When this was finished, the ceremony was over. Everyone was approaching Victus and congratulating him. Sparkling wine and still wine continued to be passed around. Some soldiers walked to the big door and began to lift the bar that kept it closed. Victus remained towards the back of the room as the doors swung open. Sun poured in and cheers could be heard from outside. It sounded as if thousands of people were gathered in the square below, waiting to see their king.
Ostinus remained back with Victus and his top commanders. He overhead them chatting but pretended as if he was not paying attention.
“It sounds as though there are so many people outside. They should be in Lunemire celebrating Zentiog, that is more important than this,” said the King with a tone in his voice that hinted he might be overwhelmed.
“Today they are celebrating you. I’m sure many may head to Lunemire for the festivals afterwards”. Andres replied as he adjusted his new garments.
“Indeed. They await their king. When you see their relief, excitement, and happiness…it will lift your spirit,” said Ronne Bederough as he walked towards the great open doors and exited to the balcony. His form turned to a silhouette in the light and he disappeared to the terrace outside. Orvious and Andres followed. The sound of the cheers elevated each time one of the men came out as the people saluted the role call of King Victus’s men. Ostinus and the other last remaining guard exited the room leaving just King Victus and Bayloff behind. The majestic light from the morning sun filled the room.
Suddenly a strong breeze entered through the open doors. It blew hard enough that some candles went out and some papers and light items were blown off tables. The sun seemed to duck behind clouds and the beaming light vanished; however the sounds of cheers continued outside. Bayloff began to walk to the door; Victus would be the last to exit. Bayloff had taken another few steps towards the exit when he was stopped by the voice of his friend.
“Bayloff, come here.” The King’s face was serious and firm.
The commander stopped, turned, and did as he was asked. Victus looked young and vibrant in his King’s clothing, his long brown hair showing a soft complexion. Bayloff looked aged and had almost as much grey hair in his beard as he did brown; however he looked lean and handsome in his commander attire. “Yes sire?” He said to his king.
“When these formalities are over, we must get right to work,” Victus said in a low voice as if there could be someone near enough to hear. “First order of business is to discuss the former council members.”
“It will be done, sire.” Responded Bayloff.
“Second will be the Crimson Fox. We must better understand their position in the cities.” The King paused and Bayloff just stared at him. The look told Victus he didn’t think this was the appropriate time or place to discuss such matters. “I want to know everything about those who conduct magic…those who study the arcane arts. We bore witness to its might in our battles. We must understand who controls it. While it helped us defeat the Faletonian armies, it could one day lead to our demise. This will be your task.” Victus let out a sigh as if to blow out the anxiety he felt.
“When you arrange for the final payment for the services of the mages, I want you to get more information on their magic. We must sit down and discuss the breadth of the Crimson Fox’s magic capabilities at once. There must be someone in charge of the arcane arts within their organization. They appear to keep it far too controlled for this not to be so. Find him and bring him to me.” Victus put a finger to his chin pensively as if an idea just came to him. “Also, I want the name and address of each person who can use magic. If the arcane arts are being practiced, it needs to be controlled, and should be transparent and useful to our kingdom. Make this a priority.”
“Yes sire.” Bayloff said as he put one hand on his friend’s shoulders. “But first…go to your people.” Another gust of wind entered the room and the day seemed to get a little darker. This enabled both men to see out of the doors since they were no longer blinded by any incoming light. There were indeed thousands of people in the square and the streets. Bayloff left the room and cheers went up for him. He joined his fellow commanders to the side of the platform.
King Victus Antonel let out a large sigh and adjusted his sash while straightening the crown on his head. It was quite clear he did not like to wear either. Ostinus could see him approaching the door, although the people in the street below could not. “He’ll always be a warrior first and politician second.” Ostinus thought to himself with veneration. King Victus made his way to the great doors and stepped beyond the entrance onto the pavilion on the other side. As he made his first steps forward the crowd erupted in cheers. He was about twenty-five above the crowd on the balcony. Below and in front of the pavilion was a sea of people, countless numbers of his subjects.
