A Light at the End of the Tunnel (IC)

[Mets Hayk]

A Light at the End of the Tunnel
The Wedding of Grand Duchess Sara and Mikhail Romanovič, Duke of Chernarus
OOC THREAD

INTRO
Tragedy was commonplace...

Be it Hrach - Gdridg - or, perhaps, even Hovhannes...terrible events had befallen upon Armenia's monarchs; thus - of course - leading many to believe that, if anything, the family was condemned to a cycle of fear and hopelessness. Whereas the lattermost of the aforementioned sovereigns is - by all means - alive, albeit in a comatose state, many - including the Marshal (or prime minister) of Armenia, the honourable Sergey Akimov - have awaited the worst. Without any heir, nor a designated successor for the incapacitated emperor, the Grand Duke Konstantin had - of course - persuaded his niece, the Grand Duchess Sarah, to marry Mikhail Romanovič - the Duke of Chernarus. Indeed - Twas partly in an attempt to raise the morale of the fatherland - and partly to have a stable monarchical figurehead at Armenia's helm. For perhaps, just perhaps, this was Armenia's last hope.

---

Yerevan, Yerevan Governorate
Holy Armenian Empire

There she sat...

The Grand Duchess Sara - the eldest daughter of the (deceased) Hrach I - and the eldest sister of the now-comatose emperor, stared out the window and beheld the bustling city of Yerevan. Whereas there was quite the aura of...joy, especially amongst the imperial family, for her - there was, indeed, a great bit of anxiousness. Twas her big day, after all, and she didn't want to ruin it...not to mention that she - against her wishes - went sleepless for the entire night; while Soukias Gogbashian - the court tailor - had worked to create one of, if not the most, elegant dresses for the young duchess.

And then came Alan Kirakosian (the imperial family's chauffer) - and with him - Sergey Akimov, the 'Marshal' (or prime minister) of the empire. Both were dressed according to her uncle's wishes - wearing sleek, monocolour suits adorned with a plethora of laurels.

"Your majesty," said Akimov - nodding his head. "It's time..."

With that, the duchess arose, and promptly followed the two men to the elegant, and appropriately named, 'Sovereign of Armenia' - a modified Maserati 5000 GT that had been purchased by her father. Indeed...Twas quite the vehicle - with its glossy red exterior - and the much softer bluish-leather interior. As it had been said, Twas fit for royalty. And, with that, Sara and the chauffer set off...Akimov following behind in his own, less expensive, vehicle. Their destination was the Amarr Palace...whence they would wait for Mikhail to arrive.

Sara was met by her family at the palace...all of whom, after a brief exchange of greetings, crowded around the door. After all - Twas, most definitely, the first time most would actually be able to witness Mikhail. Her uncle, the Grand Duke Konstantin, approached...

"Look at you. I remember when you were - er...about this tall.", he chuckled - pointing to his knee. "If only your father were here to see you..."

"I'm sure he would've been delighted.", Sara replied - a smile on her face.

"Please - do take a seat...", Konstantin said as he motioned for the others to make way.

There sat one, elaborately decorated (and padded), chair...especially made for this occasion. Indeed - Twas not unlike the imperial family to lavishly present such delicate objects...and it certainly wasn't past the government to spend quite a bit of money on them.

And so, the young bride waited...for - once Mikhail had arrived - they were to begin the procession to the church...where - as previously instructed - foreign guests were instructed to go.

[Trans-Uralia]

Arriving at the front of the Amarr Palace was a sleek armored GAZ Volga 21-24 with the flag of the Trans-Uralian Federation waving proudly from the front left corner of the hood and the flag of the Royal family waving from the front right corner.

The driver steps out of the car from the driver's seat, walking over to the rear doors of the car.

The driver opens the door and out steps the Duke of Chernarus himself, wearing a sleek dark suit with many medals of both the former Soviet Union and current royal medals of the Trans-Uralian Federation on the right breast pocket and a small flower sitting proudly in the left breast pocket.

The Duke stands well above the car, making it seem as if he had stepped out from a clown car. He walks up the stairs towards the entrance to the palace, swallowing his nervousness and fear with each step.

He arrives at the entrance of the palace, taking a deep breath and then exhaling, and with that he enters the palace.

[Mets Hayk]

Arriving at the front of the Amarr Palace was a sleek armored GAZ Volga 21-24 with the flag of the Trans-Uralian Federation waving proudly from the front left corner of the hood and the flag of the Royal family waving from the front right corner.

