The procession was led by three figures; led by Aria Oktarian. Aria’s grey eyes were still wet with tears. Her red hair was in a ponytail behind her, supplemented with dark ribbon. Her dress had a way of both being simplistic and elegant, something that people used to being around her would have said matched her personality. She wore a blue gem around her neck shaped into a dragon, but currently it was covered by both of her hands. Behind her marched the Lord General Maxim Omare; his eyes downcast and his body visibly lowered in spirits, stealing away the rejuvenating energy the jovial, elderly, man had once had. Behind, but close to Aria, stood Captain Vincent Maerfore, the middle-aged captain of the Royal Guard. Many followed, first by the nobility of Ciradon, then the people who could make to join the morbid parade.
The bells of the Temple of the Ascended, where the procession was headed, gave off a dull ringing once every minute. One ring for every year since the civil war. One ring for every year of Derrick’s reign. The news had come suddenly to them all. Derrick had been in failing health since the Banquet of Masks. Having so many people in his home for the first time, and the business of the Pacificoran boy, and then the Krugerstani had visibly weakened him. That had all come before massive demonstrations forced a war with Pacificora, wild-upped by the calls of the lord named Vyrin Dolor. The Imperial Palace had been forced to be rebuilt a second time; the life of Tyrea, Aria’s mother, snuffed out like a flame without fuel in the ruins of the once magnificent building. It had been a year long conflict, with relatively few casualties, as wars went. It had been an air war, a war the brought down the Great Pacific and destroyed the symbol of Imperial power within Criska. The acts war and loss of his sister had seeped much of his remaining strength away from him. And the final straw had been when the Hyrkans, their centuries old rivals, began posturing again. Maerfore had found him first. Devastated he had not left his liege’s side.The benevolent leader that united the country was dead, leaving Aria, as the next in line. In his dying will, there was at least one, miniscule, respite for the young woman; Maxim Omare had been named Lord Regent, to govern over the country until Aria reached the age of twenty-five.
The country was in shock, distressed; mourning his loss, as if their lamentation could bring back his spirit. For just over forty years he had worked to unify the country, and for thirty he had risen to be a man that became a beacon of hope of the nation as it rebuilt itself from the ruins that had filled it. Now, the person the had seemed an immortal man of calm and control was among the many hundreds of thousands of people that fell during the war he had been a part of. It was a lifeline to that time that was severed.
When the procession reached the Temple of the Ascended, and the bed was brought to the top of it’s many stairs, it was Aria who took to the microphone, a shock to much of the nation. Aria was widely known to fit the general idea people had of the Crisk better than most; quiet, reserved, and meek. Most had expected that Maxim would have spoken since he had been the Emperor’s companions throughout most of his life.
There were tears in Aria’s voice as she spoke. “I mourn the loss of Emperor Derrick with you, people of Criska and the United Tribes. I have lost a friend, a father figure, and an uncle, we have all of us lost a light in a dark world.” The speech was well rehearsed. It was the only reason it was even coming out now. “We can not, will not, allow that light to fade. It is said… that… progress cannot be halted, only slowed. Our progress will not falter, can not falter. We must not forget the ideals handed down by my Uncle; Unity, Peace, and Freedom. We must stand by his words if we wish to survive.” Behind her one of the warrior-priests of the Ascended came out from the temple and tapped her shoulder.
Aria turned away, and kneeled as the bearers of the bed set it down. The priest took a small white and red book from his belt and began speaking from verses within the texts. The time moved slowly. Eventually wood was brought from inside of the temple and placed all about the bed. “We commend your soul, Derrick Oktarian, first of his Imperial house, to the Ascended.” As he finished the fire was lit. The priest removed Derrick’s mask before the fire grew too large. “Your ashes will be scattered upon Mount Duare, and beckon life anew to sprout from you. May your soul be welcomed into the Eternal City by Tyrea, and those who bled and died with you, and those of your family before you.”
There were tears from many of them as time passed. Then, the ashes of the fallen Emperor were taken, leaving Aria, Maxim, and Captain Maerfore on the stairs of the temple alone, then, finally, they too left.