When he got to the end of the pavilion he stood a foot back from the railing and looked out over everyone. The cheers seemed to get louder and louder. Barely turning his body he swung his eyes over to Bayloff. The King’s top commander was clapping and returned Victus’s glance with an encouraging nod.
Victus then scanned the crowd again and quickly lifted his left arm high into the air, fist clenched. The cheers grew louder, almost deafening. He no longer had to squint at the crowd as clouds covered the sun. These were his people and he was their king. He fed off of their excitement. His confidence grew with their hope. He raised his other arm. With both arms pointed to the gray skies, he lifted his head confidently and walked to the very edge of the pavilion and leaned forward against the railing. A chant began that seemed it would fill all Herridon.
“Victus! Victus! Victus!” The people screamed the name of their beloved king as held his hands up towards the heavens.
Chapter 33
The celebration of Zentiog, The Day of Life, was underway. The actual holy day was still a couple of days off, but the week of celebration had begun. Services took place in the temples of Phelios each day and night as well as in the temples of other gods as well. The previous day was the first of the weeklong festivities. Each night families had traditional meals together and said prayers. The previous night most had enjoyed braised rabbit with potatoes and beets. On this night, the second night, the tradition was fish and mixed vegetables. Customarily, the finest wine that was kept in the house would accompany all meals. Zentiog was a celebration and a time of reflection.
On day number two of the week of Zentiog the tradition was to have a long procession and parade in the streets of Lunemire. Men, women and children would come from Rogsnelk and Abellard to partake in the extravagant revels. The procession normally started about an hour before midday and wound its way through the whole city. This normally took around four hours since the streets were typically crowded. Merchants and performers of all types would line the streets. Flowers and decorations adorned the path of the parade. Patrons would walk about and cheer as the procession took place. Within the actual parade were large wheeled structures each with its own story. Some were built to look like ships and people inside of them would throw goodies out to the crowds. Others would be giant animals or insects vibrantly painted. Scattered in the procession were also priests of Phelios who would wave to the crowd and chant prayers over them, at times tossing flower petals or holy water and touching the heads of children.
This was no ordinary time in Lunemire or any of the three cities. Victus and his men had already informed the councils of both Abellard and Rogsnelk that they were no longer in power. The King had usurped the leadership of both cities and the people, for the most part, seemed happy about it. Lunemire, however, was too powerful of a city for Victus to lay any claim to. Envoys from the new king already arrived in Lunemire to assure the city that Victus had secured control and that the relationship between the cities of the Kingdom of the South Sea and Lunemire would not only continue but would be prosperous. Regardless, no one knew what to expect for the holy week or, for that matter, the general relations between the cities. Would men travel
to Lunemire given the current circumstances?
Elberon always worked diligently to set up both his temple and the city for the procession in Lunemire. He coordinated with the city’s florist and also florists from the other cities to make sure the streets were decorated exquisitely. The flowers were usually given as donations from either the florists of the city or some of the upper class. The time of Zentiog was his favorite time of the year. The weather was typically great and he loved to watch the parade. He usually did so from an elevated street near his temple.
He found himself observing from the same spot as he had the previous year. The location afforded him a beautiful view above a large length of street that the procession would march down. Elberon, like other priests of Phelios, wore special robes during Zentiog. On this day he garbed a navy blue robe that had gold stitching down the sleeves and sides. Over the bottom of his sternum was a gold sun with golden rays spraying forth. Another priest named Miles and several other onlookers were with Elberon. He scoured the area below him. The flowers were beautifully arranged in the streets and the sounds of people having a good time filled the air.
The sun dodged in and out of clouds periodically filling the streets with its light. The parade had started but the two priests were almost an hour away from where it had begun so there was no sign of the procession yet. Elberon looked over the people in the street in front of him then glanced to the sky. He squinted heavily but his eyes were given a reprieve as a large cloud covered the sun. An all too familiar feeling fell over the priest: that uncomfortable sentiment of nervousness and anxiety. The feeling reminded him of the time when he had first felt it, back on the road to the Singrin Peaks. At that time he had known nothing of Faletonia and hardly anything of Victus Antonel.
