A squeaky carriage trundles up a hillside as a black Vartan rides up towards the fortress. It stops at the entrance and the passenger exits, carrying a large bundle on his back. He hands some coins to the carriage driver and then heads in.

The great bone gates open up for the black Vartan, allowing him access to the walkway that passes the Sanctuaries beyond, leading to the central Sanctuary at the base of the mountain. It has always looked much like a skull … but after Zoltan's visit to Abaddon, it can't be helped that it bears some resemblance to some of the features of the fortresses he saw there.

Zoltan smiles to himself and hefts the pack a bit. After finding that the Knights had members on Abaddon, Golgotha has taken on just a little bit more magic for him. His smile fades as he considers his reasons for coming here and he quickens his pace.

Several squires and men-at-arms head this way and that, and a few Lancers and monks as well. At last, the Vartan reaches the archway formed by the mouth of the "skull". Beyond it can be seen the grand central chamber, with a glowing pool in the center of the floor. Ladders, stairs and walkways writhe up the sides of the chamber, and the walls are studded in seemingly random fashion with stained glass windows bearing the emblems of each of the Lances.

The Vartan eyes each of the windows, looking for the one that belongs to the Champion of Roses.

There, some distance up, can be seen a circular window dominated by a large rose in the center, with smaller roses (and thorns, vine and leaves) filling the rest of the frame. The window is back-lit, though not by sunlight, given that there's a mountain behind that wall.

Nodding to himself, Zoltan heads towards the window, hoping that the Champion or one of her Lancers can be found nearby.

A short rodentish monk – a Skeek, evidenced as he comes closer – walks up to the Vartan. "Greetings, friend pilgrim. Can I perhaps assist you?"

Zoltan carefully bends down so he can look more eye-level with the Skreek. "Yes. I need to speak with the Champions. It's a matter of utmost importance."

"All of them?" The Skeek blinks, then says, "Ah … I'll see if … Wait right here!" He skitters off, heading out the entrance archway.

The Vartan swallows and moves to sit on an available step near the central pool. He sets his pack down and gives it a pat. "You're home, Shadows," he whispers quietly to it.

Armored warriors file into the great hall. One of them is armored in gray-black armor … the Champion of Ashes. Another is a feline in white armor, decorated with a magenta cape and ornamental roses – the Champion of Roses. Another wears brilliant armor that seems to flicker and flame in the reflected light from the pool – the Champion of Flame. And, the sight of the Champion of Diamonds is almost too dazzling to look at for Vartan eyes.

A sharp inhale is all Zoltan can manage. He reverently sets his bundle down at his feet and rises up to face the Champions.

"WHAT IS IT?" bellows a tall knight from behind the other Champions. He obviously is not beholden to a vow of silence.

"I don't know if you been told or not, but I have just recently returned from Abaddon. My search led me to find my father… but I also found a sect of Knights who knew you and told me a story of a Champion who locked himself up in his sanctuary to guard a weapon so that many of the Knights could come here to Sinai. I do not know if the Progenitor was your enemy at that time, or if you even know what I'm talking about now… " Zoltan carefully picks up the bundle.

The Champion of Sound is actually quiet for a moment. It will pass.

"When I was in Abaddon I came across a black suit of armor and a weapon. I was taken to a city with people led by a being known as the Progenitor. I was a guest in his palace and was treated to a feast… and during that feast the Progenitor brought out some prisoners, one of whom was a lancer named Malachite who served under the Champion of Emeralds. I was carrying the weapon of the armored knight and used it against the Progenitor to rescue him. With the help of a Korv with a swift cutlass we managed to destroy it and rescue the Lancer. Later I used the armor to convince my father to stop attacking the Winged Citadel, which was where the knights were. I was afraid that if he knew it was me he might lie to me… so I went in the guise of the armor when I faced him. Then in that armor I fought against a thing called a Titan and eventually managed to convince all the factions there to stop." The Vartan reaches into the bundle and pulls out an ebony black helmet.

Several scraping noises can be heard off to one side. The Skeek monk is dutifully – and rapidly – scribbling words onto a piece of parchment at a very fast rate.

The Champion of Diamonds steps forward. The brilliant helm of the knight turns slightly sideways, to allow a better view of the dark helmet.

In the eerie, pulsating light of the chamber, shadows seem to flow like liquid across the surface of the helmet with every tiny jostle in the way Zoltan holds it.

