Atrapes was indeed seated on a throne, a solid black and thoroughly uncomfortable looking affair set to the left of the center of the raised platform that Hal ascended. The man himself was silent and unmoving, watching the Nehantite with cold, almost lifeless eyes. Behind the Knight-General and his throne was a pitch darkness, framed by huge hanging banners featuring the Imperial Gear.

Unlike Rayner, or the rest of the Knights, Atrapes was not resplendently attired; in fact, he wore what undoubtedly was battle armour. It was shined and cleaned, of course, but there were pitted marks and gouges carved into the breast plate, and little marks where shrapnel had embedded in the legs and arms and in fact all over.

"Stand, Kyle Rayner," Atrapes said finally, and waited for the alien to comply. He then stood himself, and put his hand on Rayner's shoulder. His hand was cold. "Despite yourself, you have been judged to be worthy of the title of Knight of the Imperial Throne. Your talents and abilities will be used to defend and secure the Empress and her Empire and its citizens from its enemies. You will strike down her foes. You will enforce her laws and orders. Do this, knowing that you are not alone.

"You will do this shoulder to shoulder with your fellows, your brothers and sisters, fellow Knights all. You will defend us and be defended; bleed with us and watch us bleed for you; you shall command us, and also be commanded. You will glory in victory or suffer in defeat with us. All you do will be repaid in kind: loyalty for loyalty, bravery for bravery, until the end. We are yours, and you are ours."

As he spoke, the room lightened. Sky blue banners featuring the Imperial Gear in white became visible along the side of the Hall as lights blazed beneath them, and they fluttered gently in a wind that seemed almost ethereal.