The driver steps out of the car from the driver's seat, walking over to the rear doors of the car.

The driver opens the door and out steps the Duke of Chernarus himself, wearing a sleek dark suit with many medals of both the former Soviet Union and current royal medals of the Trans-Uralian Federation on the right breast pocket and a small flower sitting proudly in the left breast pocket.

The Duke stands well above the car, making it seem as if he had stepped out from a clown car. He walks up the stairs towards the entrance to the palace, swallowing his nervousness and fear with each step.

He arrives at the entrance of the palace, taking a deep breath and then exhaling, and with that he enters the palace.

"He's arrived!"
"He's here!"
"It's him!"

An ecstasy of fumbling erupted, with many a person stumbling over themselves - hoping to catch a glimpse of the duke. Indeed, Twas a bit of chaos...yet - all came to a stop when Konstantin passed through, Sara's hand locked with his. Besides, he didn't want her to be trampled - did he? Nonetheless - the shouting came to a close...and he let go of his niece. Indeed, Twas - certainly - without any doubt, him. The grand duke, with a friendly nod, strode backwards - arms crossed behind his back.

A door opened behind them...and out poured many a clergyman and state official, all of whom either carried large portraits or banners - and all whom adorned costumes expected of their roles. Indeed, Sara's white - elegant - dress was quite the contrast to the sea of black clerical robes and, seemingly, militaristic uniforms. Perhaps - after all - this did symbolize a shining light, piercing through the ever-compassing abyss of melancholic monotony. Perhaps - Twas a sign of a break...of better times.

The grand duchess approached Mikhail...a look of great joy adorning her face. No matter how many times she'd been told that - yes - this was her 'big day' - it never prepared her for the true ecstasy of the moment...of which wasn't even topped by the most exciting events of her life beforehand. She had, of course, offered her hand...

"Without further ado," Konstantin said - his voice booming throughout the room - "Onwards!"

And...with that, all prepared for their trek to Saint Sarkis Cathedral. At the head of the procession would be the couple - followed by Grand Duke Konstantin and the rest of the family, of whom themselves followed by the clergymen, and then the government officials. Indeed, Twas a typical setup...even if these times were most untypical.

[Trans-Uralia]

Mikhail gave a slight smile and took the hand of the grand duchess, and and began the trek to the Saint Sarkis Cathedral. Although through his look that would make one think he had the nerves of steel, he was a nervous wreck on the inside.

He would keep thinking to himself as he did the walk to the Cathedral "What the hell am I doing here?", the Duke's thoughts kept darting "Are my hands too sweaty? Is what I chose to wear good?"

He took a few glances of the grand duchess as the walk went on and on for what felt like more than a lifetime, he hadn't been prepared for this. He calmed this thoughts, seemingly beginning an internal monologue "This is all for the Tsar's alliance with the Armenians anyways, it's just an arranged marriage. I don't even know what this woman thinks of me."

At this point, he didn't have a choice to turn back, the Duke kept walking the path towards the cathedral at the head of the large procession.

[Mets Hayk]

Mikhail gave a slight smile and took the hand of the grand duchess, and and began the trek to the Saint Sarkis Cathedral. Although through his look that would make one think he had the nerves of steel, he was a nervous wreck on the inside.

He would keep thinking to himself as he did the walk to the Cathedral "What the hell am I doing here?", the Duke's thoughts kept darting "Are my hands too sweaty? Is what I chose to wear good?"

He took a few glances of the grand duchess as the walk went on and on for what felt like more than a lifetime, he hadn't been prepared for this. He calmed this thoughts, seemingly beginning an internal monologue "This is all for the Tsar's alliance with the Armenians anyways, it's just an arranged marriage. I don't even know what this woman thinks of me."

At this point, he didn't have a choice to turn back, the Duke kept walking the path towards the cathedral at the head of the large procession.

And so - they walked...

The streets had been cleared beforehand...for, after all, it was quite the important event. Bystanders - most of whom were of the upper class - watched from the sidewalks and windows...for this, likely, would be the only chance to see the couple in a moment of serenity. Indeed, the grand duchess felt rather uncomfortable - as she glanced back at them, only to lock eyes and then - after an uncomfortable smile - turn away. Yet, Twasn't an uncommon occurrence...for - after all - the same had happened with her brother: the late Gdridg II.

