzo, his trusted black chocobo which he'd chosen from its coop in Lionel country over five years prior and for a fourth of the value, bunching up the end of his reign in his glove.
"Welcome to Lesalia, Sir Maiandros," says one of the outpost guards, approaching Lorenzo and the Knight with some caution. "You are expected."
"Thank you," Maiandros replies. "Would you mind I walk Lorenzo to your stables myself, or at least accompany you there?" He turns and looks up into Lorenzo's face; the fierce bird's eyes have grown skittish. "He is like to be a little overwhelmed at this point without me around to reassure him…" He turns back to the guard. "With the crowds and all…"
The guard looks up at the chocobo then back to Maiandros, his frown twisting into an obliging sort of half-smile. "O-oh, yes—of course!" He clicks the heels of his boots and salutes him. "Of course, Holy Knight! Right this way!"
After he had seen after Lorenzo confined to his stable—the bird was placed in the company of a couple of gregarious chocobos on either side and with plenty of straw in his stable much to his squawking joy—Maiandros was led to the top floor of the Bursese Tower, Glabados headquarters in the Royal Palace, where he was met with Holy Knights Agrias Oaks and Lady Aerith Gainsborough.
Agrias was a quite visibly hardened woman, with a face chiseled it would seem out of sheer determination to escape her initial circumstances. (As Maiandros had been told by Father Barrebek, Oaks was abandoned by her theater actor parents as an infant, then found and accepted into the convent to be raised as a Wife—before, that is, her natural predisposition to warriorship—her fighter's spirit—made itself evident and so enabled her initiation into Holy Knighthood.) She projected a sort of masculine-feminine beauty—a face of soft angles, penetrating eyes and a scar on her chin—long brown hair flowing over her armor when not concealed in her helmet.
In contrast to Agrias' origin, Lady Aerith Gainsborough was of noble birth. Hers was a classically feminine disposition, with figure and face so delicate-seeming Maiandros was a bit taken aback upon seeing this girl in her breastplate and armor. But perhaps, he figured inwardly, this slender air of hers was a totem of her unique power and skill in the Holy Arts.
At any rate, he felt honored to be standing before the both of them.
"It is my privilege," says Lady Aerith, in a bird-shy, timorous voice and with a slight bow of her head upon Father Ulrick's introducing Maiandros to them. "I have heard good things."
Maiandros bows his head in return. "And I of you," he replies, and exchanges a look with Agrias standing beside Aerith and whose eyes would seem to be regarding him with a sort of reflexive suspicion. "Of you both, of course. Father Barrebek sends his blessings."
Father Ulrick, smiling, looks from the two women to Maiandros and back. "It is fortunate for us the three of you make acquaintance," he says, and turns again to Maiandros. "By the Gods you have made it here unharmed." He takes a step back from them and straightens. "Together the three of you form a worthy trifecta against the powers of darkness outside these walls." He smiles. "Surely we have nothing to worry about."
"Let us hope so," says Maiandros, "but let us not be too quick to abandon worry." He looks to Aerith and Agrias, who would both seem to agree: it would be wise for this turn to cheery hopefulness to be tempered with a good bit of caution; without a dash of cynicism to offset it, such youthful confidence—a lily-white innocence inevitably outraged—was too easily turned against itself and to the dark.
Which was why a healthy streak of the dark was in this profession not only necessary to cultivate—or, at any rate, to own, to accept—but fundamental, and without which the supposed Holy or Divine Knight stood no chance.
Maiandros catches himself here and turns to shift the mood about them back to its initial full-heartedness. "But hope first," he says, turning back to Ukrick with a slight smile and gentle bow of the head, "over all else, as ever." He turns back to the two lady Knights. "By the Gods."
Outside, on the terrace, the three Knights are introduced to the Squire Owl. Owl had begun as a nightwatch before being welcomed, despite his being an animal which would normally have him refused from all Internal roles, into a position as Assistant in the Royal Library. The bird's aptitude for scholarship was impressive indeed, and before long his opinion was sought after by none other than the Duke himself.
He had, additionally, quite the gift for the gab.
"I herald from the Far East, from Odalia," the Squire Owl says, after their introductions, though rather unprompted. "I was most fortunate to have been discovered here in Lesalia, where my parents had settled just outside the state and in their wisdom encouraged my assimilation into central Lesalian life." He clears his throat at this point, adjusts his armor plate by a quick waddle in place. "I had an aptitude for knowledge—as is not uncommon for our species—and quickly—well, not so quickly perhaps—found myself desired in the Court." He exchanges a look with Father Ulrick. "I owe my life to the wisdom of the Church and the Crown both."
Father Ulrick bows his head respectfully. "We are fortunate to have you with us." He turns back to Maiandros, to Agrias and Aerith. "As are you three, with Owl to accompany you. He should prove most useful to you, the storehouse of knowledge that he is."
"More than that," says Owl, "I would venture to say I'm something of a charm." He hoots to himself. "As a nightwatch, I was known by my mere presence to uphold the men's collective morale in those dire situations—in the face of certain barbarisms, attempts at invasion…" He clears his throat. "I am honored to accompany you. Where your Holy Knights' intuition might fail you, I should be ready to provide by my own learned insight."
Aerith smiles kindly. "We are indeed lucky to have you, Owl." She exchanges a look with Ulrick. "I trust Ulrick's decision. I can already feel a sense of security in our combined powers."