"Later I was told that the knight was known as the Champion of Shadows, and had sacrificed his life so that his lancers and many of the other knights could escape. They repaired the armor although they could find no ammunition for the weapon. I was asked to bring the armor of the Champion of Shadows here, so that Shadows may finally rejoin his brethren on Sinai." Zoltan holds out the helmet. "The knights have done so much for me and my family, I felt it was my duty to do as much. And… " He swallows.

Scribblescribblescribble … pause …

"I would like to request that I be considered to fill the Champion's place. I am neither a Rephidim guard, nor a monk, a squire, or anything… but I am willing to submit to the authority of the Temple and Golgotha, and work for as long as it will take." Zoltan sets the bundle and the helmet down again. "If you will allow me."

*clack* The mouse blinks, then stoops down to pick up his pen again.

Zoltan folds his hands behind his back, his speech done for now. He'd practiced it so many times in his head ever since he'd been given the armor, although his words didn't come out as convincing of a request as he'd hoped. He sighs softly, feeling a lump in his stomach.

A monk walks up to Zoltan, his face partially obscured by a hood, though the light from the pool lights up his face – from below – enough to show that he is a human, and one with a sizeable and gray beard. "Your bravery and prowess is well-known," says the monk, as he walks into a position in front of the Vartan, "and you have shown yourself to be a friend of the Order of the Bounded Cross time and again. However, it is no easy thing – and I do not say this lightly – to take on the mask. Zoltan Cambio, Baron of Paradys, and owner of many other titles yet, will cease to exist – presuming you even make it to the stage of becoming a Lancer, after the trials that will be placed upon you."

"I know." The Vartan glances up at the Champion of Roses, remembering how distant she was to her own father and sisters. "I do not do my deed for titles. I want to protect the people I care about and I have always followed the callings of my heart. I have considered all of this… I don't seek glory or power. I simply wish to serve the Temple and the Knights as they have served me so many times in the past."

"What if war breaks out between the Temple and the City of Hands?" asks the monk.

Zoltan swallows hard. "I will defend my country. It is a circumstance I hope will never happen, but I trust the Temple to not raise a war unless there was good reason. And if that reason arises I will defend it."

The monk nods his head. "Well said. And what if the Nagai were to strike against the City of Hands, and your superiors would not give you permission to interfere, determining that your skills were required elsewhere?"

"I trust that I will be sent to where my skills serve me and my country the best. I am just one man… and would not be a very good one if I went to rescue the Queen and the City only to let Rephidim fall because I felt I knew better," Zoltan says. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest almost as hard as it was when he first faced his father in the Pit of Himar.

The monk nods again, then says, "Again, well said. The Knighthood can be very trying on its members. Those who are attracted to our Order often come here because they wish to be heroes … but we are not a band of vigilantes. Order can only be maintained if we have an ultimate authority to answer to. Otherwise, we will only pursue what we each think is right … and spend as often being at odds with each other."

The Vartan nods. "I know that I must sacrifice more than my name and my titles for the Knights if I wish to be one of them."

The monk says, "If you are committed to this, then the first step would be to find a sponsor – someone to advocate you as a candidate for inclusion into our order."

"Who must that be? A Knight? A member of the Temple?" Zoltan asks.

The Champion of Roses makes a salute, then raises her sword hand.

The Champion of Sound does likewise.

Zoltan smiles at the two Champions, dips his head in thanks and then looks back to the monk.

The Champion of Ashes repeats the gesture. This is followed by the Champion of Flame. And the Champion of Diamonds. Other knights follow in like fashion.

The black Vartan's breath catches in his throat. ( All… all of them? Me? ) Any words he might say get caught in his throat, any thought in his head vanishes. The gesture moves him deeper than he could possibly ever form into words or thoughts.

The monk says, "The Champion of Amber sponsors in absentia. This satisfies the requirement, I dare say."

Zoltan numbly nods his head, grinning from ear to ear.

The monk says, "I cannot yet welcome you to our Order … but you have taken your first step there. May the Star shine brightly upon you, and light your way always."

The words finally sink in and the Vartan slowly returns to reality. "Thank you. I thank you." He looks at the Champions. "And may the Star shine upon all of you. I hope I can prove myself worthy of your support of me."

"Go now in peace to your family," says the monk. "Let us begin your training with the light of a new day."

Zoltan bows to the monk and then to the others in the room. He walks out of Golgotha in a daze and decides to fly home now that he's not burdened by the armor anymore. Oddly, it doesn't seem like he has to try all that hard to fly – he thinks that if his heart was any higher right now he could just float home without a wing-beat.