A Truth Sought Ardently: The story of an Ardent Lightweaver

[Atlas333]

Had a fun concept for a lightweaver character and wanted to write out the start of their journey. 

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It was odd that even when the world was ending Luet was still terrified of public speaking.

Just days ago a storm had blown across the country in the wrong storming direction. It had desolated villages much like his own. Not only that but their parshmen had attacked them which was somehow more surprising. They’d tried to stay there but after the storm had passed for a second time they were forced to acknowledge the inevitable: they had to leave. Now those that had survived were traveling to somewhere safer, or at least that was the hope.

Now, done traveling for the night, Brightlord Juvol, being the devout alethi he was, had rounded up their beleaguered members - evident by the dust like exhaustion spren gathering around them - to hear a sermon. 

Luet had been asked because apparently he was "good at thinking on his feet." Of course, the brighlord didn't know about the nights spent preparing sermons should he be asked (although no amount of prepping had could have been enough for the new storm). But how could he refuse? So, ignoring his own fatigue, Luet had accepted.

Now gathered around the central fire, he stood on a cart delivering his speech  trying not to imagine how embarrassing it would be if he fell off his improvised stage.

The bright side of their predicament meant he didn’t have to worry as much about how he looked. While an ardent’s appearance was fairly mundane, a robe and shaved head, it looked even worse after a few days of traveling. He hoped that the dirt and slight tear at the bottom of his robe where it had snagged earlier would make him look more relatable and not like a beggar.

For now, the speech was easy. He had defaulted to one he knew well enough he barely had to glance at his notes, something he didn’t want to do for multiple reasons.

He shared the story of the final desolation. He knew it would be abrasive given what they had just gone through but he wanted to remind them of how previous desolations had gone and how the Almighty had saved them in the past.

"And so with their work done the heralds ascended and returned to the Tranquil Halls to fight the battle we could not. Humanity remains indebted to them for their sacrifice."

He clasped his hands behind his back both to signal the end of his speech but also to hide his slightly shaking hands. He was just glad he didn’t summon any anxiety spren.

Initially, he was given only blank stares. That was the strange thing about sermons: people never clapped like they would a performance. Instead, both a good sermon and a bad sermon received the same reaction, solemn silence.

Finally one man got the courage to say what was on everyone's mind. "But if that was the last desolation then how do you explain the wrong storm?"

Others murmured their agreement. Luet prepared his first - and only - response. "This," he said, "is not a desolation."

This provoked a new wave of murmurs and Luet had to amend his previous thought. It wasn't true that no sermon received immediate feedback; rather, people felt it inappropriate to display their gratitude in a religious setting but not their displeasure.

He had expected this negative reaction; however, through the shouts and chatter it was the humming coming from his notes that bothered him the most.

On his page was an invocation that didn’t belong: a spren of some kind. Barely wider than a thumb, he had drawn the glyphward idly after seeing one he didn’t know. Shortly after it had begun moving as if it were alive and wouldn’t stop following him.

It had an especially annoying habit of slowly drifting over his notes. It would encounter a glyph, and distort it with its spiraling pattern before morphing back to its initial shape once it had passed.

While he did his best to ignore it, it was a task easier said than done. The thing had been pestering him for weeks before the new storm hit. It usually only appeared when he taught and would hum practically every other sentence.

Here amidst the discomfort and confusion of the crowd the invocation seemed pleased like it was enjoying his torment. Surely, it was of the void.

“But what of the red lightning?” A woman cried out to which the others quickly agreed.

“What we’ve gone through was horrific, but we must not jump to conclusions.” He paused before playing his final card. “If this was a true desolation the heralds would be here. Would they not?”

This made the group pause. Luet hoped they didn’t consider the alternative, that the heralds’ lack of appearance meant something far worse. Something an ardent wouldn’t dare think - although he had.

Again, the invocation buzzed.

With his declaration and argument to reflect on, the crowd began to disperse. After all, many were concerned with more immediate problems: getting sleep, caring for their loved ones. The fate of the world could be tomorrow’s problem.

Afterwards, Luet chatted with a few stragglers who had follow up questions. He tried to soothe them the best he could but inwardly he felt hollow. They seeked answers when he could only provide confident guesses. For now he hoped that his substitutions would provide enough hope to press forward and bear another day.