Nonetheless...the procession came to a halt once they'd reached the cathedral. Its tan exterior - in the setting sun - was quite the image...the building itself, in Sara's mind, representing the beauty and sophistication of the Armenian state...and the diminishing light resembling - potentially - the end of an era. Perhaps it was the anxiousness...or perhaps, it was the never-ending worry for her brother - of whom laid dormant at the nearby hospital. Yet - nonetheless - she'd sucked it up, and went on.

At the doors stood two guardsmen...both of whom donned the typical attire. They - no doubt - embodied authority...something that Sara, despite growing up in such an environment, had never grown used to. She was - for a lack of a better word - pampered. She was the daughter of Armenia's most influential monarch, after all...and she - no doubt - deserved the best. The doors creaked open, and the guards - as per their training - remained completely silent. The grand duchess turned to Mikhail, gave a reassuring smile, and stepped inside.

Its interior was grandiose and lavishly decorated. The stone had been finely polished...and icons, banners, and other items were abound - all of which hung, straightly, on the walls. Stood atop the dais was Arkam Azadian, the confessor of the imperial family. His appearance was warm...as was his attitude. Truly - a paternalistic figure.

'This is it', she thought.

[Trans-Uralia]

Mikhail gave a slight smile and took the hand of the grand duchess, and and began the trek to the Saint Sarkis Cathedral. Although through his look that would make one think he had the nerves of steel, he was a nervous wreck on the inside.

He would keep thinking to himself as he did the walk to the Cathedral "What the hell am I doing here?", the Duke's thoughts kept darting "Are my hands too sweaty? Is what I chose to wear good?"

He took a few glances of the grand duchess as the walk went on and on for what felt like more than a lifetime, he hadn't been prepared for this. He calmed this thoughts, seemingly beginning an internal monologue "This is all for the Tsar's alliance with the Armenians anyways, it's just an arranged marriage. I don't even know what this woman thinks of me."

At this point, he didn't have a choice to turn back, the Duke kept walking the path towards the cathedral at the head of the large procession.

And so - they walked...

The streets had been cleared beforehand...for, after all, it was quite the important event. Bystanders - most of whom were of the upper class - watched from the sidewalks and windows...for this, likely, would be the only chance to see the couple in a moment of serenity. Indeed, the grand duchess felt rather uncomfortable - as she glanced back at them, only to lock eyes and then - after an uncomfortable smile - turn away. Yet, Twasn't an uncommon occurrence...for - after all - the same had happened with her brother: the late Gdridg II.

Nonetheless...the procession came to a halt once they'd reached the cathedral. Its tan exterior - in the setting sun - was quite the image...the building itself, in Sara's mind, representing the beauty and sophistication of the Armenian state...and the diminishing light resembling - potentially - the end of an era. Perhaps it was the anxiousness...or perhaps, it was the never-ending worry for her brother - of whom laid dormant at the nearby hospital. Yet - nonetheless - she'd sucked it up, and went on.

At the doors stood two guardsmen...both of whom donned the typical attire. They - no doubt - embodied authority...something that Sara, despite growing up in such an environment, had never grown used to. She was - for a lack of a better word - pampered. She was the daughter of Armenia's most influential monarch, after all...and she - no doubt - deserved the best. The doors creaked open, and the guards - as per their training - remained completely silent. The grand duchess turned to Mikhail, gave a reassuring smile, and stepped inside.

Its interior was grandiose and lavishly decorated. The stone had been finely polished...and icons, banners, and other items were abound - all of which hung, straightly, on the walls. Stood atop the dais was Arkam Azadian, the confessor of the imperial family. His appearance was warm...as was his attitude. Truly - a paternalistic figure.

'This is it', she thought.

Mikhail enjoyed the smile from the grand duchess but it wouldn't last with his entrance into the cathedral

Mikhail gave a slightly audible nervous exhale, being almost visibly nervous as he took in the sight of the extremely lavish Cathedral and particularly Arkam Azadian.

For the first few times in his adult life, Mikhail felt at ease by the man in a nostalgic sense. A feeling that not even Mikhail's own Father, the Tsar of Uralia, could have ever done.

Mikhail straightens his posture slightly as he begins to walk towards the confessor of the Armenian Royal family, prepared to cleanse both himself and the grand duchess of all sin and to become pure before the marriage altar.

[Mets Hayk]

And so - they walked...

