The young prince stepped up to the table and bowed his head. Here his mother had briefly rested months earlier before being entombed. Here his father would briefly rest as well, before following his mother into the royal crypt. And then, Relam would be completely and totally alone.
“Don’t leave me,” Relam whispered, reaching out and touching the table. “Please. I’m not strong enough to do this on my own.”
Tears began to slide down his cheeks as he thought about what was before him, and what lay behind. Of all the grief and suffering he had endured in the last year, of all the uncertainty and pain yet to come. The king was the most powerful man in the land, but also the most alone. Relam had seen this in his father. King Orram had only known two people he could always trust and count on, Relam and the queen. Beyond them, everyone had an agenda they were pushing, a desire to manipulate the crown. There was nobody else truly on his father’s side. How would Relam fare in such circumstances? He did not even have a family to fall back on.
Relam turned away from the stone table, dabbing at his eyes, as a stiff wind blew his hood off his head. He groped at it angrily to pull it forward again, half turning. Then, he stopped and turned further, frowning.
Not far away stood the entrance to the crypts, the silver doors shut tight. Relam hesitated, then moved towards them, stepping softly as though any movement might disturb the residents of the crypt.
As he began descending towards the door, the clouds overhead cleared slightly and a sliver of moonlight shone forth, spreading across the doors. Relam watched awestruck as the silver tracery glowed with an inner light, radiating out into the night and washing over Relam. The soon-to-be king shook his head in amazement, and laid a hand on the door, running his fingers over the silver lines. As he did, he realized that there was something written there, revealed by the moonlight. The silver letters were in an archaic but readable script, curving around the archway.
Here rest the Kings and Queens of the Sthan.
Though they pass on, their spirit lingers.
Remember them, oh future monarchs.
Learn from their failures.
Strive to match their success.
Rule their people well.
The message flared once again in the moonlight, then the clouds returned and the words faded before Relam’s eyes, until the door was a uniform, gray surface once more.
“Remember them,” Relam murmured, scraping his hand over the place the words had been. “Learn from them.”
The young prince retreated from the door a few paces and sat down, legs crossed, head bowed. Around him, the cold winter night swirled and howled with the passage of the wind. But inside, Relam felt peace for the first time in many months. He was not perfect. He knew that. But he had been beginning to think that as king he would have to be.
The crypt door’s exhortation had reminded him that even kings are flawed, that they make mistakes. Sometimes terrible mistakes, like his grandfather starting the war against the Orell. But Relam could learn and strive to be better, avoid making the same mistakes his ancestors had. And all the while, the former monarchs would be with him. His mother. His father. All of his ancestors, those he had known briefly and those he had known not at all. They were all with him as long as he remembered.
“You will not be forgotten,” Relam whispered to the night, thinking of his parents. “I will remember. And I will cherish those memories as I cherished you in life. I wish that you were still living, but I realize now that you are never truly gone. Guide me through my reign. Help me to rule our people well.”
Relam took a deep breath and fell silent, meditating on the past. The present. And the future.
He was still sitting there when the dawn came, the sun rushing up from the eastern horizon to burn away the clouds and bring light to a new day. All around the young prince, the world came alive with hope and promise.
Relam tilted his head back and closed his eyes, savoring the moment, drinking it in so that he would never forget it. It was peace. Peace with who he was and what he could be. And a determination to live up to the legacy of his ancestors.
As Relam opened his eyes, he heard a tentative footstep behind him, boots scraping on the stone path. “Your highness?” a voice asked.
Relam turned and saw his guards standing a respectful distance behind him, wrapped in thick cloaks to block out the cold. Underneath, they were wearing dress uniforms and their armor was polished until it gleamed like the rising sun, but they still carried their everyday weapons.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Galen said, shuffling his feet a little. “But we were sent to find you by the Citadel.”
Relam nodded and slowly got to his feet. “It’s time, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, your highness,” Galen said, bowing. “It is nearly time. Today you become a king.”
The young prince smiled slightly and shook his head. “No,” he replied, glancing back at the silver doors of the royal crypt. “The ceremony today is what it is, a ceremony. Last night is when I became a king.”
He ignored Galen’s perplexed look and strode through his guards, headed back to the Citadel. Wil flashed him a grin and a thumbs up, which Relam acknowledged with a wink. From the Citadel, Relam would travel to Assembly Hall, where the coronation would take place. The short journey along the River Road would be the final leg in the long and painful race for the throne.
Chapter 48
Four hours later, Relam stood in the front foyer of Assembly Hall. The massive, gilded doors that led to the main hall were sealed at the moment, a trickle of conversation filtering through. Relam took a deep breath, released it, then rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension of the moment.
“Relax, you Highness,” Galen advised. “Try and enjoy it. This only happens once you know.”
“Relax?” Relam growled. “It’s taking all of my strength just to stand up. Is all of this really necessary?” He swatted at the folds of the heavy cloth of gold cloak that hung from his shoulders and reached nearly to the floor. In addition to this extravagant accoutrement, Relam also wore ceremonial armor made of gold, silver, and white gold. His normal sword hung at his side, opposite a heavy jeweled dagger. The sheaths of both were liberally adorned with garnets and other precious stones.
