Justin
The *Custos Regni* Stood on either side of the path he walked that divided the participants of the Festival in two, both hands firmly grasping the spear that they wielded upright and against the ground, close to their chests and almost touching their faces, every armored soldier shoulder-to-shoulder with another. There amidst them walked the King eternal: His Majesty, the great monarch of the Regni Medeas. With a scepter of radiant red in his right hand, he appeared from no more than air itself, brought directly to Sanctum Mesa by some sort of long-range transportation spell: a dimensional doorway.

Before him walked twin mages, cloaked in blue and purple, with halfcapes on opposing shoulders — the one at the left hand of the King's cloak hung over their left, and vice versa for the one at his right. Both were slender humanoids constructed entirely of gemstones of a color that opposed their cloaks — they who donned the blue cloak was constituted of a purplish crystal; they who donned the purple cloak was constituted of a bluish crystal, they were exact parallels of one another. Their heads were shaped as oblique octahedrons that acuminated to very fine points, spindly in proportion, as Medei who took a basic sapien shape yet were full of all unique and alien traits unlike life as it was anywhere else on Earth. They were short — shorter than most humans — and in the wake of the King, they seemed incredibly small. Small yet full of a peculiar sense of sharpness and elegance, granted to them by their form and royal apparel.

Behind him walked a small company of several individuals, each of various positions within the monarchy assigned to the personal entourage of the King.
_ _

There was an exceptionally-tall and thin humanoid-avian Medei who stood with his winged arms tucked close to his side and with his posture so sharply upright that his profile was as a blade of midnight: thin, tall, and straight as a needle. His feathers a deep onyx hue, donning a more modern, human-cultured garb: a vest and a fine cotton shirt, and grayish-black pants that were not quite as dark as his feathers themselves. With two, sharp, front-facing eyes, the bird-of-prey was most like a hawk, with eyes of deep-black with a thin outer ring of whites, the only thing that contrasted the deep inkiness of his form being his bold, yellowish-orange beak. While his gaze was keen, he was, in truth, a most delicate and stately figure, one who walked a polite two steps behind the King at all times.

Then there was, beside the fine avian figure, a Medei clad in a natural armor, a loose copper *Elytra* Descending down the length of her back, herself being roughly the same size as the avian Medei, yet almost twice his width. She donned a pure-white cape that encompassed her all-around, held together with a golden pin, leaving a thin breach through its middle through which one could see her body: burly, insectoid, and plated all over with a natural exoskeletal armor that had a slight copper tint to it. Most like a beetle, she was perhaps, besides the two mages at the front, the Medei least like a human, though still charming in her own unique manner.
_ _

Fifth and finally of them all, there was one of a much more average height — a dozen-or-so centimeters taller than the average human, sure, yet still much shorter than the company that surrounded her — a lupine figure: short, coarse fur covered her all over, a mixture of coal-black and tawny patches wherein lay small accents of bright white and subtle gradients of dark-and-light gray. Much unlike those around her, she donned a set of armor quite similar to that of the *Custos Regni,* Covered in decorated plates of dull-gray metal embellished with accents befitting of a champion, regal flares and tassels upon its pauldrons and elaborate engravings traveling down the length of her breastplate and greaves. She donned no helmet, openly displaying her unblemished muzzle with a sense of youth and fire in her eyes: a more trained gaze from one more familiar with Medei would find that she was significantly younger than the centuries-old company she was amidst. She was likely no more than twenty or thirty in human years, whereas some of her companions were well-over 200.
Anthony
***Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.***
It took no announcement, no signal, not a word nor a motion, for the spectators and participants of the Festival to understand. He was leading the Festival in a new direction with his presence alone — a movement which would kickstart a new act of many in this celebration. In an orderly fashion, along either of the two sides along the central path made for the King by the *Custos Regni,* Many of those amidst the Festival make way to follow the pace of the march of the King. Fires were raised in his honor as Medei performers sounded trumpets, drums, cymbals, and all manner of brass, woodwind, and percussion instruments, in the wake of his procession, arcane lights dazzling the air and yet never passing the great wall of armor that was the Guard in their two lines, dutifully protecting the King and his entourage.

The Festival was already lively enough, but around the march of the King, it grew denser than dense, humans and Medei alike flocking in droves through the wide streets to catch a glimpse of the fabled "King of Medei". He was scarcely seen in the public eye — especially in the public eye of humankind. An appearance at a Festival like this was a rare one, no doubt. Only through the collaborative presence of the *Custos Regni* And the event staff was a consistent order upheld. Hundreds and hundreds of people were guided through the streets in a remarkably coordinated fashion: a truly impressive display of both entities' competence and respect.
_ _

***"ALL PARTICIPANTS OF THE FESTIVAL OF CONVERGENCE, PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR AN ANNOUNCEMENT MADE BY THE KING OF THE MEDEI!"***

The King marched southward. His expression was neutral and firm, unchanging in the presence of the music and the festivities, the bustling crowds and those that and all their howling, cheering, whistling, singing, chanting, kneeling and dancing. He was unmoved by it all and without a word from the moment of his arrival through the entirety of his march — in fact, he still had not said a single word at all. All about the King was spoken for him and never by him.