Elberon had become aware that the formal coronation of the new king would occur immediately and would actually be on this day. While he understood that Victus needed to strengthen his hold over his land and people immediately, the priest was very concerned with the news. The people of Rogsnelk and Abellard were reportedly elated with the developments. They could not wait to herald in their new king and a new era. Elberon did not have an issue with the coronation itself; it was with the celebration of the coronation. It fell during the holy week of the celebration of Zentiog and on the day of the blessed parade. Certainly the first coronation the cities had ever seen would undoubtedly be the focus of many people, taking away from the celebrations of Zentiog.
A heavy breeze brushed against Elberon’s face and garments. His robe hugged against his body under the wind. The sun remained hidden from sight; he looked as far down the street as he could. As if he read Elberon’s mind the other priest, called Miles, said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so few people line the streets. Normally you wouldn’t be able to move down in the street by this time.” Elberon said nothing but agreed with Miles. He had warned Victus, had told him of his dream. If that was indeed Phelios speaking to him, then wouldn’t the sun god be displeased with the Zentiog celebration thus far? The attention was on the coronation and power of Victus Antonel; more effort was put towards the celebration of man than the celebration of their god.
It felt like no coincidence that the sky was grey. The sun would not come out strong again that day. Elberon prayed to Phelios but his god felt distant. Could he have done more? Probably not. But he should have found a way to do something. Phelios warned him. The god of the sun threatened men but how could one priest make them take heed? The mighty Phelios had come to him, had spoken o him directly, and he felt he had failed his god As anxiety set in, he thought of Phelios’s warning of the trials from the “foreign power”. Would his god turn his back on the people? The song of Calaris did not come without recompense. When the people did not keep their side of the bargain, would they feel his wrath? The sky seemed to darken a bit further and Elberon began to pray. He would not enjoy this Zentiog the same way he had enjoyed others.
***
The crowds were jammed tight into the streets, body against body. Each person tried to get a better view. Some men had children sitting on their shoulders so that they could actually see. Another roar went up amongst the masses.
Two men with cloaks on, hoods pulled over their heads, were in the crowd but did not join in the cheering. They too were there to see the new king of the cities of Rogsnelk and Abellard. They watched as the king pumped his hands towards the heavens. He gave the people hope and they loved him for it. His name began to be chanted among the crowd. “Victus! Victus! Victus!” They shouted louder each time.
The two hooded men drew closer to each other. “They adore him. Perhaps there are ways to prosper under his rule.” One man said to the other quietly under the tone of the boisterous crown.
The other man turned a slight scowl towards him. “He knows nothing of ruling. Nothing of how any of this works.” As he finished speaking Jordyn Kynburl, former member of the Rogsnelk council, aggressively shoved a young man who got too close while he was jumping up and down screaming the name of his new king. The man’s exuberance disgusted Jordyn.
“Perhaps this is what is best for the cities. Maybe Victus Antonel, or shall I say King Victus Antonel, will bring about a golden age under his rule.” He was purposefully using a tantalizing tone to provoke scornful Jordyn. “Maybe his reign will be long? Perhaps his reign will be prosperous.”
Jordyn Kynburl turned to his fellow former councilman. His curly black hair hung over his face deviously beneath his hood. He motioned towards the crowd, gesturing for someone to join him. A man approached suddenly from seemingly out of nowhere and greeted the men with a bow. Pleshil shook both men’s hands.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen” Pleshil said. He looked up quickly towards the balcony in the distance where King Victus Antonel stood. “The Crimson Fox appreciates your generosity and looks forward to working with you.”
“And we look forward to working with you too, my friend. Here is the first payment to show you our commitment,” said Jordyn as he handed a small sack of coins to Pleshil who tucked it into his belt. He then turned back to the other hooded man, removed his hood and said, “You see, perhaps King Victus’s reign will not be so long after all.” Both men looked towards the king on the balcony and grinned wickedly.
About the Author
Blake F. Bisciotti was born in New Jersey and currently lives in New York with his wife Danielle and son Luca with another baby boy on the way. Writing a fantasy fiction book was always a dream of his since he began reading the genre as a young boy. Kingdom Come is his first novel.
Kingdom Come (Price of Power Book 1) Page 42