“You have to make an impression,” Eric said stubbornly, standing straight and tall.
“Probably by tripping and falling over,” Relam muttered.
“Better not do that,” Wil advised. “You might never get back up with all that.”
“Thank you so much for pointing that out,” Relam muttered.
“I live to serve,” the grinning guardsman replied.
Relam shook his head in disgust and turned back to face the doors as a slim figure slipped through the portal.
“It’s time,” Cevet said, closing the doors gently behind him. “One minute to go. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Relam replied.
“Good,” Cevet murmured. “I’ll slip in after you so I can watch. The others are already assembled.”
Relam nodded, picturing the scene that awaited him in the Assembly Hall as Cevet stepped to the side, counting under his breath. When he reached the count of sixty, he nodded to Galen and Eric.
The two guards stepped forward and threw the doors back on their hinges so that they slammed against the wall to either side with a rolling BOOM!
“His Highness, the Crown Prince Relam!” Galen called as heads turned and the Assembly rose to its feet in a sea of glittering court garb.
Relam strode slowly and impressively into the hall, advancing towards the front of the room, where the Council waited. As he passed each row, the nobles that occupied it knelt, bowing their heads respectfully. Behind Relam, his guards paced slowly, careful not to step on his cloak. Relam himself was too preoccupied with walking smoothly and in a straight line to pay them much attention though.
The short walk to the front of the room seemed to
last for years. By the time Relam reached the High Council, his hands were sweating badly and his breath was coming short and fast from nerves.
The Council members rose as one and bowed from the waist. Relam inclined his head gravely and moved past them to the dais, upon which stood a pedestal with the royal crown perched on top of it. Behind the pedestal stood Lord Garenes, the hastily appointed Head of the Assembly. Behind him, the sons of the great lords were arrayed in a semicircle, turned out in their best. As Relam mounted the stage, he noticed Cevet slip up the stairs on the other side to join the other four lordlings. There was some murmuring at this, but Relam wanted his friend there, no matter what his father had done.
Relam joined Lord Garenes at the pedestal. Garenes bowed low, then stood erect quickly as though even this brief display of fealty was too much. But he really did not have a choice. The Assembly had decided.
As Garenes straightened, the rest of the Assembly resumed their seats, watching the stage expectantly, waiting with baited breath. Lord Garenes held his hands up, spread wide, the sleeves of his robes hanging like wings.
“The reign of another Sthan King has come to an end,” he intoned. “And so, a new one must begin. King Orram was called to the land of the dead before his time, but he has left an heir to the throne, his son, Prince Relam. What does this Assembly say in response?”
Lord Laurencian stood at the Council table, shaking his shoulder length hair back. “The High Council has decided. Relam is worthy to follow his father. This Council pledges its loyalty to the new king!”
“The house of Farad pledges its loyalty!” Knet’s father shouted.
“The house of Reshi pledges its loyalty!” Jatt’s father added.
“The house of Laurencian pledges its loyalty!” Delan’s father broke in.
The other great lords added their names, until only Garenes had not spoken from the Council.
“The house of Garenes, pledges its loyalty,” the great lord said in a firm, clear voice.
As soon as Garenes had spoken, other lords in the larger Assembly began standing and pledging their loyalty. They did not do so one at a time though, but in a confused mass, shouting over each other. Somehow, they spoke with enough force that Relam heard each and every man clearly.
When the last noble had resumed his seat, Garenes stepped forward again. “The Assembly has spoken,” he said gravely, reaching for the crown. “We unanimously support you, your majesty.”
As Garenes turned, Relam knelt quickly so that the crown could be placed upon his head. The great lord held the crown high for all to see, then slowly lowered it onto Relam’s head. The new king was surprised by how heavy it was, and for a moment was worried that he would not be able to support the extra weight easily. Then, he was standing, slowly, trying to keep the crown from wobbling, and turning to face the Assembly.
“All hail King Relam!” Garenes shouted.
“Hail!” five voices called behind Relam, echoed an instant later by the Assembly. Relam smiled gravely and looked out over his subjects. His people.
“To the palace!” Garenes shouted over the noise of celebration. “To the coronation feast!”
A raucous cheer erupted from the nobles as they all stood. Relam grinned and started down the steps to ground level. He moved at a stately pace, keeping his head absolutely still, the crown already a heavy burden.
When he reached the double doors at the rear of the Assembly Hall, Wil and Johann stepped forward and heaved on the massive double doors. Relam straightened the crown and moved quickly across the entrance hall, the High Council and the Assembly trailing behind. Wil and Johann shoved their way through the milling nobles and stood ready beside the outer doors, watching Relam expectantly. The young king took a deep breath, then nodded slightly.
As the two guards threw the outer doors open, a wall of sound hit Relam. Thousands of people were gathered on both sides of the River Road despite the cold winter weather, calling his name and cheering. Relam raised a hand uncertainly and the cheers redoubled, some stamping their feet and whistling as well. City guards lined the edges of the path Relam was to take, holding the crowd back, but Relam saw smiles on their faces as well, and on the face of Commander Hadere, who was standing at the foot of the stairs. The commander bowed low as Relam passed. Relam waited for the man to straighten, then saluted him. Hadere, blinked, then drew himself up proudly and returned the salute.
