The grandmaster slumped to the ground where he lay on his back in a daze as he gazed up at the darkening sky. The first stars appeared as he blinked blood out of his vision. The man lay for a minute or two as he regained his senses, during which time no one moved and some barely dared to breathe. When the grandmaster finally managed to sit up, he saw the Raven standing several paces from where he lay. The Sheyalins were sheathed at his back, and the young man held the sword of the grandmaster in a loose grip at his side as though it were just another practice blade. He supposed some might even see the magnificent master blade as such when compared to a Sheyalin.

“You have not finished the challenge,” the grandmaster said as he spit a bit of bile.

The Raven clenched the gold and red hilt and then loosened his grip. “I have bested you thrice, now, Grandmaster. Once in stealth, an invasion of the Hall to retrieve a symbol of your office from beneath your sleeping head; once in battle against your army sent to defeat me on the gauntlet; and, once in rightful challenge held in the court of the Hall before your guild and witnessed by the Adana’Ro. Do you deny it?”

The grandmaster wiped blood from his eye and said, “I do not.”

“Then, as acknowledged and unchallenged grandmaster of the Hall, swear to me the fealty of the Riel’sheng,” the Raven commanded, and then he tossed the magnificent blade to the grandmaster as though the sword and all it represented were truly beneath him.

The grandmaster caught the weapon before it clattered to the ground. He gazed at it with reverence before he drew himself to his knees. As the grandmaster knelt, so, too, did the other assassins. He held the heavy sword before him, the hilt in both hands above his head, the tip pointed at the ground but not touching.

“As grandmaster of the Riel’sheng, I recognize thee, Raven, as the superior strength, the superior skill, and the superior honor. I plead to thee for mercy upon this Hall, such that we, the Riel’sheng, may serve thee in life and death.” The grandmaster’s next words were chorused by all of the assassins who were present. “We grant unto thee our fealty. To thee we offer our vessels, our minds, our souls to use as you please. Thine will is our will.”

When the oath was spoken, Rezkin restrained a shiver. He did not care for anyone to offer him his or her soul, but such was the oath of the Riel’sheng. It was an oath they had all sworn upon indoctrination to the Hall. Now, they swore it to him. He had to accept the oath they offered, or all was for naught.