Finally, he was pulled away to a meeting with the brightlord where again he would be asked questions he couldn’t possibly know the answers to.

“The sermon seems to have worked,” brightness Juvol said. She was a small woman that would be easy to miss if her insight wasn’t so invaluable. “I would gauge that group morale has improved by seventeen percent.” Her math done she relinquished control of the meeting back to her husband.

Luet never knew what to make of the women and her calculations. Was she merely making up the numbers or providing estimations? Or had she actually devised a way to mathematically calculate feelings? He didn’t doubt her intellect but the confidence seemed suspicious.

 

“Excellent job, Luet,” Brightlord Juval said. While getting up there in years brightlord Juval had recently been styling his hair to cover his baldness. It wasn’t working. “I suspect I might need more of your sermons as we continue our travels.”

“Gladly, brightlord.” Luet said but inwardly he smarted. Juvol owned two other ardents, one his senior, why was he expected to carry this burden?

The brightlord moved on to receive various reports concerning the distance they’d traveled, the food they still had and various reports from scouts. Unspoken was the question they asked every night: was going to Kholinar their best choice?

The Brightlord was unlike other light eyes Luet had met: while others wielded power like a boy given a training sword, swinging with abandon, and overinflating their strength, Juvol would gladly hear the input of his many advisors, although he valued the opinions of his ardents more than most. Whether it was out of religious deference or laziness Luet could never quite determine.

“And what of the blackthorn?” Brightness Juvol asked a scribe reporting what little they had gathered from their spanreed network.

“He’s reportedly married brightness Navani and their wedding was officiated by the… Stormfather.” The scribe checked her notes as if she didn’t believe it either.

“And what of his previous claims?” Fami, the head ardent, asked. While old in age with wrinkles abundant, Fami had never let that stop her from fulfilling her duties; in this case, keeping tabs on the heretic that was the high prince of war.

“He has given no indications to retract his statement that he has found the legendary city of Urithru and multiple sources have confirmed its existence. In addition, he continues to claim that the Almighty is dead.”

Others looked askance but Luet didn’t miss how her eyes narrowed and angerspren boiled under her shoes. “So he has truly gone mad,” she said.

Others discussed the matter while Luet tapped his leg. He couldn’t help but feel like they were only focusing on one major revelation and wondered if most people even grasped the importance of Urithru. He himself hardly understood the specifics but he knew it was heavily connected with the knight radiants. Could that be another reason why no one was giving it a second thought?

Luet knew what he had to say. “Perhaps the blackthorn is telling the truth?” His words cut through the discussion which had begun to return to more mundane topics.

“Luet,” the ardent said. “You believe him?”

“Of course not.” The glyph spren buzzed in his ear. Had it climbed into his collar? “But to withstand a storm you need a bulwark and I can’t think of a stronger one than brightlord Kholin. We could go to the Shatter Plains from our current position.”

“But that’s in the complete opposite direction. And what of his visions?” A man in uniform asked, most likely a captain. “Clearly those are the ravings of a man who has seen one too many battles. What if that’s all we find at the Shattered Plains?”

“But what of Urithru? It has to be real. Surely, all of our sources can’t be crazy.” Luet countered. “Perhaps it could provide better protection than Kholinar?”

“In the best case scenario Urithru will be nothing but a set of ruins, at worst a fabrication,” Fami said. “We must press on to something real, something people can rely on. Not this nonsense.”

Luet knew he could press the argument but didn’t want the others to get any ideas. “A fair point, I merely wanted to make sure we were considering all of our options.”

The discussion turned away from Luet- thankfully- and the advisors turned back to their task of rearranging chairs in a storm bunker.

 

After the meeting as advisors split off to discuss unfinished matters, Luet couldn’t get up fast enough. “You aren’t normally one to speak out in these meetings unless asked to.” Fami said, turning to him.

“Aren’t you always telling me to be more assertive?”

“That I am. But try and think these things through next time. You must be confident in your suggestions lest you waste time or make our brightlord look weak.”

“Of course.” Luet said. He stomached his annoyance and together the two of them began walking back to the main caravan where people were finishing setting up tents and meager shelters for the night. 

“Although, I suppose there were likely others who thought something similar. In that regard your contributions did have a silver lining.”