As Relam moved down onto the path marked out for him, the rest of the group formed up behind. His four guards were split, one ahead, one to either side, one behind. Behind the rear guard strode the High Council, solemn and powerful, gazing around imperiously. They were followed by the Assembly, which displayed considerably more excitement and support of their new king. And bringing up the rear was the new generation of leaders. Cevet, in the center of the line, flanked by Delan and Sebast, Jatt and Knet taking positions at either end of the line. The lordlings did not receive the cheers that Relam did, but the young king knew they would be key to his success. They represented hope for the future just as Relam did. A hope for a unified kingdom.
The procession crawled forward at Relam’s pace. The crown wobbled on his head occasionally, sending a thrill of panic through him, then it would stabilize and sit there like a rock, heavy and unmoving. And all the while he was passing thousands who shouted his name, cheered, and reached out to touch him despite the guards holding them back. Relam noticed them and he was touched that so many had come, that so many believed in him. He wondered nervously how long their support would last.
At long last they came to the palace steps and the royal plaza, which was filled with even more citizens of Etares. Relam mounted the steps carefully, then turned and faced his people after he had climbed to the top. Around him, the procession of nobles fanned out and took positions behind and to either side. The Council clustered closest to Relam, hovering like vultures. Then, the lordlings slipped between them, standing just in front of their parents and just behind Relam.
Just the way the young king had planned.
He raised his hands now for quiet and an expectant hush fell over the crowd.
“Thank you,” Relam managed, his throat suddenly dry. “Today is a historic day, my friends. The end of one rule, the beginning of another. It is also a turning point in the history of our kingdom. Instead of being divided by petty squabbles we will be united as one voice, one force, and one kingdom, as we were meant to be. We will defend our lands from lawlessness, and we will restore order to this kingdom. You will be able to travel safely from the northern reaches to the end of the southern peninsula. From Ardia, around the world, and back.”
The crowd cheered and applauded, interrupting Relam’s speech.
“And know this!” Relam called, bringing everyone back to order. “I am going to work for this kingdom. I am going to work for each and every one of you. Because we are all the Sthan Kingdom. We are all brothers and sisters of one race, one people. One voice, united.”
Relam stepped back slightly as the crowd erupted in approval again, louder than he had expected. Relam allowed the cheering and yelling to run its course, then stepped forward again.
“Now,” he said, raising his arms dramatically. “I have just one last thing to say.”
The crowd leaned forward in anticipation.
“Let’s celebrate!” Relam shouted, grinning.
The roar was deafening as the people of Etares cheered, laughed, and slapped each other on the back. Servants from the palace began setting up tables with food and drinks, right there in the plaza. All over the city, similar impromptu feasts were being prepared even as this one was. Relam’s stomach rumbled in anticipation of the abundant good food.
“Gentlemen,” he said turning to the nobles gathered behind him. “Let us celebrate as well. To the banquet hall.”
The High Council peeled off in twos and threes, murmuring amongst themselves, some shaking their heads in disgust. The supremacists, no doubt. They would have much to say abo
ut Relam’s little speech.
“You’ve made some enemies today, boy.”
Relam turned and saw Oreius at the far end of the front porch, half hidden in shadow. “You made it!” he cried, stepping towards the sword master quickly. “Have you been there the whole time?”
“It would appear we need to keep working on that awareness drill,” Oreius observed drily. But there was a half-smile on his face and his eyes were twinkling merrily.
“I had a bit on my mind,” Relam replied peevishly. “What with that crowd of vultures-”
“Careful,” the old man murmured. “Don’t let on how much you despise them, not yet.”
“Right,” Relam agreed. “I should at least try to get through one day with them.”
“Precisely,” Oreius agreed, beginning to move towards the palace doors. “There will be time to annoy them and insult them later. I promise.”
Relam laughed. “Of course,” he agreed, following the old man. “But not today.”
“No,” Oreius agreed. “Today, we celebrate.”
Master and apprentice stepped into the banquet hall together, into the milling mass of nobles trying to get to their seats. Relam navigated the crowd skillfully, making his way to the ornate chair that was now his. Somewhere along the way, Oreius vanished, probably to find Tar and Yavvis.
When Relam sat down, the nobles sat down as well, almost immediately to avoid keeping the king waiting. All along the table, chairs scraped back then jerked forward as their occupants settled themselves. Relam noticed happily that the nearest eight seats were filled with the people he most wanted there. The lordlings and sword masters, the team that had fought with him at the Citadel and believed in him.
The moment the last of the guests had taken their seats, the servants’ entrances flew open and a parade of white clad cooks’ assistants marched out, pushing carts laden with trays. First came an assortment of soups, stews, and salads with fresh, crusty bread and six different cheeses. Relam had eaten a very light breakfast in anticipation of the sumptuous banquet and he dug in hungrily now, the others around the table following his example.
The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1) Page 56
