Acceptance: Part One

Doors have opened for our trusted Lieutenant, but some attempt to stand on the threshold.

The sun rises over the horizon; I haven't slept very well. I spent most of the night in the Halls of Leto, and then I went into my room where I slept for little more than an hour. My armour feels heavy, yet it's the only thing reminding me 'why' " and also it's the only thing keeping me upright, yet another positive criticism of being encased in a shell of metal.
A few Knights return from their night " patrols, strolling through the courtyard to their beds from the city of Vallen. Some say 'hello' to me as we pass each other, whereas others refuse to acknowledge my existence. I know that they know, and I know that they hate me for I killed their Captain. I know that I did it. I know…
I know…
Hell comes a few hours of further prayer and repentance later, in the Tower's courtyard. Now lacking the sunrise-induced serenity, people " mages, magi and Knights alike - gather around a single Knight near the wall between the Knight Quarters and the Halls of Leto.
"My people," He begins, standing on a discarded merchants' chest to gain attention, "I stand before you to ask you to remember our wondrous late Captain, whom was slain by the hands of one of our own," 
"Indeed," I concur, making myself known to the party surrounding him; people look to me, some in shock, some in shame, "I killed him, he asked me too,"
"Was the mage too much for him?" The First-Lieutenant asks, "Did they hurt him too much? You know that should have been you, don't you?"
"I know… I know…" I sigh,
"You disgrace our Order, Redd; you're scum " go home, we have enough rogue mages to kill our men without your joining them." He spits, and finally I recognise him as Myron, the Knight I'd had the pleasure of fighting with in earlier years.
"I do not aid mages in killing Knights of The Order, Myron" Before I can continue, he talks a swing at me; thought I know better, I retaliate, punching him in the jaw. Fists, we discover, are petty weapons against armour. Swords were better, our last fight was… interesting. I'm thankful for it, it was via that fight because it led me to meet Captain Luke Reynolds, who would soon become my best friend.
I punch him hard in the chest, furious that, when push comes to shove, I killed my best friend. I… I murdered him; I put a sword through his chest. This is all my fault, that much I know… I know. Though Myron's wearing a breastplate, he stumbles backward from the impact.
"I have no family, unlike you. Mine were killed, by mages. I'd never be here otherwise. Yes, I did deal the final hit to the Captain, but on his orders, and I refused several times before." I back at Myron, who says nothing to me and looks with fear-drowned eyes. "Do not judge me, for I am not yours to judge."
Eerily slow clapping sounds from behind the crowd. Knights and mages move aside and make way for Commander Grind.
"Good show, lads, I've heard quite enough. I have a task for you, however,"
"What are you on about, Sir?" Myron asks, though his attitude was disrespectful giving that Grind is our commanding officer, I'll admit that the question was fairly vague.
"I want you to question a mage," Grind replies coldly to Myron before smiling in a sadistic way, as per usual, when he decides to smile, "You've both been nominated for a promotion to Captaincy,"