Octavius was all grins and bright eyes, gaze dancing over all the polished soldiers with pride, then moving to the cheering and waving people with thankfulness. It didn’t matter whether one enjoyed a parade or not, there was no denying that this felt good. Their shed sweat and blood. Their sleepless nights. All the mental dedication and kingdom devotion. It was all for them after all, wasn’t it? Or, they benefitted from it. And now here they stood, praising the soldiers that fought for their privilege. Octavius was pleased.

“I think I’m gonna find me a wife.” He bounced his brows and returned @katerina’s wink, daring her to protest his outlandish statement.

Cassian sat on a throne on a platform at the end of the parade. There was no second throne beside him, no place for the queen. Has she been Nevermerean blood she would have undoubtedly been in attendance, but the king had decided not to steal an ounce of Nevermerean pride by showing his Lorendaler wife. Not tonight. Besides, Othello’s debut as a Lorendaler would already likely ruffle some feathers. In an effort to keep his wife from feeling hurt, Cassian had not mentioned the parade at all. The boys were with her in Lorendale, and they would all be in attendance at the ball.

The monarch’s dark gaze rest steadily on the army approaching. His army. The powerful entity that had been groomed to be the best in all the land—to take all the land, to protect all the land. They were not just soldiers. They were heroes.

If he had been one to show his emotion then his chest would swell with pride and a beaming smile would radiate from his face. As it was, he looked on, a picture of discipline in every way, not a hair out of place.

Promotions! Grant was honored. He was getting recognition for his own actions, not just being a Delaney--though until he was unable to serve in the military he'd keep trying to make more of a mark for Nevermere.

That also meant that there wasn't any rolling about in the muck to be doing, however fun the tournament sounded. Or whatever it actually was, it sounded interesting.

It was easy enough to get practice in getting primmed and shined up in full military dress regalia. Back straight, shoulders squared, lockstep with the rest of the military.

Zevran and Rune hovered in the back of the gathered crowd, watching the lines of soldiers march by. He was leaned up against a building, foot propped up against the wall and arms crossed across his chest. His gaze bounced from soldier to soldier, searching for the few familiar faces that would be among them.

Everyone seemed so joyous, so happy and excited. This was just a celebration for most of them, a time to show pride in their kingdom and the beast that was Nevermere's military. But Zevran wondered how many of the people gathered here knew what was on the horizon.

His gaze darkened at the thought, a bit of sadness falling over him as he thought of all of these soldiers marching on Dresmond. Of the citizens who would remain here and wait for their loved ones to return, and of how many would be forever waiting. Rune whined quietly at his feet, echoing his thoughts.

But it was not his fault that it had come to this. No, the only place to lay blame was at the red-headed monsters' feet. Zevran squeezed his arms around himself a bit tighter, turning his attention back to the parade as he tried to shake the dark thoughts and embrace the celebration as everyone else was.

Elodie’s smile was explosive. While the other soldiers kept their chins facing forward, the picture of controlled dignity, Elodie couldn’t help but steal glances at the onlookers cheering from the walkway. She’d worn many a fine gown. Trod many a glistening ballroom with jewels dangling from her ears and a dazzling pin in her hair. But Elodie had never in her life felt as eye-catching as she did now in her Nevermerean blues.

She thought of her brother. Of how proud he’d be to see her now in all her finery. It was almost enough to bring a tear to her eye.

Elodie marched on, her heart fluttering as she let the roar of the crowd lift her.

Alys walked in unison beside Regan. Both women dressed well in their uniform and looking rather shined up. Though there were parts of Alys’ armor that showed the well worn spots. Strong, repaired, but used well. Her battle axe strapped to her back, the two smaller throwing ones at her hips. Her curls usually left in a quick tie up on her head when training were plaited back in two braids. The eruptions of cheers around them was… new. But so was this whole event.

She glanced ahead, watching the castle come into view and the faintest smile curling the corner of her mouth. Her home. All of these people… every cobblestone they marched over… every house the wind whipped around… every drop of ale in the taverns… this was her home and the reason she pushed herself day in and out to be stronger and better. Her eyes cut to Regan, perhaps a small bit of recognition of their similar beasts, before they move further into their spots. Eyes shining the moment she view not only Hadrian and Cassian, but the others there. Her children peeking out from their spot where they stood with some other Delaney’s.

