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297 AC
Dreadfort
"There will still be life for you all, in service and in duty," Domeric said, his voice echoing softly through the stone chamber. "But everything else must be set aside. Your faith shall lie in no god or gods, no house, no man, no king but me. I am your salvation…. just as you shall become my shield." Domeric chanted as if he was speaking a verse from the seven star bible itself.
He paced slowly between the kneeling men.
"And here, now, we shall see whether you are prepared to sacrifice everything, if you are worthy to serve here at my side until the end of my days", He continued.
Twenty-one men knelt in reverent silence and bare chested before him.
This ceremony, here this dark meeting was the final phase of initiation into his newly created Praetorian Guard.
A unit that shall be his personal retinue of close and loyal body guards and Assassins if need be.
His close ally and loyal servant Varro stood apart from the others eyeing the proceedings in silence, Varro had already been named the commander of the unit long before it even was officially formed.
He was not just a veteran mercenary by trade anymore over the years he had become the most loyal and faithful almost to the point of worshipping Domeric, it was he who offered the idea of doing away with his house hold guards for protection and rely on more personal , fanatical and better trained guards.
It was this same Qohorik who had designed the physical and psychological regimen that reduced hundreds of candidates to this final number. Foot soldiers, cavalry, light and heavy alike, and even archers had been drawn into the process. Those of the best of the best were recommended.
A many had failed.
And scores of them were eliminated, either in the pits, on the muddy roads which they were forced to trek, or in the crucible where they were forced to fight each other , until only twenty one remained. Even now, the herd would be thinned once more.
The initiation itself was a final culling.
And at the center of the chamber stood a stone altar. Upon it rested a single goblet of wine. This would be their final judge .
Mixed into the wine were several drops of Domeric's blood.
The enchantment woven into the cup my the liege lord himself was simple, yet unforgiving.
Those who drank and faltered, those whose loyalty wavered, whose doubts lingered would collapse where they knelt.
When they woke, their memories of the ceremony would be gone, erased cleanly. And when that was said and done, they would be informed only that they had failed and would be returned to their former units.
This was not punishment merely a transition, they had merely failed in a role they were unfit for and so by lord Domeric's mercy they would continue to live and serve.
In fact, most would be promoted to sergeant, if not a lieutenant as a reward for their physical and mental excellence in reaching this stage.
The worthy, however, would remain standing.
For them, the magic offered both gift and cost.
Their strength, speed, and senses would be doubled beyond their former limits. And In exchange for this supernatural power five years would be stripped from their natural lifespan unbeknownst to them.
They would also bear witness to Domeric's true nature, not merely as lord, but as sorcerer.
And this secret they would take to their graves for they were no longer themselves they were now apart of him. Tethered by chains of magic.
Upon their chests, above the heart, a cursed seal would appear, three solid lines crossed by two broken ones, this black tattoo was proof of their magical tether.
Should any bearer speak of Domeric's sorcery, his designs, the nature of this guard or incriminate him in anyway, then the seal would activate. Paralysis would follow. Speech would fail and the heart would stop.
Silence, enforced unto death.
And so one by one, the men took the cup and drank.
And when the ceremony ended, only ten had been left upright.
The others lay unconscious on the cold stone floor, already forgotten by the magic that had judged them unworthy.
These ten would become the first of the new Praetorian Guard, the first to ever call themselves the honored and highest.
Their numbers would never exceed fifty, enough to guard Domeric's person at all times, and, when required, to serve as his unseen knives.
The ritual was complete.
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