The group set off three weeks later. They were starting to run low on money, and challenging the local champions’ income was a fast way to catch an arrow in the back. So they set their destination for Fairview, with intentions of doubling back to Deepwatch when they had recovered.

Velwrith’s ribs still ached fiercely, and Valasta couldn’t walk, but they made due.

They rode for a month across the coastal planes of Thenia’s heartland, traveling along the coast of The Dragon Sea, home by the Myrmish. Theiass fished up exotic beasts from those salty waters for dinner every night. At the same time, Odordious crafted a camp fit for a king with nothing but water and a spectacular proclivity for building sandcastles.

In the city, they found a warm welcome from Tok’Pathris, and Emmeriss’s extended large family, the delay causing great concern. They stayed in the lord’s manor mending for four more weeks. That was except for two.  Emmeriss chose to help with his parent's bathhouse, and  Chalco spent his stay in jail for banditry. 

 Nightly, Velwrith would duel Pathris, and nightly the old man would leave him flat on his back. But while they fought, and Pathris inevitably won, they would talk. The elderly spearman had become a confidant, separate enough for honesty but close enough to be familiar.  Through these duels, Pathris learned everything about what had happened, and his seasoned mind went to work.

While Velwrith trained with the region's lord, Valasta received constant medical attention; something Kal’Saeria coveted as her responsibility to oversee. Daily she would direct the local physician in inspecting the wizard’s injury, applying as much of her skill in magic and medicine as the doctor. Unfortunately, Valasta’s Achilles tendon had snapped, his kneecap wholly pulverized, and his tibia splintered. Due to the crippling nature of all three, none could ethically be transferred on to a willing recipient. His only hope for recovery was that someone might be capable of rebuilding the leg almost entirely.  

The physical limitations never bothered the wizard; he primarily complained of the constant fussing. He only admitted to suffering great pain when pressed and threatened with more doctors and clergy folk. Finally, she gave him a powerful opiate from Chilliey, her homeland, to address the discomfort. The drug was called mage bane, and it did two things: blunted physical sensations and caused mana-burn to manifest at thrice one's regular rate. The latter caused the mage frustration as it completely debilitated his ability to perform any form of magic. 

The party generally mended, including the freshly paroled Chalco, conspired to leave after Tok'Pathris announced Velwrith’s next task. The Lord gathered his loyalists and guardsmen to his courtroom the evening Velwrith declared their preparedness during a duel.

#

Finding themselves in a vast long hall, the party stood splayed out in a line before the noble court of Fairview, except Valasta, who sat in a chair on a far wing.  They received no introductions here, needing none. Instead, the lord dove headlong into his speech the moment they all stopped moving.

Pathris's stern voice boomed across the crowd without looking at anyone in particular. "Good people, I thank you for your time. We gather now so you might each act as a witness. Listen now, for I proclaim the potential Lightbringer's trail of wisdom to be ending the feud between the Teklem of  Fairview and the Valdrath of Cavensmaw. I ask that force not be used but grant all right to defense of one's self, one’s companions, and that of the innocent.”

The lord took a deep breath, deeper than Velwrith though a humanoid body could hold, before continuing in the same pitch, tone, and volume. “ Do you accept Velwrith?” 

The prince stepped forward, bowed, then knelt. “I do accept, in my own name and that of my companions. We will not let you down,” he said.

The elf lord laced his fingers around his ancient spear haft and smiled. “Come forward, champions, let these good people see your glory! Speak Lightbringer, what does your band call itself?”

While his companions, save the chair-bound Valasta, stepped to kneel beside him. Velwrith drew a freshly polished antique box from his pack. “I have not discussed it properly with my companions, but ever since I found these…” he opened the box, eight of the original nine speaking stone daggers glistened inside. ” I have called our group The Brothers of the Mithral Dagger.”

Kal’Saeria snorted loudly, “I’m nobody's brother.”

The crowd was a wash of ahhs and laughter. Both came in roughly equal measure from every direction.

“Perhaps we might call ourselves an order, keeping with the spirit of a brotherhood and all...” Valasta interposed.

An awkward lull fell over the courtiers, Theaiss snickered. At the same time, Odorious’s skin took on a rosy hew, and Betsy rolled her eye before Emmeriss’s boyish voice interrupted, “I think Silver Blades sounds much better than mithal daggers.” 

The ancient lord chuckled, stroking his wispy beard with one hand and clutching his spear with the other.“So it does, so it does, do you agree, Lightbringer?” 

Velwrith nodded, saying, “I do; Order of the Silver Blades it is then.” 

The lord's hands shot outwards in a broad, powerful movement. “Rise then, Silver Blades! Tonight we feast, and tomorrow you will go with my blessing come the first rays of dawn!”

Raising both his fist and spear over his head, the lord shouted, a sound like thunder and drums. “All hail the Lightbringer and The Order of Silver Blades!”

The crowd burst into applause as the group collected a dagger one by one, leaving only one in the box, then they departed from the chamber.