Lykourgos XIV: The Day of Crowned Ascent
The First Day of the First Moon, 874 AD.
Anaria, Western Teleytaios, Klironomea.
The day of his coronation was finally here. A year ago to this day he was supposed to take this ceremony, but things hadn't really worked out that way. He was fine with that though, for a year ago he'd have been king of only one kingdom, yet today he was to be made the King of Owkrestos, Teleytaios, and Triarios. Such a shift in geopolitics was unable to be missed by any, not even those in the backwater that was Dathan, and so he had needed to ensure that the occasion that was his coronation was one to remember for all. It would be expensive, yes, but this was to be an important propaganda piece for the earliest years of his reign.
It helped that he genuinely wanted his coronation to be something worth celebrating as well.
Of course, this wasn't only the day of his coronation. This was also the Day of Ascent, the holiest day in the calendar of the church, and thanks to his status being amongst the highest echelons of society he was expected to have spent eight hours in prayer, head bowed low as the scriptures were recited before him. He'd sat through the sermon of that day diligently, forgoing sleep that night and instead beginning his penitential prayers as soon as the day rolled over, being first led by the Archdeacon who oversaw the Westcoast Church and, when morning rolled around, Patriarch Olyver himself. Patriarch Olyver was a man with whom he was bound to have a complicated relationship, but on a day like today there was no room for petty grudges or politicking. The Day of Ascent was for mankind to give thanks to the First Saint for giving up his life to spread the truth, and to endure penance for the complicity of ones forefathers in his death.
He'd entered the church just before midnight, as he'd let the patriarch know he would, and so an elderly man who identified himself as 'Archdeacon Wylde' was ready to receive him and lead him in prayer. Lykourgos had thanked the man for his piety even at such a late hour, his willingness to help shepherd his soul, and the man had just smiled kindly, waited for the bells to signal the beginning of the Day of Ascent, and had begun his sermon.
Somewhere around five hours in the darkness had broken as the sun began to peek over the horizon, and an hour after that the Archdeacon had been replaced by Patriarch Olyver, though Lykourgos daren't raise his head from its bowed position to watch them swap over. More people began to filter in, some richer, some poorer, some guards and some vagabonds. Today it mattered not who they were, not when they were in here. There were likely a great many people gawking at him in there, for how many could say they'd been in the same room as their monarch before? He knew they were likely staring, and could feel the eyes flick over to him when people thought the patriarch wouldn't notice. He had been popular here as a youth, had been known by the downtrodden most of his life, and now he was back with them once again. Whether the patriarch did notice the attention received or not he said nothing, simply continuing to lead the congregation in prayer.
Both Archdeacon Wylde and Patriarch Olyver had been good orators in their sermons, the Archdeacon's tone being that of a kindly and elderly man, filled with warmth and understanding, whereas the Patriarch's had been stern and paternal, almost dark at times. They had both been good orators, and it was clear to see why Patriarch Olyver had risen to the top of the Conclave of Patriarchs, but Lykourgos still found himself wishing that it could have been Nasos and Dreamwulf ministering to his spiritual needs. Still, he needed to show deference to the church when it came to matters of piety, and so that's what he would do.
He felt exhausted by the end of that eight hours, despite the fact he hadn't really done anything. His thoughts were constantly racing thanks to the silence and the time he was spending doing nothing, but every time that happened he did his best to try and keep his mind clear. There would be plenty of time in the coming months for planning and thought, but right now he needed to be calm, collected, and most of all present. The Day of Ascent was important, it was the one day a year that everyone came together and actually paid attention to the sermons being given as though their lives depended on it. Some believed that he was impious, and whilst his brother had killed a Patriarch and yes, Lykourgos had blackmailed another, he wouldn't consider himself 'impious'. He cared deeply for the faith, and for the scriptures for that matter, but he didn't much care for the church itself. The church was, after all, composed of men.
And men were nothing if not corruptible.
Still, he couldn't rest. Today was the day of his coronation after all, and he needed to make sure that everything was ready. There were some things you just couldn't trust a churchman to see to after all, and a party was certainly one of those things.
He'd heard rumours from Dathan, right on the other side of the continent, that a truly extreme section of the New-Church had taken root and was killing those who didn't support such practices. He hoped that tonight, around the banquet that was to be held in one of the great royal halls of this palace, there would be an agreement reached by some of the delegates from those kingdoms and republics that surrounded Aegos with regards to an intervention. Hell, he was pretty sure that even the Imperator of the self-styled 'Imperatorship of Aegos' had sent a delegate to attend this feast, so he'd be surprised if that delegate didn't try to drum up some support in favour of the Imperator amongst the Kortherans.
