The Oath
Five years later!
Under the scorching summer sun, the harsh rays beat down on the noble Prince Arthas Menethil. He rode through the streets of Lordaeron, greeted by the cheers of the people. Today should have been a day filled with anticipation for his future, but instead, he was filled with anxiety. The sun beat down on his heavy armor, almost baking him. Although Nathanos had warned him days earlier that the weather would be unkind, he had confidently assured himself it would be alright, but now he wanted to slap himself. He sat astride his warhorse, and when he saw it, a pang of sadness struck him. It reminded Arthas of his former steed— Invincible. Invincible had met with an accident during one of his rides. The young and strong steed, as robust as Arthas himself, had broken its left foreleg in the snow—a fatal wound for a warhorse. Ultimately, the Prince had ended Invincible's life with his own hands, a tragedy he could never forgive.
Unbeknownst to him, the solemn scene before him pulled him back to reality. Outside the cathedral, where the ceremony was to be held, Arthas found his consciousness suddenly gone blank; he had no idea what to do.
King Terenas rode alongside Arthas on horseback.
He seemed completely oblivious to his son's nervousness. "This day has finally come, my son." Terenas turned and smiled at Arthas.
Despite the sweltering heat and the weight of his armor, Arthas managed to force a genuine smile at his father. "Indeed, Father," he said, at least maintaining a calm tone in his voice.
This was the largest celebration in Lordaeron's history, attended by numerous Kings, nobles, and prominent figures besides Terenas. They awaited the arrival of Arthas and his father, who had to receive the people's blessings along the city's white cobblestone streets. Their destination was the Cathedral of Light, built after the Second War. At Terenas's request, the craftsmen had constructed it as the most magnificent and splendid cathedral on the entire continent.
Why so late? He only became a Paladin after he had come of age, while those around him— Uther, Muradin, his father, even his friend Nathanos —had all experienced things he had never. What alarmed him most was King Varian of Stormwind City. His childhood playmate had long since become a King, and not long ago, he had even become a father.
I'm always slower than others!
"Don't overthink it, Arthas." Terenas smiled at him, as if she could read his mind. "Today belongs to you."
Yes, the moment Arthas had been dreaming of had arrived, but he still doubted whether he was worthy of the honor that was about to be bestowed upon him.
In private, Arthas had confided this feeling to Nathanos. The answer he received, however, surprised him.
'In this matter, or perhaps in any matter, who can be truly prepared? People know Turalyon as a powerful Paladin, but when he first became Paladin, he couldn't use the Holy Light because he doubted himself. It wasn't until Lothar's sacrifice that he truly understood what the Holy Light was. Turalyon is hailed as a hero, but even heroes have flaws. No one can be perfect from the start. You just need to remember that this is a responsibility, not an honor. The key is, what is your responsibility? Who are you? So, you will stand there, like Uther and Turalyon before you, and every Paladin has stood there, experiencing the same confusion and doubts as you.'
This brought Arthas a sense of comfort. He straightened his shoulders, lifted his visor, and waved to the crowd lining the street with a smile. Even under the blazing sun, people still gathered around the procession, cheering them on, and rose petals rained down on Arthas. Suddenly, the sound of horns rang out; they had arrived at the cathedral. Arthas dismounted, and a groom led his horse away.
Seeing the magnificent cathedral before him, Arthas felt a profound sense of peace and tranquility, yet a sense of awe also welled up within him. He slowly ascended the carpeted, carved stone steps and entered the building, feeling fortunate to finally escape the scorching sun and enter the cool shade.
The church wasn't filled with a dazzling crowd; instead, rows of distinguished guests lined both sides. Arthas recognized several faces, which made him somewhat nervous: King Genn Greymane of Gilneas, Sorath Thoradin, ruler of Stromgarde, and Admiral Daelin Proudmoore. The Prince understood why they were there, but none of them were the people Arthas wanted to see. Aside from Uther and Terenas, Arthas dared not speculate on the thoughts of these dignitaries—were they questioning his abilities? He had hoped Nathanos would be there, but to his disappointment, Nathanos had gone to Southshore. He could only turn his attention back to the altar before him, hoping to lessen his anxiety and unease somewhat.
Archbishop Alonsus Faol awaited him at the altar. The archbishop was very old. His long, snow-white beard and bright eyes accentuated his wisdom. Even in such a solemn ceremony, Alonsus radiated warmth and benevolence. Arthas approached him and knelt on one knee in reverence. The archbishop opened a large book and began to read.
"In the name of the Holy Light, we gather here to witness this glorious moment. In the merciful the Holy Light, a chosen one will be reborn. The Holy Light grants him authority, enabling him to teach the world. The Holy Light grants him strength, enabling him to fight against the shadows. The Holy Light grants him wisdom, enabling him to guide his people to obtain the eternal blessings of Heaven."
Next, Alonsus asked the other Paladin to bless Arthas. This group shared Arthas's general idea; they all stood ramrod straight, clad in heavy silver armor. The only oddity was that his father seemed to have mentioned before that the Paladin who would bless him were four of the original Paladin. Uther was certainly among them, but the others... Arthas didn't recognize a single one. Tirion Fordring, Saidan Dathrohan, Gavinrad Doom—those three weren't there.
Uther, leader of the Order of the Silver Hand, stepped forward, holding an unusually large and heavy warhammer. The silver head was engraved with runes, and the sturdy handle was wrapped in blue leather. He placed the warhammer before Arthas, then retreated back into his ranks. Next to him was a Paladin of similar age to Uther, who held a ceremonial shoulder armor in his hands and placed it on Arthas's broad shoulders.
The archbishop gave the Prince a kind smile. Arthas looked into his eyes, his worries gone. Now, he fully remembered what he had to do.
"Rise and take the oath," Alonsus commanded.
He did as he was told!
"Arthas Menethil, are you willing to swear an oath to uphold the honor and principles of the Order of the Silver Hand?"
The archbishop addressed him by his first name without mentioning his Prince status. Arthas suddenly recalled Nathanos's words, 'You only need to know that this is a responsibility, not an honor. The point is, what is your responsibility? Who are you?' 'I am here as a man, not a Prince,' Arthas reminded himself.
"I swear."
"Are you willing to swear that you will always uphold the mercy of the Holy Light and share its wisdom with your fellow countrymen and your people?"
"I swear."
"Are you willing to swear an oath to do everything in your power to eradicate evil? To fight against it without hesitation, no matter when or where, and to protect the innocent from harm with your life?"
"I swear by my blood and honor!"