The water clock showed another hour passing, and the priest let his breath out in a soft sigh. Very nearly time, now. Soon, the first hour of a new day would come, and the ritual would begin.

Truth be told, the role he was to play in the ritual frightened the priest. Chosen for his beauty, his skill and his calm confidence, as tradition required, he felt neither beautiful, skilled nor confident, in these last hours. To be entirely responsible for guiding the Prince through the ritual, soothing away any fears Valiant might have and make it a pleasurable experience... it was too much for one priest. The slightest flaw in the ritual would be seen as a bad omen, and it would be his fault.

But, as the water trickled slowly away and the hours passed, the priest thought less and less about himself, and more and more about young Prince Valiant, soon to be the Prince-Heir. Surely, if the Prince could bear up under the pressure of being the Earthly Incarnation of the gods, oh, surely this one, young priest could bear up under the pressure of being Valiant's shoulder to lean on for this one, vital night.