It was late in the afternoon on the 21st of Daedalan, and excitement,
fierce and palpable, was rising beside the banks of the Silverveil
River. There, at the end of Targa Road, before the bridge that crossed
into the newly founded city of Targossas, gathered the displaced masses
who championed the cause of Good. An ethereal veil of silver wavered in
the air, obscuring all view of the city that had, for five short years,
been steadily taking shape.

At last, a fanfare of horns sounded, raised by two columns of trumpeters
who lined the road. Out of the city came three dozen armed guards,
marching in lockstep single file. As they reached the trumpeters, they
broke off one by one to form two queues, marching until the trumpets
completed their song, then snapping smartly to attention.

As the final notes of the song echoed through the valley in the fading
sunlight, the gods Aurora and Deucalion stepped forth, striding
side-by-side between the rows of guards. Aurora's discerning gaze swept
over assembled crowd, her visage stern and unyielding. Standing at her
side, Deucalion crossed his arms and surveyed those assembled with eyes
of liquid gold.

"We gather before us now the committed and devout followers of Good, so
that all might witness the unveiling of the Heart of Dawn," proclaimed
Aurora, the Lightbringer. "For nigh on a decade we have been your
guides. We informed you long ago on our return that times would change.
That the teachings of Good had softened with age and become muted
shadows of their former glory."

Deucalion, the Righteous Fire nodded and continued. "Slowly, over time,
we have seen you grow from the original group of refugees, a scattering
of mortals shattered by the loss of the Jewel of the East, and flourish
into the beginnings of a united band of soldiers.

"Now you are ready to rise. As Targossas ascends to the heights of
magnificence, so too do the forces of Good. Where before there was only
tired resignation, jaded bitterness, and complacency, now we have shown
you your true way in life. So we see you all prevail."

"Creation shall prosper, with Targossas as the ardent defender of its
advancement," intoned the Lightbringer. "Our forces shall be united;
bitter rivalries and unrest, a thing of the past. Together you shall
stand, side by side, under our rule. We promised you a new city and we
delivered to you its foundation. Now we fulfill the latter part of that
promise: the city of Targossas itself."

"All shall be equal from this moment," warned Deucalion, his expression
severe. "This is the end of the Remnant and the beginning of the
Dawnspear. The old ties of leadership and rank are now cast aside. Thus
do we announce the new leader of the Dawnspear. He will lead with our
teachings forever in the forefront of his mind."

"We do not make this decision lightly," said the Lightbringer, nodding
at her bloodsworn, "nor shall this position weigh lightly on any mortal
who assumes it. We are neither forgiving, nor are we tolerant of errors.
The leader shall ensure that our will is done."

"Step forward, Silas Maynard, and kneel before us," commanded the
Lightbringer.

With a look of solemn intent, Silas Maynard moved toward the bloodsworn
gods and dropped to his knees.

"Your service to us and to the refugees since the fall of Shallam has
been exemplary," said Aurora. "You have led without being appointed a
leader, and held true to our vision."

Deucalion continued. "The fires of Good burn within you, and you cast
their light unto others, guiding their path. This is our expectation for
you to continue, and for you to pass on to others that they may someday
lead as well."

Thus was Silas Maynard chosen as the first Dawnlord of Targossas. He
recited the oath of citizenship:

My words are an oath to the Light and to Righteousness. To
disavow Them is to disavow Good, and to disavow Good is to
forfeit my life to Them.

I swear to obey Their will, for it is the absolute Truth
of Good.

I swear to give all that I am, sacrificing self to defend
the purity of Creation.

I swear to devote my life in service to Good, binding
myself to the city of Targossas.

I swear to do my utmost in defence of he city and her
ideals.

I swear that the enemies of Good shall be my enemies, and
that I will devote myself to their eradication.

May Light illuminate my journey, guiding my steps as I
walk the path of the Righteous.

Bound by this oath and chosen by the bloodsworn gods, a resounding cheer
rose and echoed across world. And as the jubilant clamour grew louder,
Aurora and Deucalion raised their hands together, speaking in unison:
"BEHOLD!"

Jubilant fanfare sounded as a blast of golden and silver light erupted
from the Silverveil River, and the shimmering veil before the city began
to fall, wavering and disappearing like ethereal mist. In its wake was
revealed a stunning new view of the city: the grand Champions' Bridge,
lined with statues of heroes and warriors from centuries of struggle and
victory; beyond, the immense Riverwall, which surrounded and protected
the centre of the city; in its midst, the Heart of Dawn, a monumental
edifice of stepped terraces rising from Brighthold Isle.

Burning columns of smoke, fire, and pure light then swept up from the
peak of the Heart of Dawn, intertwining and coalescing into the symbol
of a shield overlaid with a pair of scimitars: a signal to all the
world, marking the moment the burgeoning city took its place among the
great city-states of Achaea. And as citizenship in the city began
immediately to grow, all sung praises to the Righteous Fire and the
Lightbringer. Long may Targossas, the Dawnspear, stand as glorious
stronghold for Light and Righteousness, a mighty force under the
rallying banner of Good!

Penned by My hand on the 22nd of Aeguary, in the year 623 AF.