Bishop VII

The subsequent procession of slaves and servants only deepened the contrariety that Celtic's exceptional display had created. Each individual, as they stepped up to the device, found themselves tethered to the reality of their ordinary existence. The screen, devoid of any significant digits, offered a somber reflection of their current standing.

The crowd, now less vocal but still murmuring, witnessed the discrepancy with a mix of curiosity and indifference. The lords and ladies, who had initially dismissed this part of the ceremony as an afterthought, began to exchange subtle glances and quiet conversations. The resounding silence in response to each unremarkable result seemed to echo the societal divisions that had persisted for generations.

As the last servant completed the Selection, Agatha, with a discerning gaze, surveyed the array of faces before her. The reality of the results lay bare – the vast majority possessed no exceptional flow, no heroic potential. Yet, in the midst of this collective ordinariness, Celtic stood as an anomaly, a beacon of hope that transcended the rigid boundaries of social hierarchy.

Agatha, with a measured tone that cut through the quiet tension, declared, "The Selection has come to its conclusion. The Academy welcomes all who have demonstrated their potential, regardless of birthright or standing. May this institution be a place of growth, where the seeds of greatness can find fertile soil in any heart."

The crowd, though still grappling with the unexpected turns of the ceremony, acknowledged Agatha's words with a respectful quietude. The Academy, a crucible of aspirations, had once again witnessed a moment that challenged preconceived notions and hinted at the possibility of a different future.

The air in the Academy's plaza hung in a state of lingering tension as Agatha, the principal, received a magical message that disrupted the conclusion of the Selection Ceremony. A luminous light soared through the air, drawn toward her with an ethereal grace. As Agatha gently touched the radiant message, her countenance shifted, reflecting the sudden change in circumstance.

The knights responsible for overseeing the underage candidates swiftly brought Brayan and Kanan forward, and there, before the king's presence, the two knights knelt in a respectful yet uneasy demeanor. The crowd, hushed by the unexpected turn of events, watched with a collective curiosity that mirrored the uncertainty of the moment.

Agatha, her eyes fixed on the duo before her, inquired with a measured voice, "What is the meaning of this, Sir Brayan, Sir Kanan?"

Brayan, though maintaining a posture of deference, spoke with a sincerity that resonated across the plaza, "My apologies, Principal Agatha. The House of Ivan found itself short of the required number of servants for the Selection, and the child volunteered. Lord Ivan, in his pursuit of meeting the quota, saw it fit to present these underage candidates in place of servants."

A murmur swept through the crowd, a combination of surprise, disapproval, and sympathy. In the corner, Liam, who had been standing guard and performing his duties as one of the king's knights, couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment as his father's name echoed through the plaza.

Agatha, unfazed by the commotion, maintained her composure and directed her gaze toward the king. The monarch, seated with a stoic expression, considered the situation before offering a subtle nod, allowing Agatha to decide the course of action.

The principal, after a moment of contemplation, addressed the kneeling knights, "The Selection Ceremony is not a tool to be exploited for quotas, nor is it a place for children to bear the burdens of their elders. Stand, Sir Brayan, Sir Kanan. The Academy will not accept candidates who do not meet the minimum age requirement."

The knights, relieved by the tempered response, rose from their kneeling positions. The crowd, now privy to the resolution of the unexpected interlude, awaited Agatha's next words, eager to see how the ceremony would conclude after this unanticipated twist.

The unexpected revelation prompted a pause in the proceedings, the atmosphere hanging on the words exchanged between Agatha, Brayan, and Kanan. Yet, in the midst of the stillness, a commanding voice resonated from the king's position, cutting through the tension.

"Lord Ivan, you say?" the king inquired, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sought clarification. Brayan, maintaining a respectful demeanor, responded with a nod. "Yes, my king. Lord Ivan faced challenges in meeting the required number of servants for the Selection, and this child volunteered in their stead."

The king, a figure of authority and decision, took a measured moment to reflect on the situation. The murmurs among the crowd intensified, ripples of anticipation spreading as all eyes turned toward the monarch. After a contemplative pause, the king, with a voice that carried the weight of authority, pronounced his decision.

"Very well," he said, the approval laced with a nuanced acknowledgment. The king's choice indicated a recognition of the unique circumstances faced by House Ivan, and his royal approval resonated through the plaza.

Agatha, having received the monarch's approval, acknowledged the king's decision with a respectful nod. The tension that had gripped the assembly began to ease, replaced by a renewed sense of anticipation for the continuation of the Selection Ceremony.

As the king's proclamation settled, Agatha, her gaze shifting between the monarch and the knights, signaled for the ceremony to resume. The crowd, now stirred by the unexpected turn, watched with heightened interest as the next phase of the Selection unfolded against the backdrop of royal decisions and noble intricacies.

As Agatha's command echoed through the plaza, the attention of the crowd shifted once again, this time to the young boy named Aden. His name spoken, Aden stepped forward to the stage device, his movements deliberate and his expression stoic. Yet, despite his composed demeanor, murmurs of skepticism and derision rippled through the gathering.

"What's the big deal about this one?" scoffed a voice from the crowd, the sentiment echoed by others nearby. "He's just another servant. Probably won't even manage a single digit," chimed in another, the disdain evident in their tone.

Mockery and doubt trailed in Aden's wake as he made his way to the stage, the frustration of the spectators at being held back from their departure now directed squarely at the young boy. Yet, amidst the jeers and sneers, Aden's focus remained unwavering, his gaze fixed on the king with a determination that belied his youth.

The tension in the plaza swelled as Aden reached the stage device, the anticipation palpable in the air. Despite the doubts cast upon him, there was a sense of curiosity mingled with apprehension among the onlookers, each awaiting the outcome of this unexpected addition to the Selection Ceremony.