Anala was about to turn around in her seat again to look at the front of the room, but a glinting of light in the back shadows of the hall caught her eye. Looking more carefully, she noticed a man she didn't recognise standing in the corner. He was dressed in the Atherian fashion but there was something strange on his belt. It took Anala a moment to realise it was a pistol like the one Lares carried.
Her heart skipped a beat. What was a Vocan doing here? No doubt an envoy from Lord Exsil Vis, and no doubt regarding the message that Anala had carried across the water to the island. What if he were here to kidnap her and take her back? Quickly she looked forward again. I best not to be seen. If he wanted to kidnap her, well -- let him try. She'd die first before going back there.
She tried to calm herself, but her breathing came fast and her palms were sweaty. She wiped them on her peplos nervously and tried to take deep, calming breaths.
"Anala," came a voice, directly beside her left ear, and she jumped, her heart hammering in her ribcage. "What's wrong?" she looked up into Aro's face, and saw worry in his eyes.
"There'd be a Vocan in tha back of tha hall. Don't look!" she hissed when he turned to see what she meant. "E'll see ye. Just trust me, e's there."
"And it's not Lares."
"Nae. Lares'd be sitting behind the regiments, ye ken, by Ghia."
Aro sighed and adjusted his seat. "What are we going to do?"
"Not a damned thing. We cannae do anything until we know why e's here. Jes...keep yer sword ready." She fingered her own sword, buckled over the court peplos she had to wear.
"May not be effective against his sidearm," Aro said, grim resignation in his voice.
"I ken." They spoke no more of the matter.
~
At 1830 everyone was settled, and the Mother Superior of the Temple stepped in to say the opening prayer. Although Anala was not particularly religious, even she felt a swelling in her heart as the woman's clear voice rang out, awed by the beauty of the language.
She was glad her head was bowed, so no one could see the emotion on her face. At the conclusion of the prayer everyone looked up again and the dithyramb was started, the traditional singing to ask the goddesses to be present and bless the occasion. It was sung by a chorus of priestesses, and the sweet chords echoed in the high-ceilinged room. If the goddesses existed, there was no way They could ignore such a song.
Then Zanny and Zardria were led in, the Empreena in a peplos of the deepest royal blue with a black velvet trim. She wore the traditional veil, dyed blue, which, when lifted, would signify her awakening into womanhood and acceptance of the responsibilities of ruler. Zanny looked small and fragile next to her niece, and she was clothed in a peplos of white, the colour of mourning -- also traditional, to signify the death of her leadership and the birth of a new one. Anala felt sure, watching the Empress's face, that Zanny knew as well as anyone that the death of her rulership was not the only one she would suffer. The bellica felt a small twinge of pity for the woman, but ruthlessly pushed it aside. I cannae be wasting me energy on one who'll so soon be dead, and is in no position to beg for mercy besides. Weakness or no, Zanny had allowed her country to fall into ruin since her sister's death, committing deeds that doubtless made this age memorable as a dark one by the historians.
The High Priestess led aunt and niece to a spot just before the throne. Another priestess handed her a bowl of water. She bid the royals kneel, facing each other, and she set the water between them.
Zardria lifted back the veil as the High Priestess anointed their foreheads with the water and said a blessing in a language -- or several different languages -- that Anala didn't recognise. Regardless, she understood that what was happening was the Blessing of the Elements, and next would come air, earth, fire, and aether.
Sure enough, another priestess came forward with a censer, which she waved so the smoke enveloped Zanny and Zardria, and the High Priestess said another prayer in that strange language or languages. A bowl of sacred earth was given to the High Priestess and she rubbed some dirt on each woman's face; a bowl of sacred fire was brought, and Empress and Empreena bathed their faces in the heat of the flame.
There was no physical representation of aether, so the High Priestess supplicated to the Heavens with her prayer, and Zanny and Zardria looked up, waiting for the blessing from the stars.