“I just can’t believe it.” Luet said, eager to change the topic. “Claims that the Almighty is dead and then this storm comes? What do you make of it?”

“I believe the Almighty is testing us. All we must do is weather the winds and they will pass.” Fami turned towards him and Luet had to look away. He always felt her gaze was like a shardblade. It’d cut through you and probably stone too. “Do you think Kholinar is the right decision?” She asked.

Luet chose his words carefully. “A part of me is curious,” he began, “Urithu? Home of the knight radiants? Surely you want to see it for yourself?”

“Why would I?”

“Aren’t you curious? It would be like seeing something right out of the Arguments.”

“I doubt the answers we seek lie in some dusty ruins.” She gazed out at their caravan, at people trying to make the best of a bad situation. “Here is where we’re needed.”

“Of course.” Luet said. It was a phrase he found himself repeating often around Fami.

The ardent raised an eyebrow before walking off to prepare the brightlord’s chambers, he was one of the few who had the privilege of a carriage to sleep in.

After a few moments, something buzzed in his ear. Luet swatted it like an obnoxious cremling and was surprised to see the invocation stick to his hand, not squashed but hitching a ride. Its markings flowed just beneath his skin making him feel slightly sick.

“Speak spren,” Luet commanded. “What must I do to be rid of you? Burn ten invocations? Fast for a week? Why do you vex me so?”

“Your… lies…” it vibrated. It would do this occasionally, speak broken phrases but oddly formed and slightly mispronounced. “Religion… I do not understand it.”

“Many men don’t.”

“Those events… were you there?”

“They happened a long time ago but were recorded in the Arguments. I couldn’t have seen them.”

It hummed contentedly, like a male ardent trying women’s food for the first time. “But.. why?”

“Why, what?”

“Share these… stories.”

“Hearing of how a herald killed a thousand voidbringers makes a man believe he can kill a single one. They provide hope… at least I hope they do.”

“Falsehoods giving hope.... Hmmm.”

Luet contemplated the strange spren. Surely this was a test of faith like Fami had said. But why him? Had his… thoughts been that noticeable? He had assumed questions were something everyone dealt with but surely none of the other ardents had dealt with this spren, or had they simply passed without trouble?

“Urithru… you want to go?” The spren asked.

“No.” The spren hummed in response. “Fine, yes. With the world ending I want to be standing behind the blackthorn.”

“But you said… it wasn’t?”

“I meant if.” He wanted to slam his face into his hands but what if the spren climbed into his eyeball?

Luet contemplated the spren. It didn’t seem malicious, rather like a child hearing its first lesson, asking a never ending string of whys until you just had to say “because.”

But the spren was right. Truthfully he did want to go to Urithru, not just for protection but for answers. How could the blackthorn be so confident the Almighty was dead? Why didn’t he doubt himself?

The spren hummed again.

 

Several more days into their journey Luet finally caved and asked Fami to give the daily sermon and she had thankfully agreed. It felt nice, Luet thought, to be sitting at the back of the crowd and not in front of it, with dirt beneath him and the evening sky above him. 

Fami told the story of the second fool, of the woman so jealous of beauty she destroyed it but never realized it wouldn’t make her less ugly. Luet hardly listened and focused on his notebook. A single creation spren shaped like a bag constantly flipping inside out hovered lazily nearby.

“Sand shifting, running neverending, running shifting sand.” It was good but needed to be longer…

“What are you working on?” Invocation asked from his hiding place in his collar. That’s what Luet had decided to name the strange spren.

Luet whispered back confident he wouldn’t be overheard. “A ketek about the 8th fool. You see he runs up a sandy mountain and never makes any progress. I find him more admirable than the other fools. He never gives up although he really, really should. It’s certainly a better flaw than jealousy.”

“Hmmm…” Invocation hummed. “It is the same both forward and backward? Why?”

“It elevates the poem. It helps communicate complex thoughts and-”

As Luet finished his ketek a small pile of sand sprung up from his notebook. He shut it so quickly a few people in  front of him glanced his way.

“Sorry,” he mouthed. He kicked at a few wiggling fear spen which had crawled out of the ground around him for some reason. After waiting a few moments, Luet cracked open the notebook. No sand.

