Upper Level, Arcona Citadel
The Hunter frowned beneath his mask as he walked through the imposing doors leading to the throne room, ebony cloak fluttering at his heels with every step. When Rins’zler had received the summons, he fully expected someone to be there.
‘Perhaps I’m early?’ the Seeker pondered to himself, withdrawing the datapad containing the message from within the folds of the heavy material. Thankfully, the device had been dimmed to a point that it would not hinder his eyes in adjusting to the darkness of the room. The Human’s frown deepened as he saw that there was no specified time beyond ‘as soon as physically possible’.
After a few moments, the feeling that had lingered on the edge of his senses became clear - his eyes were not adjusting because the massive room was unnaturally dark.
As though the mental cue were all that was required, the blackness abruptly receded as though it had been a figment of Rins’zler’s imagination. Momentarily blinded as he was by the sudden return of the lighting, the Sith had mere moments to take in the low wall of silver flames that framed the Serpentine Throne and the petite feminine figure sat within.
The Human was glancing from side to side, taking in the collective Summit - at least one lightsaber hilt grasped within their hands - before his vision was impeded once more. Only, this time, instead of darkness, the hulking figure of Rins’zler’s Master stood before him. The Battlelord was attired in his full Dragon Armor, appearing as though from nowhere, fully prepared to march to war.
Rins’zler opened his mouth to greet his Master, only to be harshly silenced by the scale-like armored calf of Wuntila sweeping his Apprentice’s feet from under him. Refusing to show fear, idly wondering why those cerulean orbs were so focused on him despite the heavy shadows, the Hunter lifted his masked gaze. The Seeker took in the hilt of his Master’s lightsaber, Dragonsbreath, tightly grasped within a gauntlet.
It took the Hunter a moment to realize that it was not hatred within Wuntila’s steely gaze, but a hint of pride. Realizing what was happening, Rins’zler adjusted his stance to where he was in a kneel, head bowed.
He took a deep breath as he heard the tell-tale snap and hiss of just shy of a dozen lightsabers ignited as one.
“Rins’zler, you have proven yourself to be a keen student and loyal servant to the Brotherhood - your dedication to Clan Arcona has been unfaltering,” the Dragon moved the lightsaber blade from left shoulder to right and back again. “Your training has come to an end, though your journey has only just begun. Rise, Rins’zler, a Knight of Arcona.”