After a period of time they apparently received it, for the High Priestess stood and spoke to the two women. "You have been anointed and purified by the Elements in the name of the Goddesses Whom you serve. All that shall take place now shall be done in service to Them and Their children. Are you prepared to serve, Empreena Zardria?"
"Yes, I am," Zardria said, her voice loud and clear.
"Empress Zanny, are you prepared to pass on the Sceptre, and to support your heir as she takes her first steps in leading her reiaume?"
"I -- I am," Zanny stuttered, her voice shaking. Anala was close enough to see the perspiration shine on the woman's face and the small shudders her body made as she tried to hold back her fear. Another twinge of pity twisted the bellica's heart.
"So be it. I take this crown of purest silver from your head, O Empress, and place it upon the head of your heir. May it bring her wisdom, and forever remind her of the weight she bears in service of her people." The High Priestess took the coronet and placed it upon Zardria's head.
Zardria bowed her head in acceptance as the crown was fitted on her. "I accept the crown of purest silver, may it bring me wisdom and remind me of my service to my people," she intoned gracefully, though Anala could have sworn there was a hint of mockery in the tone. Zanny looked smaller, as if the crown had been giving her most of her form and substance. The High Priestess continued and, dreamlike, the Empress raised her left hand for the next part.
"I take this signet ring of purest copper from your hand, O Empress, and place it upon the finger of your heir. May it bring strength and justice to her, that she may rule with a firm and righteous hand." The High Priestess slid the ring onto Zardria's left ring finger.
"I accept this signet ring of purest copper, that it may bring me strength and justice so I might rule firmly and righteously."
Anala felt herself holding her breath as the next part came -- the coronet and ring were just trappings, just pretty things the Queen -- Empress could wear. The Sceptre held the real power in Athering. It had been the Queen's symbol of rule for several thousand years and its symbolism was firmly ingrained in the people's consciousness. Regardless her obvious puppeteering of her aunt for the past dark age, this was the moment Zardria would truly become ruler of all they knew.
Zanny raised up the Sceptre to the High Priestess and the final step of the Investiture began. "I take this Sceptre of purest gold from you, O Empress, and place it in the arms of your heir, that it may remind her that mercy is the better part of valour, compassion the better part of strength, and that these qualities are never strained."
"I accept this Sceptre of purest gold to remind me that mercy and compassion are the better parts of valour and strength, neither being strained by their own weight."
"Rise, Empress Zardria, and rise, Zanny deZora." As one the two women stood, Zanny looking half the size she had been upon entering, and Zardria suddenly a great, terrifying, dangerous majesty. Zanny moved off to the side quietly, and Zardria faced the High Priestess, her very movements regal.
"Do you, Empress Zardria, promise to serve and protect your people to the best of your ability?"
"I do."
"Then place your hand upon the Book of Aradia and repeat after me." She held out an old, large copy of the sacred book, and Zardria placed her left hand upon it solemnly. "I, Empress Zardria --"
"I, Empress Zardria --"
"Do affirm and avow --"
"Do affirm and avow --"
"That I will serve the people of Athering --"
"That I will serve the people of Athering --"
"In my capacity as Empress --"
"In
my capacity as Empress --"
"Come war, famine, flood or pestilence --"
"Come war, famine, flood or pestilence --"
"With the will of the goddesses --"
"With the will of the goddesses --"
"For as long as I shall live --"
"For as long as I shall live --"
"Or until such time --"
"Or until such time --"
"As my duties may terminate --"
"As my duties may terminate --"
"In favor of my heir --"
"In favor of my heir --"
"And that even through graceful retirement --"
"And that even through graceful retirement --"
"I shall follow this same vow --"
"I shall follow this same vow --"
"And always keep my country --"
"And always keep my country --"
"My people --"
"My people --"
"And the goddesses --"
"And the goddesses --"
"In mind with every thought, word, and action."
"In mind with every thought, word, and action."
"Upon the Scriptures, the most Holy Book of Aradia, I so swear it, and may Juno strike me down now should I be telling a falsehood."
