A month after my encounter with Mariana, a banquet was held in celebration of my birth and to officially welcome me into the Royal Family. Delegates from other kingdoms were sent an invitation and most of them attended. I’m not stupid. I knew why they came — to size things up and jump into whatever opportunities they could find. Some took the chance to introduce prospective wives to the King — who I mistook as a prince the first time. Too bad for them, the King didn’t even spare them a glance. The only women he entertained were this child’s mother, who was granted the title of Royal Consort a week after my birth, and Hara Licentia. I only attended the banquet for less than an hour and during that time, I was surrounded by a bunch of Royal Knights and high-level Inheritors to ensure my safety. [1]
It’s been months since that day and we are now on our way to the Temple of Kismet where I’ll be having my first evaluation. Every Bergamin, the members of Bergamota Religion, experience three evaluations in their entire life. The first evaluation is held a month after a child is born to ask for a Blessed Name. This is the equivalent of Christening in Christianity. Bergamota is the first and only religion ever created in this world. Its temples are created to worship Kismet and her five Immortal Children. The religion’s main temple was erected at the Amari Kingdom where the Holy Portal is located. Although the portal could no longer be used as a bridge to cross both mortal and immortal realms, it still helps the Keepers connect with the deities and vice versa. [1]
“May the benison of Kismet be with you, Vhar El Haluman!”
“Thank you for giving birth to our Saridayang, Royal Consort! May the benison of Kismet be with you!”
“Many blessings, Saridayang! We wish you a blessed life!”
“Long live Vhar El Haluman, Hwan Adrian! Long live the Royal Family!”
As the carriage we are in traverses the road, countless cheers and cries from the citizens are heard. I could hear the happiness in everyone’s voices; some followed the moving carriage while some stood still while waving Amari mini-flags. Petals are thrown at the road as the carriage moves, Royal Knights and high-level Inheritors ride horses as they surround us in a uniform manner. The whole way to the temple, no one caused any kind of trouble — a sign of respect from the citizens to their monarch.
This grandiose parade is both a sign and a statement that the Royal Family will become stronger and greater in the coming years. It is a silent declaration that the Amari Kingdom would rise back to its glorious past, announcing to everyone that we are not weak, never have been, and never would be.
My body unintentionally rocks as Consort Luna trembles due to nervousness. The King wraps his hand around her to console her. “Don’t worry, wife. Our Iris will do just fine.”
“I know, husband, but I just can’t calm myself. She was almost killed the day she was born but after today, she’d be targeted more. If she does well, our enemies will come after her but if she does not do well, she will be abandoned by our people.”
May I just add that these two lovebirds have gotten closer than ever this past month and now they are calling each other by endearments? It may not be in the “babe” level, but it’s still something. At first, the King never addressed Consort Luna by any names except “you” and “she” or “her,” but he now calls her wife. That’s something! Especially for a king.
“Nonsense. Who would dare abandon our child? I won’t let that happen. Let them try and see what awaits them.”
“I am serious, Your Royal Majesty!”
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“Aish, you’re getting worried for nothing, wife. I promise you that no matter the outcome, I will do my best to protect you and Iris,” he says, stressing the word “wife.”
The carriage slows down and the clopping of the horses stops. Someone knocks on the carriage door and informs the King that we have arrived at the gates of Bergamota Religion.
The High Oracle, wearing a long white robe, approaches us; his long, silver, braided hair is adorned with translucent pearls. His eyes glow golden the moment he touches Father’s forehead. “Adrian Benedictus of blood Gracia y Lazuli, Inheritor of Lupine, welcome to my home,” he says. His voice seems to be a mixture of seven different people — one of which is Mariana’s voice. He then touches the Consort’s forehead and greets her, too, as he did to the King.
The two bend their knees, the Consort bending hers lower than the King’s. “This blessed child thanks the High Oracle for uttering this child’s name. May the benison of Kismet be with you.”
The High Oracle only nods his head before going back inside the temple, and another Keeper steps up and addresses us. “Forgive me, Hwan Adrian, but we cannot let the others pass the gates of the temple. If you are worried about Saridayang’s safety, know that the temple is the safest place in the world. Weapons are forbidden and no one can use magic inside unless Kismet permits them to do so.” Father may be a king, but his position is nothing at Kismet’s Holy Place. It is stated in the Holy Book that everyone must be treated equally no matter what their position in society is, and Keepers honor that commandment.
King Adrian looks back. And the commander of the Royal Knights steps forward and stands at attention. “Stanislaus, do not block the temple’s gates and let others who seek the temple’s help inside,” he commanded the much older man.
“Hadidi, Vhar El Haluman,” Commander Stanislaus replies.
The Keeper, a lower-ranked Oracle, motions us inside. “I would trouble both of you to walk since no carriage is allowed inside the Holy Place.”
The two lovebirds nod and follow the Oracle. As Consort Luna carries me inside, I hear Commander Stanislaus instruct his subordinates to disperse and not to block the road.
Although it is stated in the Holy Book that everyone must be treated the same, the person who visited is still the king of the country, so the treatment would be different though not extravagant. Some Lesser Oracles and Oracles attend to us, standing on either side of the path leading to the Assessment Hall. Four Lesser Oracles are standing at the front of the line, wearing plain white dresses that reach below their knees adorned with colored belts that represent which deity they are serving. A piece of wood with the same color as their belt ties half of their long hair up, while the other half is let down. At the back of the line stand six Oracles, who are wearing white robes that reach the ground. The only difference between the two positions is that Oracles have seniority, and their pearl-adorned hairs are intricately tied with ribbons. No one greeted us verbally or bowed down when we passed by, though it was expected. What they are doing right now is already too much to be considered being treated “like everyone else.”
Once we reach the Assessment Hall, everyone else disperses except the High Oracle, standing on the platform waiting for us to arrive.
“Follow me,” he says. He leads us inside a room and instructs the two to purify before leaving the room.
The King removes his clothes and goes inside one of the stalls, while the Consort bathes me in one of the many basins available on the side of the room. After he is done, he puts on a white garment provided by the temple. He then takes me from the woman — who also walks inside the stall and purifies herself — and dresses me in a smaller garment similar to what he’s wearing. After we are all done, we exit the room and enter the middle of the Assessment Hall where a statue of a man is erected.
King Adrian hands me to the High Oracle, who then performs a ritual. He holds me using both of his hands and raises me in front of the statue, and proceeds to chant in an ancient language. The two also kneel on both knees and bow their heads as the eyes of the statue glow. I am placed on a high stone table wide enough for a two-year-old to lie down but still have enough space to move around.
I feel my soul getting pulled out of my body as the light from the statue’s eyes grows stronger and obstructs my sight. When I finally adjust to the blinding light, I see myself back at Mariana’s castle.