The Coronation (3)
The imperial palace courtyard was crowded from early morning.
The coronation was scheduled for noon, when the sun would stand at its highest. Guests from every part of the Empire had therefore begun arriving well before the ceremony.
Tourel, newly appointed captain of the palace guard after the change of government, was directing his men through another round of identity checks when a thunder of hooves rose beyond the courtyard gate.
A carriage was approaching. He could hear its wheels between the heavy beats of the horses' feet.
The sound was impressive enough to draw the attention of guards and visitors alike.
Tourel watched the vehicle come closer under a mounted escort. Something about the crests embossed upon it looked familiar.
A swan… and a cardinal with its wings spread.
He searched his memory, then drew in a sharp breath.
House Pelgaroin and House Deharem!
Few families were discussed more in the capital these days.
Pelgaroin in particular had become one of the most powerful houses in the new order. Some had begun calling its count the king of the central region.
It was not a family an imperial guard captain could afford to offend.
One mistake could ruin me…
Tourel called his subordinates together and briefly explained who was arriving. All of them straightened immediately.
The horses came to a restless halt.
Mounted knights dismounted and opened the carriage door. Tourel hurried forward with his men.
Theorad Deharem stepped out first. He offered a hand to Ashley of House Pelgaroin, then to the elf who served at his mansion.
For a moment Tourel found himself staring at the elf.
She wore an elegant black dress trimmed with white frills. Against that dark fabric, her silver hair shone all the more brightly. Her beauty was so striking that he nearly forgot why he had come forward.
He caught himself and bowed.
“It is an honor to welcome the brightest stars of the central region. I am Tourel, captain of the guard.”
Theorad glanced toward Ashley, clearly uncertain how to respond to such elaborate courtesy.
She smiled at his bewilderment and brushed a speck of dust from his shoulder. Then she adjusted the brooch at his throat.
“You'll have to grow accustomed to being greeted this way,” she whispered. “Sir Theorad is an indispensable friend of the new Empire—and a man much favored by House Pelgaroin.”
She turned gracefully toward Tourel, mindful of the many eyes upon them.
“It is our honor to meet the brave guardian of the imperial palace. Are you here to verify our identities?”
“Yes, my lady. I apologize for the inconvenience. With the coronation approaching, we must guard against outside threats, including impersonation by doppelgangers or transformation magic. I ask your understanding.”
“Of course. One moment.”
Ashley took an identification card from her handbag. Theorad produced his own from inside his coat.
Tourel compared both with a record bearing the imperial seal. He checked them carefully but found no sign of forgery.
He returned their cards and bowed again.
“Your identities have been confirmed. You may enter the audience chamber. Shall I guide you?”
“We would be grateful.”
Tourel led the way.
As Theorad followed, he looked about the palace grounds with growing fascination. White-lion statues stood along the broad avenue, recalling the road through the Mage Tower. At the palace entrance, stern statues of knights watched over either side of the gate.
The outbuildings sprawled around the main palace, each grand enough to be a mansion in its own right.
He could understand why visitors called the place an extravagant display of imperial tradition. Much of that splendor had been commissioned by Calvanes, whose taste for showing his power was well known. Still, the sheer grandeur was hard to resist admiring.
But…
Ashley seemed entirely at ease. The elf, too, walked ahead with little more than an occasional blink.
Theorad kept his admiration to himself, cleared his throat, and straightened his clothing. He felt oddly embarrassed, though nobody had said a word.
When they entered the throne room under Tourel's guidance, Theorad was struck by another sight.
Marble flooring stretched across a vast hall. A red carpet ran from the entrance toward an ornate golden throne standing above the floor between towering white pillars.
The elf tugged at his sleeve, urging him to move farther inside. He nodded and followed.
Armored knights stood along the center aisle, guiding the arriving guests toward either side of the hall.
Theorad considered where to stand, then led Ashley and the elf to the left.