The streets had been cleared beforehand...for, after all, it was quite the important event. Bystanders - most of whom were of the upper class - watched from the sidewalks and windows...for this, likely, would be the only chance to see the couple in a moment of serenity. Indeed, the grand duchess felt rather uncomfortable - as she glanced back at them, only to lock eyes and then - after an uncomfortable smile - turn away. Yet, Twasn't an uncommon occurrence...for - after all - the same had happened with her brother: the late Gdridg II.

Nonetheless...the procession came to a halt once they'd reached the cathedral. Its tan exterior - in the setting sun - was quite the image...the building itself, in Sara's mind, representing the beauty and sophistication of the Armenian state...and the diminishing light resembling - potentially - the end of an era. Perhaps it was the anxiousness...or perhaps, it was the never-ending worry for her brother - of whom laid dormant at the nearby hospital. Yet - nonetheless - she'd sucked it up, and went on.

At the doors stood two guardsmen...both of whom donned the typical attire. They - no doubt - embodied authority...something that Sara, despite growing up in such an environment, had never grown used to. She was - for a lack of a better word - pampered. She was the daughter of Armenia's most influential monarch, after all...and she - no doubt - deserved the best. The doors creaked open, and the guards - as per their training - remained completely silent. The grand duchess turned to Mikhail, gave a reassuring smile, and stepped inside.

Its interior was grandiose and lavishly decorated. The stone had been finely polished...and icons, banners, and other items were abound - all of which hung, straightly, on the walls. Stood atop the dais was Arkam Azadian, the confessor of the imperial family. His appearance was warm...as was his attitude. Truly - a paternalistic figure.

'This is it', she thought.

Mikhail enjoyed the smile from the grand duchess but it wouldn't last with his entrance into the cathedral

Mikhail gave a slightly audible nervous exhale, being almost visibly nervous as he took in the sight of the extremely lavish Cathedral and particularly Arkam Azadian.

For the first few times in his adult life, Mikhail felt at ease by the man in a nostalgic sense. A feeling that not even Mikhail's own Father, the Tsar of Uralia, could have ever done.

Mikhail straightens his posture slightly as he begins to walk towards the confessor of the Armenian Royal family, prepared to cleanse both himself and the grand duchess of all sin and to become pure before the marriage altar.

Twas time...

Mounting the dais with Mikhail...the two slowly approached Azadian, of whom maintained a calming, warm expression. He could feel that - no doubt - the otherwise introverted grand duchess was uncomfortable...be it from her sudden glances or the slight, yet somewhat noticeable, trembling. Yet, with all the anxiousness, he sensed an underlying bit of glee. Besides, who wouldn't be happy with an occasion such as this? And so - as they drew ever closer - the elderly priest revealed a tray of ornate rings...crafted by none-other than the Asatrian brothers...Armenia's finest jewelers.

Eventually...the trembling, along with the rapid glances, stopped. The grand duchess' grip eased - having been extremely tight during the procession...and, of course, once she'd ascended the grandiose dais. She - for a brief moment - realized that, really, all was alright. Amidst the crowd was a wave of reassuring smiles, not too dissimilar to the one she'd given Mikhail. At the forefront was her uncle, his laurel-covered uniform standing out amidst the wave of similarly-dressed attendees. His eyes were fixed on his niece...and were filled with, undoubtedly, a sense of uncertainty. Twas he who had arranged the marriage, after all. Yet, he maintained a calm and fixated composure - a small grin adorning his face.

Azadian had - rather quickly - blessed the rings...and placed them in both Sara's, and Mikhail's, right hands. As per tradition, he announced their bethronal to the congregation; and then proceeded to hand the rings to the couple. They were meant to exchange the rings thrice, thus symbolizing that, through all, their lives were intertwined forever...and that they - undoubtedly - were truly inseparable.

[Feudal Italia]

Emperor Lodovico had arrived by horse, accompanied by four soldiers dressed in national colors white and black. His guards waited outside as Emperor Lodovico entered the cathedral. He had taken seat in the Cathedral among the other foreign guests. He watched the ceremony with approval. Witnessing a man and a woman unite in holy matrimony will always be moving. While this does not mean much for the future of Italia, Emperor Lodovico does wish them the best of lives.