He opened it more, angled so that no one else could see. Once there was more than a thumb’s length of space the sand reappeared although it didn’t shift off the page despite his tilting and didn’t move when he poked it. Instead his finger passed right through as if it wasn’t there.

“Very good.” Invocation hummed.

“Is this your doing, spren?” Luet hissed quietly. 

“No it is us. The strength of your lie created this illusion.” He sounded proud.

“Us? Who is “us”?”

“Me and you and me.” The spren seemed to believe his answer was sufficient. 

“Was that a ketek?” Luet asked.

“Yes. It wasn’t as hard as you made it sound. Why has it taken you so long to write yours?”

Luet chuckled. “There’s more to it than making it read the same forward and backwards.” He closed his notebook, that could be something for future Luet to deal with when he was somewhere private. “It’s about how the words change meaning while still being symmetrical. Not to mention it needs to be made of five different parts and…”

As Luet taught his unlikely companion the finer points of crafting a ketek he almost didn’t notice the scout that went running up to the brightness sitting at the back about level with Luet. The brightlord was at the front and going to him would most likely be too disruptive. Regardless, the scout appeared worried but the brightness wasn’t. 

“You wonder what they are saying?” Invocation asked.

“Yes.” Luet admitted but to eavesdrop would be rude. Besides he couldn’t even turn towards them without making it obvious he was curious. With their luck the everstorm was back for another round.

“I will go listen to them.” Invocation said, flowing down Luet’s robe and across the floor. Luet didn’t even have time to grab him. Could he grab him?

After a few painstaking moments, Invocation returned. 

“Did they see you?” Luet asked.

“No, I was impossible to see.” Invocation declared. “They were talking about a ‘caravan.’ I do not know this word yet.”

“It’s a group of people traveling, like us, although they’re probably merchants rather than refugees.” Luet said. “It’s not surprising more people have the same plan as us.”

“No you misunderstand. They aren’t going to Kholinar. They’re leaving.”

 

Later that night, brightlord Juvol held a small dinner for the heads of the caravan to celebrate their “good fortune” of encountering each other although Luet was sure they would also be sharing information and discussing potential trade deals. Fami and Luet were granted the privilege of attending as well.

It was the furthest from a feast the brightlord had ever hosted, Luet guessed. Rather than a banquet hall they ate beneath a large tent with hanging clusters of spheres providing light; their meal was hardly better than their rations, mostly meats and soulcast grain but they had decided to use luxury items that were difficult to divide amongst a large group such as a few bottles of wine.

Luet sat with Fami at the end of the table with a couple other members of the caravan far away from the light eyes. The guests ate ferociously and mostly talked amongst themselves ignoring the lone ardents.

Luet didn’t mind. While ardents weren’t parshmen they were still slaves. Most people didn’t talk to an ardent unless they wanted something, but that just meant he got to enjoy his meal in peace.

One of the caravaners, who wore a hat so long it drooped a little at the edges, took a large swig of wine. “Might be the best wine I’ve tasted in a long while.”

“You’ll have to get used to it,” his companion, who was trying - and failing it seemed - to grow a mustache, said, “After this trip we’ll drink better than this every night.”

“What are you trading?” Luet asked more out of politeness than true curiosity. “What supplies do you carry that could be so valuable?.”

“It’s not what we have,” Droopy hat said. “It’s where we’re going.”

“And where is that?” Fami asked between bites.

Not mustache leaned in close. “Urithru.” He whispered, like it was a secret.

“You are going to Urithru?” Luet asked, his curiosity no longer an act.

“Yep,” droopy hat said slyly. “We’re going to plunder it and be rich.”

“You expect to find treasure there?” Fami asked. She wasn’t even trying to hide her condescending tone.

“Course, anywhere that’s ancient has to have treasure. Its’a rule.” Not mustache said.

Luet chuckled into his wine. The idea that they could steal riches while the city was occupied by several armies was insane. 

“Let me ask you this,” droopy said, “have you been to Urithru?”

“What sort of fool do you take me for?” Fami started.

“Then how do you know there won’t be treasure?” Not-stache finished.

“Possibility is not the same as reality.” Fami said. She stopped eating entirely. The conversation was clearly more important.

“I would have said the same about a storm from the east. But here we are.” Droopy hat said, surprisingly succinct. 