Among the nobles on the other side he would surely find people eager to discuss imperial affairs. That would quickly exhaust him. The left, meanwhile, seemed free of highborn guests. Proban, Benelia's longtime lieutenant in the Dawning Steps, was standing there with his soldiers.
“Not a bad choice,” Ashley murmured amid the noise.
“Her Highness likely invited commoners because she wants to end the division between noble and commoner. By choosing this side, you've shown that you agree with that aim. And over there…”
She indicated a man standing somewhat awkwardly apart from the other guests.
“That's Marquis Villais, head of House Fermadan and one of the Empire's five great pillars. He's known as a thoughtful man. His attendance suggests he has good reason to believe supporting Benelia is the wise course.”
“I see. What of the other great houses?”
“As far as I know, all the others have declined. They'll probably claim they remain faithful to the former emperor, to preserve their dignity. It won't change much.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Pelgaroin and Fermadan command two of the strongest military forces. With both supporting the new imperial household, the other great families will eventually have little choice but to recognize Benelia.”
Theorad nodded as though he had understood the political significance all along.
In truth, he had only chosen the left to avoid tiring conversations. There seemed no need to confess that.
“The coronation is about to begin! Quiet, please!”
Roylen emerged through a side door and raised his voice.
As the hall fell silent, he announced:
“Orc Slayer! Benevolent Commander! Commander of the Dawning Steps, pillar and hope of the Empire! Her Highness Benelia von Esteban enters!”
Benelia appeared through the opened doors. The knights bowed in unison.
She wore a golden robe and a long red cloak, with her treasured sword at her waist. The garments were unfamiliar on her, yet somehow suited her perfectly.
She crossed the silent hall, ascended the dais, and stopped before the throne.
Another door opened. The paladin Landis entered in a white ceremonial robe.
“The earthly representative of Lord Karatias, light and salt of the Empire, bearer of blessings—Saintess Rastain!”
Rastain entered with a light veil over her head, worn so the radiance associated with her blessing would not overwhelm the guests.
She walked carefully, hands folded before her. Blind young girls followed, carrying bowls of sacred oil, spoons, and red cushions bearing a golden crown.
Rastain looked tense. This was her first time presiding over an emperor's coronation. She drew a breath and began the words she had rehearsed.
“As God's representative upon the earth, I command you, Princess Benelia, to kneel.”
Benelia knelt and bowed her head.
One of the girls took oil from a bowl with a spoon and poured it carefully over Benelia's head and hands.
Rastain steadied her voice.
“I ask you: why do you seek to become emperor?”
“For a better Empire.”
“For whom shall the Empire be better?”
“For everyone who lives within it—from the poor person's grain of rice to the noble's honor. The new Empire will serve its people without discrimination by rank.”
“Is there no falsehood in your promise?”
“How could a mere mortal lie before God? If I break this vow, I ask to be punished.”
Rastain nodded. She lifted the crown from its cushion and placed it upon Benelia's head.
“Your promise has been heard. In the name of Karatias, God of Light, I proclaim you the new emperor of this Empire.”
Rastain stepped back.
Wearing her golden crown, Benelia rose and surveyed the people assembled before her. Then she turned and took her seat upon the throne.
Her cloak flowed down from the royal seat like a crimson banner.
Even before a hall full of onlookers, she sat with the untroubled bearing of one accustomed to command.
“Listen to me, everyone. A new world…”
The room became utterly still.
“…will not be built with spears and swords.”
Peace rather than war. Sweat rather than blood.
The first words of the new emperor were met by cheers from the commoners. Nobles bowed deeply as well.
“Long live Her Majesty the Emperor!”
“Loyalty to Her Majesty!”
“Long live the Emperor!”
The applause and acclamations filled the hall.
Everyone seemed swept up in admiration for the new ruler.
Everyone, that is, except Theorad.
Benelia was smiling—and she was looking directly at him.