Post by Griffin on May 17, 2011 14:19:55 GMT -5
Of Blood and Crown: Chapter One
Coronation. The day this great nation changes for another lifetime. Crown Prince Roland, first prince of the fresh royal line of Rousek, would today be crowned King. Roland stood at the far end of the large doors leading to the throne room while the preparations were made for him. By him stood his adviser and brother, Jasper. Roland was dressed in royal finery of a dark green. He bore a red half-cape marked with the family’s coat of arms and a red sash embroidered with silver thread spanned his thick chest. Jasper stood stoically in military formal wear of the same dark green, his numerous medals and ribbons resting nobly over his heart. At Jasper’s side dangled a straight sword.
“Nervous?” Jasper asked.
Roland scoffed. “Not at all.”
“I would be,” Jasper teased, resting against a wall. “Think about it. The most important people from three kingdoms are in there, waiting to see the new ruler, the one they’ll be putting all their blame on for every little problem for the next fifty years.”
Roland smiled, unfazed. “You wish. I’ll be dead within thirty.”
The doors at the far end of the hall creaked open, the sound echoing down the high hallway Roland was now to walk. He and his brother shared a glance, took a moment to ready themselves, and then took their positions on the dark green carpet leading to throne. The two stood side by side, stepping in rhythm to the light drum beat and the shrills of the trumpets playing in the throne room. Step by step the brothers advanced. Castlefolk and guardsmen had begun to line the walkway ahead, greeting Prince and Captain Rousek with a bow of the head or a curtsey. Roland smiled to see the people liking him. Naturally, a young prince was to be liked by his people. Still, he took both pleasure and pride in the smiles sent his way.
As he marched passed the large granite pillars and beneath the high ceilings of the castle, Roland felt the fleeting of butterflies in his stomach and took a deep breath to calm himself. Jasper let a small chuckle escape his lips. Roland gently elbowed his brother in the side and smiled. “No better man to have at my side,” he thought.
The two passed a long line of guards and full-time soldiers who saluted the Rousek brothers. Roland bowed his head lightly in response and Jasper saluted back to his fellow brothers-in-arms. The doorway was upon them. Stopping at the base of the small flight of stairs, the Royal Guards stationed there stomped a metal boot on the ground and crashed an arm against their iron chests. The brothers replied with a fist to their own chests. The Guards stepped aside and the brothers ascended the stairs to the throne room.
“Oh great God in heaven...” Roland thought.
The throne room was packed with nobility from what seemed like twenty kingdoms, all sporting high brow finery in every color in the rainbow and some that had to have been made up. The entire room was in fervent whispered conversation under the drums and trumpets. But on the last step of the staircase, the room hushed in an instant.
Joann Rousek stood from the throne in the center of the great room. “Come forward, my boys,” she said with a great smile adorning her fair face. Her sons marched forward, matching her glow, as she gently descended the small flight of stairs to the throne, her light blue gown barely grazing the floor. The family met at the base of the throne platform. From the side of the throne followed Father Myles who would preside over the coronation. He wore a simple white linen robe with designs in brown thread weaved throughout the fabric. In one hand he gripped a staff topped with a diamond shape, another smaller diamond inside of it: the symbol of the faith practiced by the family. Lastly, from the other side of throne, followed Roland’s sister, Ari, who wore a gown of light blue to match her mother. In front of her she held a dark green cushion, her late father’s crown resting atop it.
Joann spread her arms and smiled, “I thank you all for coming from miles away, traveling long hot days and bitter nights to witness and share in the crowning of the next king of Sellas, my son Roland. Like his father Cadien before him, Roland is a creative, bright, and philosophical man, envisioning a better future for his people through cooperation, trade, and long-lasting peace. For forty-five years, you, our neighbors have shown acceptance to the Rousek family and of the changes made throughout Sellas and we thank you. Today we hope you will continue that support as Roland Rousek takes up his father’s work in bettering the lives of Sellesians and of our neighbors. Despite the war that threatens some of your borders, we greatly respect that you have listened to the words of Cadien and stayed at peace with the East. Peace was his ideal. He had said, “Peace is the light that shines upon all and war is the storm that wipes the light away”. Perhaps in the days of Roland, the storm will finally settle...and the light will be restored to the world.”
The crowd applauded at Joann’s words, but she quickly quieted them with a raised hand. “But now is not the time to speak of calming the East. Today we usher in a new lifetime of peace. Roland, please kneel.”
Roland obeyed and sank to a knee. Joann stepped slightly to the side and Father Myles came forward. Resting the twin diamond figure on Roland’s right shoulder, he recited a prayer in a loud, booming voice. The crowd bowed their heads. Upon finishing, Myles stepped back and the whispers picked up again in excitement. Roland looked up to his bearded face a caught a wink from the Father. Roland smiled and Joann took center again. “Now, Ari, Jasper...” she began.
Ari stepped forward and stood by her mother. Jasper quietly drew his sword and handed it to Joann. All grew silent. All heads bowed. “Prince Roland, I, Joann Rousek, by the authority vested in me by the royal line of Rousek, in the presence of Father Myles, a servant of the Lord, witnessed by all present and the Lord himself,” the sword gently touched Roland’s shoulder, “I hereby name thee...”
The clanging of the sword on the stone floor was the first indication. Jasper was the first to look up and see the feathered end of an arrow peaking from Joann’s heart. Roland looked up. Ari looked up. Myles, the crowd, looked up. Men with swords and masks emerged from the crowd and approached the throne. Jasper grabbed his sword from the ground. Ari was stunned in fright. Roland shuddered at the blood that dripped onto his fingertips. He saw his mother’s body. A glimmer caught his eye. A man swinging a sword. He barely evaded. Everything was happening at once. He pulled a dagger from his boot and advanced on the masked man, thrusting the short blade into his chest. He crumpled. Joann. Ari. Another man advanced on him. Roland tried to evade the sword, but it caught his stomach. He did not respond and advanced, stabbing the man in the neck. He too crumpled.
Guards stormed in. The crowd was fleeing. Jasper was smeared in blood. The only masked men remaining were those who were dead. At the base of the throne was Ari, cowering, Father Myles, bleeding, and Joann, dead.
On the floor was the royal crown, glimmering, shining with blood.