"Upon the Scriptures, the most Holy Book of Aradia, I so swear it, and may Juno strike me down now should I be telling a falsehood."
Zardria removed her hand from the book then, and the High Priestess bowed to her. "You are officially Empress, Zardria deZameera." She moved back and gestured to the throne. "If you take your seat, the Pledges may begin."
Anala settled into her seat more comfortably, as this was the long boring part that would take a while. Across the aisle, Lady Subverra of Atherton arose and came to kneel in front of the throne, her hand on her heart.
"As Lady, I pledge that all my decisions and rulings will be made in accordance with your rule, my tithes will be made with appropriate good faith, and that I will adhere to the wills of the goddesses as you so deem them."
Zardria nodded beatifically, a small smile on her face, and responded with the traditional "So be your word true, under pain of death should you falter," reminding everyone just what serious business it was to run this country. So on the Pledges went, though every single lady, duchess, and eorl.
Anala sat up a bit straighter as it got to the end of the nobility, for it would soon be her turn. Though truth be told she'd rather be run through with her own sword than get up there and speak in front of everyone -- but this was a matter in which she'd had no choice. Majors couldn't take the oath for their bellicas. She watched Yarrow walk up, an image of grace in her mother's black peplos, draw her sword, and Pledge herself. It was over in what seemed less than an instant to Anala, and next thing she knew her feet were taking her to stand before the throne. She drew her sword, knelt, and held the tip of the blade to her heart, hilt towards the Empress and within grabbing reach. It was an exercise in trust.
"As Bellica," she said, nervousness making her voice shake, "I'd be pledgin' me sword --" she broke off as she heard the laughter ripple throughout the room at the sound of her accent. Her face flamed in embarrassment and she was unable to continue speaking.
"Quiet!" came a deep, booming voice, and Anala looked up to see Zardria glaring at the congregation. Then, in the almost eerie silence that followed her command, she turned to Anala and her face softened. "Go on," she said in a tone almost gentle.
Putting aside her confusion at Zardria's uncharacteristic compassion, she bowed her head again and found her place back in the oath. "I'd be pledgin' me sword in tha defense o' yer life and ta the safety o' yer land and people, Yer Majesty."
Zardria took Anala's sword by the hilt then and touched the flat end of the blade to Anala's left shoulder, then over her head to the right, and then back to the left again. "Your pledge is as good as blood. Arise, Bellica Anala," she said, turning the hilt towards Anala again, "so you may better serve your Empress." Anala shakily got to her feet, bowed, and took her sword back.
"Thank ye, yer Majesty," she said, and somehow her voice was steady though she didn't know how, and she sheathed the blade and walked back to her seat, head held high as she could make it as she refused to meet anyone's gaze. When she reached her chair it took all her remaining will to sit gracefully and not collapse into it shaking. Aro grabbed her hand and squeezed it; when she managed to look up at him he gave her a smile and mouthed words of encouragement at her.
"You done good, kid."
She returned his smile weakly and tried to relax herself for the remainder of the ceremony.
She didn't notice with any great clarity the rest of the twenty regiments' bellicas making their pledges, and it was only the barest buzzing in her mind that signalled her awareness that the professionals would be making their pledges. She watched without great interest beyond wishing to get out of there, when with a start, the shock of recognition went through her weary brain as her eyes registered the flaming red hair over the dark green peplos.
What in Tyvian'd be Ghia' up there fer?
Zardria apparently wondered the same thing, for she asked where Head Healer Helene was.
Ghia curtsied prettily and bobbed her head nervously. "Apologies, your Majesty -- Helene is still recovering from the fever and is not well enough to leave her bed. She has sent me in her place, as her heir."
Zardria leaned back in her throne, still frowning, and nodded. "Proceed."
Ghia curtsied again and then knelt before Zardria, placing her hand on her heart. "As Head of the Guild of Healers in Athering, I pledge my abilities to the task of keeping your body and the body of your reiaume healthy and safe -- no matter the illness or injury, I shall never falter in my sworn duty to my Empress and to the people of Athering."
