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Bells sang in the early morning quiet, rousing the capital to motion. Their song was one of celebration and triumph, of living history and change as it came to nations. It had only been a few weeks before that the same bells tolled in mourning.
Such bells were late heralds, as the flock of the city had already flooded around the great cathedral in anticipation for the event that was to start shortly.
Inside, the aisles were strumming with people. Most of them minor nobles and their entourages, but the closer one got to the throne propped upon a pedestal at the far end, the higher one got in rank. The whole scene was flooded by a whitish light that poured in as a product of the stain glassed windows lining the walls. Here scenes of past saints and heroes were illuminated beautifully in color. In one window flew Saint Talmon, blowing clouds of rain over a parched and dying land with his inhuman strength of air. Another showed a woman, Saint Galda, with multiple beams of light blazing from behind her as they slammed into black masses closing in. Even a window of Bartholomew the Hunter, that Drab dragon-slaying saint, sat intricately colored and assembled with him tossing a lasso in order to attach himself to a dragon breaking into flight.
This was a holy place, keep of the Lord Around for his dominion on land.
The murmuring of the crowd inside picked up as the bells died down. From the front, a man in white robes stepped forward. As he made his way down the hall, the light touched the white and turned it into shimmering glass of a thousand colors. He murmured something and stood waving an incense burner, sending snakes of smoke slithering across his path.
The audience quieted from their roaring to just a few faint whispers as the priest proceeded. Meanwhile, more priests appeared and opened what windows they could, as well as the great gilded doors to the entrance. Outside, a massive crowd of civilians stood anxiously, but none moved forward into the chapel due to the guards blocking their path. The horde did shift as many pushed their way frontwards to glimpse into the cathedral.
When the priest reached the throne he stopped and turned back towards the smoked naive before announcing the consecration, motioning with his arms, and bowing his head for a moment. The light around him suddenly dimmed for just a moment, brief and quick before day restored the balance. To those Weightless in the crowd, the priest no doubt glowed vibrant and strong. Suddenly, he pushed his hands forward and sent a wave of air throughout the cathedral. The air howled against the stone walls and through the great arches of the ceiling before carrying with it the smoke through the opened windows and doors.
Then, the choir began chanting. From the front stepped a procession of priests in white, their arms raised in ceremony, and at the center stood the next monarch of Saina. The heir wasn't a noble looking man, or a refined older woman, but a young girl clad in a dress of green with a white glittering shawl over her shoulders. The next Queen.
Avalia walked slowly down the great carpet lining the cathedral floor, listening closely to the humming of the priests. She knew that hundreds of eyes focused in on her at that moment, more than she could ever have dreamed. She didn't need to convince herself that she wasn't nervous, there was no ignoring that fact. She was more nervous than she had probably ever been, and her stomach certainly reflected that. Ironically, it was the pure fear associated with vomiting at her own coronation that kept her from doing just that. That's how Avalia was, step by step she would walk through whatever challenged her. Not because it was easy, but because it simply had to happen.
I can only hope the same is true for the kingdom., she thought as they inched closer to the throne.
Why her uncle had chosen her as his heir was the question of the century, she was sure, and could tell by the glares she received from nobles that they felt the same way as she came down the aisle. Of course, it wasn't good to think about him either. Crying at one's coronation would also mean death by embarrassment, and so she simply faced forward and let her mind drift before she overwhelmed herself.
All thing's considered, once you removed the people and the pressure, the ceremony was quite nice. The chanting of the priests, both men and women, harmonized perfectly off each other. The open windows let in the smells of nature, a welcome change from the stench of the city. The church made extra care to ensure no development took place near the cathedral. For a moment, it almost made her feel like a queen. She only wished her father, mother, and sisters could be here to see it.
She doubted the shock of it all had left them yet. It certainly hadn't left her.
They approached the throne and the priest behind her lifted crown of Saina above her head, where he kept it as she ascended the steps upwards. The coronation throne, much like the ceremony, was rather simple. In fact, it was built of wood with little furnishing. Only small air swirls were carved on the edges, with a sun rising above clouds etched into the back. They said it came from the first king. Avalia had a hard time believing it.
She turned and faced the audience watching silently. They had seen this same spectacle seven times in the last decade. It was nothing new, just rinse and repeat. They probably expect to see it again too before this is all over she swallowed hard. When she sat, the priest came up behind her, announced some words in Taren tongue, an old and revered language, and placed the crown gingerly on her golden head.
I only hope saving this kingdom doesn't cost me my soul. she thought, feeling her chest rise with heavy breathing.
"Lord Around guard the Queen!" the priest shouted.
The crowd followed.
The council room was large and circular. It had formerly been a small private library for the king. The books and shelves had been cleared out not long ago and replaced with a large oak table at the center. The tower it sat it was high enough up that the windows around the tower showed nothing but blue sky unless one came up close enough to them. A fitting place, Avalia believed, for a group called the "sky council" to meet.
She fiddled with the books and maps that littered the table. This was the moment in her coronation her uncle had probably considered most important should he pass, she knew, and truthfully it was the only other time her mind kept drifting to in the previous days outside of the coronation itself. From the artfully marked maps on the table, she had deduced that the situation looked bad. Tevonia had penetrated deep into Saina. She pondered on just how close they were as she glanced out the window. That caused her to shiver.
As for the Pomadians, their advance had been slow but secure. What they'd taken in the west was locked down. Her uncle had briefly told her that the Pomadians were likely to start putting up a tougher fight should they hold off the Bascari for more than a week. That brought her to the third enemy. She heard stories of the Bascari raids across the south. Sometimes, it was horrid slaughter. She turned away from those thoughts.
Looking over the map, she considered the situation. Maybe if we just... she paused. No, who am I joking. I know nothing of tactics. Strategy. Which was used where again? she groaned in frustration, sitting down with a thud on her chair at the table. Luckily, things like that were exactly why she had this council to begin with. In a way, it was clearly her uncle's way of supporting her on the throne. Such a move reeked of him, actually. Aol never failed to invent a clever solution to a stupid problem he himself had created. Things would be far simpler if someone else had been crowned monarch.
Lifting herself off the table, she sat up and straightened her posture. That council of hers was destined to show up any minute now. She knew some of the people on it. Some more than others. Still, a few names didn't register quite so clearly as they probably should have.
good job, Ava, completely prepared once again. she chastised herself.
It was becoming a perfect start to her queenship.