He was excited for tonight, he had to admit. Men and women of power and influence from all over the world had gathered here, in the walls of his palace, to pay their respects to him. No one else. Angels, if only Lord Brathaxe could see me now.
There was one figure who he had been informed was attending who he was very excited to meet. He hadn't seen them yet since they'd only just arrived, but tonight would be the first time around two years that he'd seen Prince Alekos Virgilos. Well, he supposed it was actually a little under one year if he counted the time that Alekos had visited him whilst he was in a comatose state, but Lykourgos didn't think that really counted.
Thinking on the delegations led him to consider just how far away some of these people had come from, and just how many people would have enemies enter into the same room. He'd have to ensure that there were a few guards to keep the peace around the room, probably knights since a hall lined with grim-faced armsmen would probably give off the wrong idea, but then Romanos had likely already thought of that. Elikoidi was likely having either a field day with the amount of blackmail materiel he'd soon come into possession of as drinks loosened the tongues of their guests, or was likely in the midst of a fit trying to work out how to ensure nobody got stabbed in their chambers by assassins hired by hated enemies.
And of course, though none in his retinue would admit this out loud, they were keen to ensure that all there was no repeat of least year. The scars would likely never fade from his body, but at the very least his friends would make sure that none more were needlessly added.
The work of a monarch was grim, he understood that now more than he ever had, but tonight he was going to make sure everyone had a night to remember.
----------------------------------------
Rhema stood to the left of his throne, axe in hand and an expression of pure concentration and vigilance as he stared out over the crowd. His brother seemed adamant that nothing, nothing, was allowed to go wrong today. It was most kind of him, and in truth it was rather amusing to watch the sons of Lord Sigiros match his gaze with only a hint of unease as opposed to the anxiety most displayed when his brother cast his gaze over them. Maybe Rhema had finally met his match?
"With the authority vested in my by the Church of the First Saint, blessed by both branches of the congregation as well as the Churches of Anawroth, Agia Harald, Aenethar, and Hydran, I crown you King of Owkrestos, Teleytaios, and Triarios, the Violet Prince, Defender of the Faith, and Protector of the Realm."
As the crown was lowered onto his head he couldn't help but look at the Patriarch in surprise as a series of gasps came from around the room. The rest of the titles he'd expected and he'd asked that his epithets be left out of the coronation save only his beloved title as the 'Violet Prince', but 'Defender of the Faith' was a title he'd not expected to have been given. It was supposed to be reserved for one particularly pious leader at a time, and though the last one had been named some thirty years ago Lykourgos hadn't expected the church to put quite so much faith in him, especially not from Patriarch Olyver of all people.
The holy man smiled conspiratorially down on him, likely pleased with the knowledge that there was no way in hell Lykourgos would be able to hang any blackmail over his head anymore, and Lykourgos grinned back. Being named defender of the faith wouldn't mean that every clergyman the world over would kneel to him, but it would certainly make his dealings with them more likely to produce the desired results.
The crown sat atop his head for a moment, a beautiful and yet simple band of engraved gold, and Lykourgos stood from his throne. With sword in hand he raised an arm out over the assembled crowd, and almost as one they knelt. Some in submission, some in respect, but all knelt.
"Long may he reign." The patriarch finished.
The crowd answered back, some in tones of reverence and some joyful. A few seemed less enthused, but by and large people seemed happy for his ascension.
"Long may he reign!"
Now that was a sweet, sweet sound.
----------------------------------------
"Your Grace, my congratulations on your coronation."
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
Lykourgos couldn't stop the smile that formed on his face nor the quickening of his heart at hearing that voice, a voice he hadn't heard in quite some time, approaching behind him.
"Your Grace. It is good to see you, King Alekos."
His first ever friend, confidant, and... well, someone he was extremely close to, smiled back at him.
"Might I just say," Alekos grinned as he leaned in closer to whisper surreptitiously to Lykourgos, "I thought you looked ravishing upon the throne."
"I hate to disappoint you in that case," he replied, ignoring the strange sensation that passed over his skin as Alekos whispered to him, "but I won't be spending much time sat on the throne."
"I thought as much. I think you and I will be meeting each other sooner than we think, though next time I believe that you will be coming to me."
"At the head of an army, I imagine."
Alekos stepped away, still smiling, and gave him an exaggerated shudder.
"Oh, one trembles at the thought. Come then, take your place at the dais. I'll sit besides you and we can catch up with each other for a bit."
"Not quite yet. I believe you've forgotten about the pre-banquet dance?"
Alekos actually flushed a little at that, which Lykourgos found more than a little amusing.
"Lyk, when people see that you've given me the first dance they'll..."
"They'll what, Alekos? Talk?"