Fami took a large drink of water and turned back to her meal. Luet could tell from the way that she avoided eye contact with the guests that she wanted the conversation to end - not because she was convinced but because she wanted to be polite.

Luet followed suit, although he had hardly spoken so he wasn’t sure if it held the same weight. He idly watched Invocation dart from cup to cup as people lifted them and set them down. He was making a game out of staying hidden.

Idly Luet constructed a scenario in his head where he tried to use this caravan as another reason to go to Urithru. Surely a larger group would provide more protection as they traveled. In every scenario he knew that Fami would dismiss his ideas. She was probably right anyway.

At the end of the feast Juvol spoke about comradery being more valuable than anything in the days ahead although Luet was sure the true reason behind his smile was the wine and trade deals he had made.

After a final toast, Luet trudged off to bed, his mind filled with failed arguments.

 

The next morning as Luet was packing the brighlord’s carriage Invocation crawled over his face.

“Storms!” Luet immediately cried out. He dropped the pack he had been carrying and started clawing at his face. He couldn’t touch Invocation or really feel him, but there was a slight weight. It was unnerving all the same. 

“Is everything all right?” Fami called from her place on the other side of the carriage.

At the sound of her voice both Invocation and Luet stopped moving. “Just fine,” Luet answered. “I just… stubbed my toe. I think I need to sit down for a bit.”

With Fami not hearing a no was the same as a yes so Luet walked a little away from the campsite and into the rockbuds before smacking his cheek, but more importantly Invocation who thankfully stuck to his palm again.

“Didn’t I tell you to never come near my face?” He asked.

“Yes, you did. But you’ve been ignoring me all night. This was the only way to get your attention.” Invocation hummed.

“For the last time,” Luet sighed. “That’s called sleeping and every human does it. It doesn’t mean I’m ignoring you or dying.”

“I know that,” Invocation said. “The bond. While weak I would have sensed your passing.”

“Is that so? Tell me, can you sense what emotion I’m feeling right now?”

The spren thought for a moment. “Curiosity?”

“No!” Luet said, forcefully but quietly. He didn’t want Fami to hear. “It’s more like anger. If you’re not going to leave me alone can you at least not make me want to claw my skin off? What’s so important that you have to tell me?”

“Those men from the caravan are leaving this morning.” 

“I know that. Do you really think I’m that ignorant?”

“If you know, then why are you packing up the brightlord’s things?”

“Because we’re leaving soon.” Sensing what the spren was getting at he added “I’m not going with the caravan.”

“But you want to go.” 

“Yes, I do. But sometimes what you want to do isn’t what you need to do.”

“And you need to pack the carriage?”

“No, well, yes.” He relented. “But this is just a temporary thing until we get new parshmen.”

“I still don’t understand. You do work you don’t want to do. You give sermons you don’t want to give. Why?”

Luet took a deep breath. “When I became an ardent, it was a choice. I knew what I was signing up for. It came with expectations and responsibilities. I can’t just leave that all behind.”

Invocation hummed. “Yes. I know the strength of oaths spoken… But remember the words you spoke the night of the Everstorm.”

Journey before destination, Luet thought. Words that had come to him just when he had been about to give up, when he thought the world was ending. Words that helped him get up the next morning.

“But oaths are not what keeps you here.” Invocation continued. “It is something else. There are words you must speak. Truths you must admit.”

Luet felt a weight drop in his stomach, heavier than any pack he had carried. His heart began beating quicker like he was about to speak in public. Why here? Why now? He was alone, save for Invocation. He was fine.

“Who are you talking to?” Asked a feminine voice behind them. Fami. Storms. How had he missed her approach?

He turned to face her, holding the hand with Invocation on it behind his back in a way that was probably more incriminating than just dropping it to his sides. “Nobody.” He tried to make it sound casual but he felt out of breath like he had been holding it for several minutes. “I was merely talking to myself. Preparing for the sermon later.”

“Were you now?” Fami asked. Her eyes flicked to Luet’s hand. Or was that just his imagination? “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been acting strange ever since that first night in the storm.”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Luet said. Invocation buzzed from his shoulder. He’d found prime seating to watch Luet flounder. “I’m just tired is all.” 

