When they entered the Conclave Chamber, hundreds and thousands of MidMerican scythes were gathered and sat on rows of semi-circular stone benches; Amber quickly left the apprentices, and she hurried to where a familiar deep purple robe flashed in her vision at the front. She could hear Avery walking beside her; Amber steered them through the crowd, towards Scythe Victoria and Scythe Darwin. The former was elegantly seated, her back straight like a rod, the latter slightly slouched, his sharp eyes scrutinizing the crowd of scythes and apprentices as they settled themselves on the benches. Amber did the same, and sat beside her mentor. She raised her head as Avery passed to sit beside her. Their eyes locked for a moment; then she quickly lowered her eyes before staring at the podium, where the High Blade Socrates made his entrance. His voiced boomed through the assembly.

"Greetings, fellow scythes and possibly future scythes! We are all gathered here for the Vernal Conclave, after meeting up some of you in at the Gathering Chamber!" He cleared his throat. "We will start with the Tolling of Names!" He backed away, as scythes slowly rised to form a scraggly queue.

Amber leaned towards Scythe Victoria as the blond scythe started to get up.

"What is the Tolling of Names?" She inquired in a whisper.

"The Tolling of Names is a ceremony where scythes cite ten gleaned and valient subjects, and telling why were they valient and brave."

Amber eyes scanned the line. It was growing incredibly long, and if all scythes went to say their gleaned subjects, this is going to take hours.

"That long?"

"Yes." Victoria brushed of a speck of dust from her purple robes. "Thankfully it's only ten names. Otherwise the Tolling will never finish." She stood. "Now hush, the Tolling of names is commencing."

Her mentor departed, and Amber looked at each scythe properly as they told the assembly - now most of them apprentices - about their gleanings.

This went on for a few hours. Amber had leaned forward in her seat at first; carefully listening to each gleaning to pick up some techniques; but soon after she grew bored and started to wonder why the thought of a conclave had seemed appealing to her before. Even though the presence of the scythes and their apprentices is mandatory, Amber wished that she was far away, doing anything else but listen to hundreds of scythes rambling on ten subjects. Next to her, Avery was looking at her curiously as she punched the stone bench.

"Hey, I know it's boring, but try to sit still. At least for another while." He looked at the line. "Which is about another hour," he added apologetically.

Amber hissed in exasperation and groaned inwardly.

"My patience has limits, you know," she muttered, and punched the stone bench again.

She studied her knuckles. They were reddish and pale, bruised from all the pummeling. Avery grabbed her hand gently and studied the bruises.

"The bench did nothing to you," he pointed out gently. "You just need to stay calm. Scythe Victoria would not want your knuckles to be broken, unless your plan was to skip your training." He smiled teasingly.

Amber snorted.

"Of course not," she snapped, then added in a more gentle tone. "I would like to anger her, but not in such a silly way."

Avery gave a sharp laugh and released her injured hand before looking at the scythes, still reciting. Amber sucked in a pained breath as she touched her knuckles. Maybe she went a bit far, by hitting the bench. It was made of stone, after all. Punching stone was never a good idea. She did wish that Avery had held her hand for a while longer though. Then Amber pushed that thought away furiously. They made a deal. And she will keep her promise.