When William steps to the microphone, I can’t help but grin at my friend. His tux is a deep green with near-black aubergine lapels, and tailored to perfection. “I, William Jeffrey Sitterson, Scion of Sir Gawain, twelfth-ranked, select Page Whitlock as my Squire.” He raises a long green ribbon with a single silver coin before him, and I know without seeing it that it bears the sigil of Gawain. A token for his Squire to wear. “With his agreement, we will be bonded. For this war and beyond.”

A cheer rises up at the Page table before Lord Davis calls the room to order. “Page Whitlock, do you accept?”

Even from behind, I can see Whitty tugging nervously at his tie. It takes him three attempts to get the words out. “I do. I accept Scion Sitterson’s offer.”

The older crowd—the Vassals and Legendborn parents and Lieges—applauds while wild cheers rise up from the Legendborn table, and from the Pages’ tables too. I join their crows and whoops, delighted for my friend, while Whitty walks forward and accepts William’s colors and sigil. He gives an awkward wave to the room and sits down as fast as possible.

Lord Davis calls the room to order, then beckons Pete forward. Pete looks scared out of his mind, but duty sends him to the mic. “I, Peter Herbert Hood, Scion of Sir Owain, seventh-ranked, select Page Taylor as my Squire. With their agreement, we will be bonded. For this war and beyond.”

A hushed murmur travels through the room. Lord Davis leans down beside Pete. “Page Taylor? Do you accept?”

Behind Greer, the crowd shifts. I track the wary eyes, the hesitation, and the curiosity of some of the parents and Lieges in the room. And some outright sneers. People who don’t want to be inconvenienced. Don’t want to adapt. People who don’t want to get better or learn more, just like Greer said.

I smile for my friend. Time to break their rhythm.

Greer’s shoulders draw back, and when they speak, their voice is strong and clear. “I do. I accept Scion Hood’s offer.”

More applause this time, but it’s so raucous I’m not sure if it’s for Pete and Greer, or for the announcement that’s coming next.

“The moment we’ve been waiting for has arrived.” Lord Davis uses both hands to quiet the room. “My son, Nicholas Davis, Scion of Arthur, will announce his Squire.”

Nick steps forward beside his father, flinching almost imperceptibly when Davis claps him on the back. I knew this moment was coming, but I wasn’t prepared for Nick’s face, so solemn and so serious as he surveys the room. When he approaches, the room falls silent, as if the whole of the Order even outside these walls is holding their breath, waiting for their future king to announce his first decision on the path toward the throne.