[World of Krieg]

Themistokles Archonis had arrived in the Harbinger's place, since the Harbinger couldn't make it. He had arrived in his armor which was his formal outfit, which he was always in. He watched the ceremony, simply waiting for it to be time to give gifts to the people involved. "It is truly beautiful, as expected." His gift was 2 bottles of the finest Imperial wine there was.

[Deutsch-Francia]

Among the guests present for the ceremony was one Ludwig IV, King of Bavaria, one of the more influential regions of Deutsch-Francia. Though the Kaiser himself could not attend, he had asked the aging king to go in his place. As he watched the ceremony, he remembered how it felt to see his own daughter marry the Kaiser, who at the time was simply the crown prince.

"May their marriage be a happy one." He thought.

[CONGOlese republic]

The Prime Minister of Congo, Bakaji Kashama was sent by the King Mwebu Kangu to be on behalf of him and the Kingdom. He had an especial burdern in his shoulders. He had just became the PM, and he never visited foreign countries. But he put all those negative thoughts and his nervousness behind and approached to the Limousine after a long 7 Hour 39 minute flight to Armenia. A guard would receive him. He felt very nervous but he tried to put those thoughts away. But, it was coming to his mind, he was thinking what will happen if he failed. Congolese people never bow down to anyone, and if he made a mistake, the whole Congo would be disrespected. But he remembered his father's valuable and evergreen words, “Fight till you die.” So he remembered these words and thought to be composed and be the best representative the foreigners have ever seen. He would arrive at the place, but he saw the marriage was almost complete, thats what the others were telling, he had never seen western and royal marriages. He would observe the couple, thinking about his late wife. But soon, he remembered the daughter of Mwebu Kangu. Mwebu Kangu was still young and his daughter, Jeena was just 15, but it was to be seen who she would marry with. Bakaji Kashama would start fantasying different types of brides. The one that would make him happy was a Royal man. After all, he wanted the best for his country, and a Royal man can gift him that.

[Staatza]

Among one of the Guests was Sir Edward Smith, a top ambassador from Staatza. He would bring several gifts, such as Staatzan Steak, a Highly prized Meat. And Staatzan Beer.

The Staatzan Ambassador would say that "this is a good time". The Place was Beautiful.

He would ask the Couple how they would like their Steak cooked, as Staatza has a variety of options. He had also brought a frying pan and Cooker.

[Corta]

Ferdinand Blanco and King Julian II arrive in the entrance to the church in a black, bulletproof Mercedes. After exiting the car, they walk on the decorated pathway towards the church and entered the tall brick building. They greet some people, and then walk to the duke and duchess.

"Hello, sir and ma'am. We are glad to attend your wedding," says the tough Caudillo, handing a special M1 Garand made out of koa wood to the husband.

"Agreed," remarked the handsome and young king, handing a diamond necklace to the bride.

[Trans-Uralia]

Mikhail enjoyed the smile from the grand duchess but it wouldn't last with his entrance into the cathedral

Mikhail gave a slightly audible nervous exhale, being almost visibly nervous as he took in the sight of the extremely lavish Cathedral and particularly Arkam Azadian.

For the first few times in his adult life, Mikhail felt at ease by the man in a nostalgic sense. A feeling that not even Mikhail's own Father, the Tsar of Uralia, could have ever done.

Mikhail straightens his posture slightly as he begins to walk towards the confessor of the Armenian Royal family, prepared to cleanse both himself and the grand duchess of all sin and to become pure before the marriage altar.

Twas time...

Mounting the dais with Mikhail...the two slowly approached Azadian, of whom maintained a calming, warm expression. He could feel that - no doubt - the otherwise introverted grand duchess was uncomfortable...be it from her sudden glances or the slight, yet somewhat noticeable, trembling. Yet, with all the anxiousness, he sensed an underlying bit of glee. Besides, who wouldn't be happy with an occasion such as this? And so - as they drew ever closer - the elderly priest revealed a tray of ornate rings...crafted by none-other than the Asatrian brothers...Armenia's finest jewelers.

Eventually...the trembling, along with the rapid glances, stopped. The grand duchess' grip eased - having been extremely tight during the procession...and, of course, once she'd ascended the grandiose dais. She - for a brief moment - realized that, really, all was alright. Amidst the crowd was a wave of reassuring smiles, not too dissimilar to the one she'd given Mikhail. At the forefront was her uncle, his laurel-covered uniform standing out amidst the wave of similarly-dressed attendees. His eyes were fixed on his niece...and were filled with, undoubtedly, a sense of uncertainty. Twas he who had arranged the marriage, after all. Yet, he maintained a calm and fixated composure - a small grin adorning his face.