"Yes!" His... partner replied. The two of them had been... they'd been in an understanding as far as their relationship was concerned, but Lykourgos hadn't seen him in person since they'd agreed to... to be with each other. Even now he felt strangely unable to say what exactly they were to each other, even in his own head. He suspected the fact that his own thoughts weren't private now had something to do with that, but that was besides the point. Either way, when it came to saying something that only just skirted around the point he felt strangely adept. "Yes, Lyk, they'll talk! The first dance of the night is... it's important, Lyk. You and I both know that."
Lykourgos smiled at just how flushed Alekos was as he took the Polaeran's hand in his own.
"Let them talk. It's my coronation, and I'll dance with whomever I damn well please. Now come," he continued in a slightly louder voice to ensure those around them could hear, "indulge me in this dance, your Grace."
"Your Grace," Alekos smiled, "It would be my greatest pleasure."
Lykourgos smiled as Alekos led him in dance. It was a slow dance, not romantic but nothing like the fast-paced tunes that would be playing later when everyone was deep in their cups. Lykourgos wasn't the best dancer, but he'd learned enough when he was younger. Strangely enough the amount of combat training he'd done also came in handy here, for it meant that he was fast on his feet and relatively quick to correct for any mistakes. Alekos grinned at him as the song came to a close, his voice quiet enough that none else could hear but not a whisper either.
"You know, I could spend all night alongside you."
Lykourgos did his best to keep the grin from his face when he spoke, but it was a losing battle.
"There'll be plenty of that later, dear. For now there are a great many people who wish to speak with me, and who likely won't be pleased if you completely monopolise my time. I can't even give you the seat next to me on the grounds of seniority, since you're one of six heads of state here not counting myself. The door to my chambers will be open to you however later, and you're more than free to catch up with me properly then."
Alekos gave him a wolfish grin before turning to mingle with the crowds, emerald eyes seeming to flash as they caught the light.
"Then I look forwards to the afterparty, your Grace. Enjoy the banquet, and I'll see you tonight."
Elikoidi didn't even bother to disguise the snicker to his right, whilst somewhere behind him he could almost hear Rhema scowling.
"He certainly seems less timid than I remember."
Lykourgos smiled, still looking off at where Alekos had disappeared into the crowd.
"He might not have much of a stomach for violence or drink, but his time spent travelling the world has made him rather gregarious. He's right at home in these crowds. More than I am anyway."
"Another socialite. Just what Klironomea needs."
He snorted a little at his brother's words, making the decision to unpack Rhema's apparent distaste for Alekos at another time. This was to be a night of revelry and merriment, and whilst he knew that his brother hated gatherings like this he'd made it clear that, at any point and for any reason, he was free to come and go as he pleased. He would be more than willing to cover for his brother, not that anyone here would surely be stupid enough to try and tell Lykourgos that his brother shouldn't be allowed to leave. He doubted Rhema would leave, however; Lykourgos knew that his brother wanted to be here for his big day, he wanted to be a part of it and to help make it great. That was one of the reasons Lykourgos loved his brother; impulsive he may have been, but he was one of the best people the newly-coronated king could possibly have hoped to call his brother.
He... a part of him wished his sister could have been here to see this, even now, but she was long gone. Hopefully her ascent to the heavens would have stripped her of her hatred, but he was not one to pretend to understand the ways of the Angels above.
As more and more guests and dignitaries took their seats in the hall he made sure that Rhema was sat to his right. It was meant as a clear signal to the guests in attendance that, no matter the conflict of the year before last, Rhema was nothing less than his right-hand-man. The seat to his left was... that was a harder one to fill. He couldn't fill it with clergymen, for this was a secular event and the clergy were not permitted to attend under church law. An exception had been made for the representative of the Most Devout Church of Aegos since to have barred the Aegan delegate would have been a snub, though they were only permitted to attend on the grounds that they did so in a secular role, not a religious one. The man had looked almost relieved at that. Anyway, he couldn't fill it with a clergyman, and he had no interest in having some pampered noble or royal that, unbeknownst to them, would likely find themselves at war with him in the coming years.
Eventually the position had been filled by the newly minted Grand Duke, Thrytas Sigiros. The lands of old Triarios were all but pacified now, and so both of the man's sons were in attendance alongside him. They'd taken their positions at the table with the other delegates of import, but their father was sat by his side. By their king's side.
Angels, that felt good to finally be able to say. He was a king, and nothing less.