A Month Later
The Imperial Palace -- ‘Dragon’s Keep’
The Imperial Palace -- ‘Dragon’s Keep’
“Aria, it is time. The invitations were sent nearly month ago, soon after Derrick’s death.” The voice of the Lord Regent was louder than Omare had intended it to be, and more commanding. Aria was visibly distraught. Her posture was slouched and nervous, her eyes giving off a darker color then they had a month and a half ago.
They were in Aria’s room. The walls were painted white with pale blue veils of silk marking where her bed was, and thicker curtains where her windows were. Her own heraldry was self-painted on the far wall; a blue dragon surrounded by a full moon, outlined in black. The room was large, but was not filled with trinkets, or needless ornamentation. The bed she sat on was made of pine wood, as well as the dresser, and door to her closet.
“Why is it time, Maxim? What have I done? The most I have done was nearly get a man killed and cause a war.” Aria’s voice still had an air of it’s elegance, but there was a harshness that hadn’t been there before. A release valve that she didn’t have to have before.
“The bastard Vyrin started that foolishness, not you.” There was not a moment of hesitation as he said the words. “You will not be in your uncle’s shadow, my lady. There is a strength I see in you that I think Tyrea gave you, or the father.” No one had told her who her father was. Not even her mother. In truth, her father was now deployed to the Selkie, supposedly doing his best to court one of the ladies. They had even had a daughter there. “Derrick was a man of great theatrics and acting. You do not where the same number of masks as he did. That is not a weakness.”
“My uncle accomplished much more. They had a respect for him. He could play the people like a pianist plays their piano. I do not have that.” Aria replied to Maxim’s attempted encouragement. Maxim shook his head.
“No, you don’t, but you have something else. The people love you for your kindness to them, your generosity. And now they look for someone to fill the void that his absence has left, Aria. They look to you. The Ascended has given you something that many leaders have wanted.”
Aria said nothing as she stared at the floor where her dog and cat were cuddled on the floor together. “Tonight you will be given the title of Empress, and if it be your will, I will continue to serve you in the duties so you may continue your studies, and continue to learn the ways of the court. I know your uncle wouldn’t want to steal away your youth, and I will not do it either.”
“Maxim, I would like you to still serve, but now as Lord Protector.” Aria rose from her bed, with a half attempted smile on her face. Maxim Omare replied with a bow, followed by a salute.
“Your will be done, my lady.” Maxim turned away from her and headed for the door way. “If you will excuse me, I will head down to the main floor, and allow you to get ready. I have to meet with the recently arrived Edem commander as it is.” Aria watched him leave, without saying a word.
The first thing an arrival to the palace would have noticed was the material of the building. It was made of grey stone and steel. Four years ago people being welcomed to the palace for the Banquet of Masks had been faced with a bright white modern palace. Now it was like that of an old fortress, similar to the original that had stood so many decades before. It was a gothic mansion surrounded by a large wall and a wide ditch that required a bridge to cross.
Defensive weapons were brandished on those walls; missile defense systems, artillery pieces, and machine guns, all atop of the high hill that the old palace had sat upon. The careful observer, and studier of Crisk military history would have recognized the design. It was a fortress of the Traitor General’s design, a more grandiose version of the House Kirge Mansion that had withheld an army for a month on it’s own. The aides of the Imperial court would have known that it was in fact designed and overseen by Maxim Omare himself.
As one approached closer, and could see within the mansion, almost everything was made of pine within, and painted with a white trim. Similar to the Palace that Derrick had constructed it was made to confuse those who entered. Suits of silver armor with white tabards trimmed in blue stood at mostly uniform distances apart. Those that entered the fortress were welcomed by statues of prowling leopards. It was a site with equal attempts made at intimidating and impressing those that looked approached it.
Faceless guards opened the doors for those that approached. The time was fast approaching when the coronation would take place. Servants maneuvered around the Crisk nobility as they busied themselves with menial tasks and finishing last bits of cleaning. Members of the Royal Guard patrolled the halls in a similar fashion to that of four years prior, only now they were joined by a number of people armored as if in the Middle Ages, ornate swords openly carried at their hips like the Crisk carried their rapiers, who seemed to be competing with the Crisk in paleness. Where the Crisk generally had dark hair however, theirs were blondes, light browns, and even whites. The Edem mercenaries who had been hired by Aria herself two months prior, who called themselves the Oathbound, had become long time guards of the Dragon’s Keep. A name that suited them well.
All was in order, and the hoped that this time there would be no...incidents.
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