Once they arrived to the finish, the mass of the military would come to a halt in unison behind Regan Lassiter and Alys. The marching falling silent but after a small pause, the two powerful women would walk forward to take their spot on either side of Cassian Rainecourt. A small smile, faint as it was, was given to Hadrian as she passed, then something with a bit more sparkle to her eyes was given to Cassian. Pride and the love of their kingdom pulsing through her as she turned and took her spot beside him.

As they entered the training yard, Regan squeezed Othello Allemeade’s arm. “Remember,” she whispered before departing. Remember. Remember everything—everything she’d tried to instill in him since being dragged to Nevermere. Remember not only the man he used to be but the man he’d become: one with a purpose, with dignity, with a home to call his own. Regan felt strangely emotional as she parted from him, but part from him she did.

Regan would walk with long strides. Maybe she’d given it thought. Maybe she hadn’t. But either way, Regan’s quickened came to a stop on Cassian’s right.

Hadrian had been waiting for his troops to arrive. Dressed in all of his finery, he watched the army enter the yard in all their magnificent splendor. There wasn’t enough room for every parading soldier to stand within. The higher-ranked soldiers near the from were who would have the closest view. The other would see up the straightaway leading to the castle. It was a sight to behold. Anyone with doubts about whether they could take the Eldouir would be silenced by the display of power.

Shoulders back, Hadrian stole a glance at Kennet Caern , his lip twitching for a moment in a half smile before he stepped down closer to his troops. He’d turn his body so he was partially facing Cassian Rainecourt , but still open to the gathered crowds.

“We live in a time of great prosperity,” Hadrian started, his booming voice carrying easily across those assembled, “Within your reign, sire, Nevermere has grown from an isolated kingdom into a great empire. People of Nevermere have every reason to celebrate; both to be proud of how far we’ve come and know that there is promise in the road ahead.”

“To rise to this challenge, I sent out a call for new recruits to meet this moment in history. And the people of Nevermere have answered the call. Your majesty, I present to you the forces of Nevermere; as great an army as Terra Nova has ever known.” Cheers rang up from the ground, the atmosphere one of electric excitement. Hadrian smiled, eyes sparkling as he looked out over the assembled before he turned his attention to Othello Allemeade .

“But there is one among us who, until recently, did not call this land home. A gifted of Lorendale has joined our ranks, prepared to fight for his kingdom in the days ahead. Othello Allemeade ,” Hadrian extended a hand to the open space before them, “Please…” It was an invitation to step forward for a brief demonstration of skill—one that Othello knew would be expected of him.

Regan had pre-set all the necessary equipment. All of Othello’s tools were either on his person or at his disposal. His trainer, Regan Lassiter , looked on with hopeful eyes, holding her breath.

Cassian had his opinion about the state of gifteds in Lorendale. He had his opinion about the Eldouir, and about the Allemeade, too. He also clearly had a goal, a vision; possibly a dream. With dark gaze fixed on the gifted he had snatched from Coheed for the good of Nevermere, Cassian watched the display, eager to see what Regan had been working on with him. In the end, he came away with a single word on his mind: practical. And he was satisfied.

The king raised his hands in front of him and slowly, slowly, brought them together in a clap. It was the cue. At once the crowd erupted into praise for what the gifted man had done.

Regan held her breath through the entire exercise. She kept waiting for something to happen: for there to be some slip, for Othello to let his enthusiasm get the better of him and lose his military precision. But he didn’t. His training and commitment carried him though, and by the time Othello turned to stand at attention before the king Regan’s eyes were shining with unsurpassed pride.

Her gaze snapped to the king. Waiting for approval. It was only when the king started to clap that Regan released her breath. Her gaze returned to Othello, to whom she offered a slight smile. He’d done it. They’d done it.

Regan hoped that, at that moment, Othello Allemeade felt what the Huntsman already knew to be true: he wasn’t a Coheedsman anymore. He had a new home, here in Nevermere.