“That’s true of all of us but you seem… more affected. Perhaps, it’s not your body that is tired but your mind. When we get to Kholinar the devotiary of the mind may be able to help.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Luet began walking signaling they should go back to the carriage and leave this conversation behind. Fami didn’t say anything as they walked, most likely unconvinced.

Invocation buzzed softly, encouragingly in his ear. Fine. “Fami,” Luet began. “Do you ever feel unsure?”

“About going to Kholinar?” 

“Yes, but I mean more than that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you waver on a decision. Not on what you’re going to eat or spend your free time, not ever. How do you do it?”

Fami actually cracked a smile, or at least the corner of her mouth turned up at his strange line of questioning. “When you get to my age you already know what you want. It isn't much of a question anymore.”

“So experience then?” Luet continued. “But what about when it’s something new? I guess I am asking about Kholinar in a way. You’ve never had to flee your hometown. How do you know that Kholinar is the right choice?”

“I think the brightlord gives us a good example. You gather as much information as you can and then choose based on that.” 

Luet nodded. It was a perfectly reasonable line of logic. Then why didn’t it satisfy him? “So it’s a purely logical decision? What if your information is wrong? Doesn’t that give you pause?”

“I guess the rest is faith.” Fami shook her head. “We do our best and the Almighty provides everything else.”

Luet understood. It was a common enough sermon; he had given it often. Much like a wooden house could be soulcasted into a stone fortress, Fami’s faith soulcasted her worry into determination. 

“We’re ardents.” Fami continued. “And I don’t mean like the artifabrians and stormwardens with their numbers and equations. We don’t live in a world of certainty. But we don’t need to.”

Luet almost nodded his head in agreement. He almost said “of course” like he knew he should. But he felt that weight and all he wanted to do was set it down.

“I’m not an ardent.” He said softly. 

“What? Of course you are.”

“No, I mean I’m not a real ardent. Not like you or the other members of the devotiary. I wear the robes and shave my head, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? Shouldn’t it be?” He sucked in a deep breath. The weight of it all almost made him feel unsteady but Invocation buzzed in his ear urging him forward. 

“Do you want to know why I really joined the ardentia?” Luet continued. “It wasn't out of the kindness of my heart or a desire to improve myself or any reason it should have been. It was because I was scared of being pressed into an army and dying in some battle on the Shattered Plains. I’m a coward and I always have been.”

Those words filled Luet with a strength he hadn’t ever felt before. Like when he was on the fifth draft of a ketek and all the pieces suddenly clicked together. Where things had been so confusing before they now made sense. 

“What are you saying?” Fami asked.

“You’re so confident that you need to go to Kholinar, but I don’t feel that way. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way about anything. Storms, even my doubts have had doubts. But going to Urithru, that feels right. Not because it’s the safe choice but because I might finally get some answers there.”

Luet expected a lecture from Fami or maybe if she was feeling pitiful a brief scolding but instead he got an assuring pat on the shoulder. For Fami that was the same as a warm embrace.

“Well go then.”

“What?” 

“You’re right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so determined about anything.” Fami used the hand on his shoulder to steer him back to the carriage. “I’m sure brightlord Juvol will be fine with one less ardent.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. Storms, he likes you so much I bet you could even convince him to give you some spheres to buy passage on that caravan.” They walked past the caravan to Luet’s surprise. “He should be around here somewhere.” Fami muttered.

“Wait, right now? Shouldn’t we wait?”

“Ha!” Fami barked. “Where’d all that confidence go? If you’re really going to the Shattered Plains this will only be the first trial you’ll face.” She turned to him. “But know this before you go. No one in the ardentia is perfect; Almighty knows that’s the entire reason we’re here.”

“Of course.” Luet said, although he found it difficult to get out the words. This time, Invocation remained silent. 

I really enjoyed how this turned out and I might continue this story. I imagine the next "chapter" would have a time jump where he's gotten to Urithru and has some kind of confrontation there that progresses him to the third ideal. I feel like a discussion with Dalinar or Jasnah would make the most sense but part of me thinks Zahel could also be interesting. Who knows, I'm open to suggestions though.

Edited June 22, 2024 by Atlas333

[Elite01]

Great job with the fic, zahel is an ardent so there’s a connection there but he’s a martial ardent. 

 

I guess it depends on what the goal is for when he gets to the tower. Does he spend time with ardents or does he transition to being a knight radiant.