_ _
To one, he appears as a stoic and silent warrior, needless of words and expressing himself through action alone. He is the hero of two-millennia past, a champion whose victories speak for themselves.
To another, he appears as an ancient king, both humbled and wisened by his many years. He is a leader who both knows importance and humility, who knows when to raise his voice and when to keep it.
To anothermore, he seems a languished and tired soul, who has seen bygone eras come-and-go. He is an ancient thing who has been through this all a hundred times and more, who can feel no more for what all he has already seen and been done with.
To another still and finally, he seems a coward. A king who is established by the strength of those around him; a craven leader who has seen more defeats than he has victories, all bravery gnawed away by two-thousand years of imprisonment and failure.

He is a Medei of many definitions and of many perspectives, yet he has been and continues to be, eternal—
***The King.***

**```
"𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐎,"```**

The King now stood before a southern stage — an arena. He hoisted his scepter over his head, clutching it in his right hand as he closed his eyes, his voice booming in a sudden announcement that quieted all the Festival in a single breath.


An effulgent-red magical energy engulfs the surface of his scepter, as its form changes into that of a three-pronged spear, engulfed entirely in a gleaming, scarlet-red flame that dyed its surroundings in the hue of its light. To the common man, it was no more than an enchanted weapon — an ethereal blade consumed by a powerful, fiery magic. To any Medei, however, it was an item of myth, immediately recognizable. A weapon over two-thousand years old. A historical spear spoken of in myth, fable, and history alike.

__ ***Ardens Caelum.***__
*The scarlet spear that set the dusk horizon of the millennium war ablaze.*
_ _

**```
"𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑."
"𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋"
"𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖, 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒."
"𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐈 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘."```**


The blunt end of the spear strikes against the ground, the echo of its weight reverberating felt by all those who stood within the direct vicinity of the King. A circlet of flame ignited about the contact point of the weapon, its very presence enough to give flame to the air around.

**```
"𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒:"
"𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐅𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄"
"𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐒"
"𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.```**
_ _

_ _
The lupine armored warrior at his side retrieved a blade from the hands of an O.S.A agent, kneeling to present it to her King. He took it up with his free hand and raised it to the sky above, looking up at its enchanted form.

**```
"𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓."
"𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍."
"...𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒, 𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘."```**

His voice quieted as he saw his own eyes in the reflection of the enchanted blade. For once, a morose expression surfaced on his face.

```
"𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒐 𝑨𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔."
"The Edge of Eternity."
"A ritual duel performed so we will never forget the conflict of two hundred years."
"So we will never forget the wounds we sustained. The allies we lost."
"...And the era of coexistence we once shared."```

The King bequeathed the blade back to the warrior who had just presented it to him, resting it in her outstretched, armored arms. As she takes it into her grasp and sheathes it into the empty scabbard at her side, the King himself reaches out his arm to her, as she pulls herself up to her feet. It takes only one finger for the tremendous figure of the King to raise her full weight. The wolven Medei warrior takes a step up the stairs to stand atop the stage of the arena, leaving her stood above and behind the King, its elevation enough to set her apart from him and above the entire crowd.

He stands before all the people of the crowd, in a clearing, surrounded by his entourage. 
Before him, the King saw a sight he once believed he would never see again.
Medei and humans, standing alongside eachother.
If it were him alone; if he had room to feel...
_ _

A forceful, arcane hum emits from the three-pronged spear as he twirls it with a single hand, its bright red flames streaking in the sky before him, before — ***`THOOM`*** — he caught it in the clutch of one hand, perfectly horizontal ahead of himself, its spin stopped in a single momentous clasp.

**```
"𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍."

"Whether human or a Medei, whether warrior or not..."
"Step forward and fight."
"Feel the flame within."
"And with your SOUL lain bare, you will begin to understand."
"How it feels to stand upon the 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲."```**
Kelly
*He's just been sitting on top of a building trying to heal from his burns, he then hears the king speak about this ritual duel, something that could maybe clear his head a bit.*

"Honestly I'm not gonna even lie I was like two seconds away from just killing and eating someone again to heal a bit faster, but y'know what screw it, I have a blade that can shoot out of my arm and I'm not doing anything else, so why not."

*He jumps down from the building he was landing on and lands on his feet, he just wonder's where the hell he needs to go, since he's pretty lost in this place.*
Justin
To Rift, the Medeian King appears to be much of the top three. He pauses his... Interesting transaction, giving ear to to the man as he announces his piece;

`Certainly a display of power.` He notes, judging the interesting way of which this PSA was spoken aloud; many knights and guards upon his side. Truly, this is one well-protected individual. Of course, that is of no concern; having been in the company of royalty before, this seems par for the course, albeit a bit over the top for his more modest and plain taste.

Rift then pauses his deal entirely, leaving the piece of meat with the kebab seller as he fully rotates his body to face the direction of the booming voice of the man who donned the ancient crown and wielded the **Ardens Caelum**, a weapon he had only faintly heard of before. Yet, of course, he would soon be reminded of what *Little* He did know as the butt-end met with the ground, erupting in flame.

At the same time, the sword place upon Rift's hip gently glows a warm red hue, the retired knight placing a hand upon the hilt for but a moment, as if to quell its sudden outburst of the faintest of crimson. Leaving the fish and rabbits upon the kebab guy's stand, he closes his eyes and exhales, eyelids opening with renewed interest at the idea of the festival.

For someone who had enjoyed oh so quiet a retirement, only to be called upon once more many a month ago, this is certainly interesting...

Keeping his hand upon his trusty blade *Vilethorn*'s hilt, and removing his shield — the *Aegis*, as it was named many years ago - its forger quite the believer of interesting tales — from upon his back, The **Weavecutter**, champion of another world, savior to another, steps forward, accepting the challenge raised by the royalty in front of him. His partner is going to kill him when he has to clean all of this up later.