Azadian had - rather quickly - blessed the rings...and placed them in both Sara's, and Mikhail's, right hands. As per tradition, he announced their bethronal to the congregation; and then proceeded to hand the rings to the couple. They were meant to exchange the rings thrice, thus symbolizing that, through all, their lives were intertwined forever...and that they - undoubtedly - were truly inseparable.

Mikhail took the first ring from Azadian, he does this with the grand duchess three times in the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, first from the groom to the bride, and then from the bride to the groom.

After exchanging and the blessing of the rings, Azadian places the rings on the fingers on the right hand of both Mikhail and the grand duchess.

Mikhail then exchanges the rings again with the grand duchess three times on the fingers of the grand duchess and himself.

Throughout the exchanging of the rings, the fear and nervousness from Mikhail's face had seemingly melted away into a reassured and calm smile, knowing that God had blessed them.

[Mets Hayk]

Twas time...

Mounting the dais with Mikhail...the two slowly approached Azadian, of whom maintained a calming, warm expression. He could feel that - no doubt - the otherwise introverted grand duchess was uncomfortable...be it from her sudden glances or the slight, yet somewhat noticeable, trembling. Yet, with all the anxiousness, he sensed an underlying bit of glee. Besides, who wouldn't be happy with an occasion such as this? And so - as they drew ever closer - the elderly priest revealed a tray of ornate rings...crafted by none-other than the Asatrian brothers...Armenia's finest jewelers.

Eventually...the trembling, along with the rapid glances, stopped. The grand duchess' grip eased - having been extremely tight during the procession...and, of course, once she'd ascended the grandiose dais. She - for a brief moment - realized that, really, all was alright. Amidst the crowd was a wave of reassuring smiles, not too dissimilar to the one she'd given Mikhail. At the forefront was her uncle, his laurel-covered uniform standing out amidst the wave of similarly-dressed attendees. His eyes were fixed on his niece...and were filled with, undoubtedly, a sense of uncertainty. Twas he who had arranged the marriage, after all. Yet, he maintained a calm and fixated composure - a small grin adorning his face.

Azadian had - rather quickly - blessed the rings...and placed them in both Sara's, and Mikhail's, right hands. As per tradition, he announced their bethronal to the congregation; and then proceeded to hand the rings to the couple. They were meant to exchange the rings thrice, thus symbolizing that, through all, their lives were intertwined forever...and that they - undoubtedly - were truly inseparable.

Mikhail took the first ring from Azadian, he does this with the grand duchess three times in the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, first from the groom to the bride, and then from the bride to the groom.

After exchanging and the blessing of the rings, Azadian places the rings on the fingers on the right hand of both Mikhail and the grand duchess.

Mikhail then exchanges the rings again with the grand duchess three times on the fingers of the grand duchess and himself.

Throughout the exchanging of the rings, the fear and nervousness from Mikhail's face had seemingly melted away into a reassured and calm smile, knowing that God had blessed them.

Twasn't over...not yet, anyways.

Once the exchanging of the rings had ended...Twas time for the vows: an integral part of the ceremony. The grand duchess knelt...and along came two aristocrats, both of whom donned attire barely discernable from the others...and - had it not been for their golden epaulettes, both topped with the monogram of the comatose sovereign - it would've been argued that they'd been identical. In their hands were the nuptial crowns - they too delicately crafted by the Asatrian brothers. Indeed, if one thing was certain - it was that they were paid a fortune. Nonetheless...Twasn't too much longer before - eventually - said crowns were being held over the couple's heads...awaiting to be placed.

Upon seeing the once nervous duke's expression turn into something more...calming - all of that deeply repressed anxiety whittled away. No longer was there a need for uncertainty...but, rather, there was an ever-present need for grace and glory...and this was quite the graceful, and glorious, ceremony after all. However...there was still a burning hole of want. Whereas her uncle and a vast majority of her family had been present...her father was not, for he laid in the crypt. It...bothered her, in a way...knowing that he - Armenia's finest - would not even get a single moment of relief. And to think that it'd only been a few months since the event!

In the crowd stood Sergey Akimov...a blank, expressionless look on his face. He'd known something...yet - as per his pledge the throne - he was inclined to keep it to himself.