That was the truth of it. Looking out over the sea of delegates as the first course of food and drink arrived he smiled in satisfaction. The feeling was quickly repressed, for his work was not yet done and there was still so much to do before he could feel accomplished, but for a brief moment he basked in the fact that he was already unique amongst all those kings that had come before him since the days of the old Kingdom of Klironomea. He'd successfully conquered one of his neighbouring kingdoms and, with ale and words and lamb, another had joined the fold underneath him. That made three out of seven. The remainders were either small, isolated, or weak. They would fall one after the other until he stood atop all of Klironomea as its king, its sole reigning monarch. That was the future that was laid before him, and though tonight was to be a brief respite from the woes and the hardships of the world for all who were permitted in this room, he couldn't quite force down a smile as the first of the toasts to his health was made. He'd have to give a speech at some point later, but for now he was content to simply nod his grateful acknowledgements to the man who'd called the toast, some Licoteman lord or something, or maybe a Kortheran. He didn't know him by name or station, for he couldn't see any coat of arms or symbols on his clothes that suggested a particular house. Nonetheless, the fact that so many people of import had come from so far was gratifying by itself.
Amongst those who had come here there was the Malikah of the Al-Alema, a few of her retainers in tow, one of whom had been rebuked by the Malikah after commenting on how tired Lykourgos must have been after observing the Klironomean 'queer custom of worship'. The comment hadn't been made in bad faith, so he'd simply explained its importance to the handmaiden and moved on with his day. The King of Polaeros was here as well of course, as were Prince Mathias of Licotemos who had travelled here from Sygomidopolis with his sister, the Princess Iona, who both seemed to be just as well-read as he remembered them being and thankfully far from as arrogant as their father and eldest brother. Lastly amongst the most 'notable' of the guests was that of, rather distastefully, a Sotenari Octarch. The Octarchs held power only in name these days, but Lykourgos still didn't like having a man so heavily involved in the sale of people as though they were chattel at his coronation. It left a bad taste in his mouth.
Of course the ex-kings of Owkrestos and Triarios were in attendance, one in a position of much higher status than the other, but all things considered their attendance was more a showcase of his power for the other rulers amongst the crowd. These two had once worn crowns and now knelt at his feet, so who was to say they wouldn't join the two of them in kneeling one day?
Strangely enough out of all the delegates who had arrived, not counting King Alekos of course because that was just a whole different mess to untangle in his head, the Malikah of the Al-Alema had been the most interesting to talk to. Their peoples had warred on-and-off with great regularity over the centuries since the Alemans had arrived in Kliskorios, with both aggressors and heroes on both sides as they'd been able to agree, but neither of them were keen to repeat the mistakes of their forefathers. Yes, they worshipped different deities and had some very different views on the world where philosophy was concerned, but they were both open-minded enough to have gotten on quite well these last few weeks. The two of them had engaged in conversation quite a bit since she'd arrived in Anaria, trading different opinions and viewpoints on events and the world in a non-argumentative and instead really rather friendly manner. There was still too much difference for an alliance to be considered, especially given the backlash back home from their respective religious organisations, but at the very least a pact of non-aggression seemed like it might be on the table. Something to discuss tonight, perhaps?
Outside these walls there were people from all over Teleytaios that had travelled here to finally see him sat on the throne, and he had made damn sure that they'd be entertained. Beef, goat, pork, and fish had all been procured in truly great quantities for the vast crowds to consume for a fraction of what they'd normally cost, as were a variety of beers, ales, and wines. This was to be a celebration not just for him, but for all those who had worked, bled, fought, and died to see him where he was now. They had died for him, and in the wars to come more of them would die for him. He didn't like that fact, but it was an unchangeable part of the path he was on. The very least he could do would be to ensure that they could celebrate alongside him.
To that end similar celebrations had been organised in Stagspring and Stratiopolis, as well as the other newly-decreed cities of Aenirhen, Brycgestow, and Haestinghen, though he doubted the crowds there would be as enthused with his rule save only the people of Aenirhen. Still, hopefully the promise of cheap food and drink for all would raise their spirits if only for a night; he was their king too, and as their king he wished them nothing but the best he could give them.
From this day until he died, he would never do anything less.
He danced with a good number of the delegates that night, not the least of which being the Malikah, two of her handmaidens, Princess Iona, and Prince Mathias, but none of them could hold a candle to the first dance he'd had that night. Alekos was... he was perfect. Perfect in a way that Lykourgos couldn't put into words, perfect in a way that left him disarmed and more nervous than any battle had ever made him. Tonight was, for reasons of state and of the heart, to be a night remembered the world over for years to come.
Yes, he thought to himself as he stood to make his speech, tonight will be a night to remember. For all of them, yes, but especially for me.
He was the king of three kingdoms, the forger of one of the first truly modern states on the continent, and his name was all but assured to echo throughout history. Most men would have been satisfied to rest on their laurels and play it cautious for the rest of their reign.
Lykourgos was not most men. His work was yet to be done. Duty called to him still. He could enjoy tonight as much as he wished, but one thought rang true in his mind. It wasn't pleasant, for his duty was very rarely pleasant, but it rang through his mind nonetheless.
He would be knee-deep in gore once more in three months time.