Zardria nodded again and said the traditional response, and Ghia rose and strode back down the aisle, returning to her seat. Anala looked over her shoulder to watch the healer go and saw Jules, sitting behind Yarrow, staring after Ghia with some intense emotion in his eyes. His head swivelled to follow her progress down the aisle until she was obscured from view.
Anala wondered if he could be any more obvious. Or if Ghia could be any more oblivious.
Turning to the front, she saw the Mother Superior was in front of Zardria, hand on the Book. It was the last pledge.
"I duly swear to uphold the Teachings of the Aradian Order, to maintain law and goddessliness in this land, and to be available as a spiritual advisor to Empress and people for as long as I shall live."
"In the name of Aradia, so be it," Zardria said, and tapped her Sceptre three times against the throne.
It was done.
She was fully Invested.
The High Priestess came to Zardria's side then, to bring about the final step in the Ceremony: the choosing of Consort and subsequent pledges of loyalty to him.
"If your Majesty has not decided on a suitable candidate, this part can be put off till later," the High Priestess was saying, but Zardria cut her off with a sharp movement of her hand.
"I am ready to make my decision," she said, and the High Priestess nodded, bowing to Zardria's will. Zardria stood, then, and faced her people with a regal air she'd never possessed before that day. Her eyes shifted over the crowd, but Anala had no doubt the Empress had made this decision months in advance and the "looking for him" was just for show. Her eyes moved from nobles to military officers and hovered on Aro for long enough to make Anala seize up in fear, and the bellica realised she still stupidly held his hand but couldn't make herself let go. Zardria's eyes moved away after a moment, and Anala breathed a sigh of short-lived relief.
"Major Caelum! Do you accept the honour of Consort?" the Empress said, and her voice echoed in the silence that had fallen.
Had Anala been drinking anything she would have spit across the floor. Looking around, she waited for the walls to blur and run together, signifying the end of this bad dream. The stone and wood stayed terrifyin
gly solid, and she watched Caelum rise and stand before Zardria, to whom he bowed. "I do, your Majesty."
"And you understand the duties and privileges this position entails, and you swear to faithfully execute them such as they are?"
Anala couldn't hear what Caelum said, her head was buzzing so loud. She looked over at Yarrow, who sat stock still. The older bellica's face held such heartache, such pleading disbelief on it, that Anala wanted to hold her friend and tell her everything would be alright.
She looked to Aro, whose face held the same incredulity she felt, and wondered if anyone had seen this coming. Then she looked at Caelum, who was saying his oaths with perfect clarity and accepting the Consort's ring, and saw no surprise on his face -- only a dark determination, mingled with other unidentifiable emotions. He'd known. He'd known for a while now -- she could see that. And he dinnae tell Yarrow?
Anger flooded her at this betrayal of her best friend. How could 'e? Unless 'e's sided wit' Zardria all along. Cold realisation came crashing down on her. Of course. Even with their romantic liaison there had been some issue of trust between Yarrow and Caelum, some rift that could not be mended. Anala wondered now if it was because Yarrow knew, on some level, that he'd been playing them all along.
Oh, they were royally fecked now. They'd be lucky to make it through the day alive.
"Bellicas!" Zardria shouted, and Anala jumped in her seat, and then to her feet as she saw the others do so. "Do you pledge your loyalty and keep your promise to me to Consort Caelum as well?"
"We swear it!" the bellicas shouted, more or less as one, and Zardria moved on to the Guild professionals.
As Anala took her seat again, she silently pledged something entirely different, directing all her hate and anger on Consort Caelum: I promise, ye mangy cur, that afore this all ends I'll stand above ye prone form, me sword drippin' yer blood.
Jules
Jules could feel the shock reverberate through the woman sitting in front of him as palpably as if he'd been hit in the face with a shovel.
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