Book 1: Chapter 42 - The Royal Court [Part 2]
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“Your presence is acknowledged and welcomed within the hallowed halls of this Royal Court, Lady Seraphina de Sariens,” Eloise intoned, doing her best to deepen her voice.
“It is my solemn honor to appear before you, Your Most Gracious Majesty,” Seraphina replied, inclining her head. “I come as an emissary of the Duchy of Sariens, entrusted by my noble lineage to renew our vows of fealty and reaffirm our steadfast loyalty to the Crown and its righteous dominion.”
Eloise coughed, really getting into the role as her voice grew stern. “I note that you stand alone, Lady Seraphina. Tell me, what has become of your esteemed father, Lord Anatoli, and Lady Anaselena? Have they withheld their presence in this courtly assembly?”
“It grieves me, Your Majesty, to report that they are engaged in critical duties within our borders,” Seraphina explained, her voice strong yet respectful. “A grave blight afflicts our lands. Foreigners, hailing from beyond the Empire’s edges, have trespassed upon your sacred realm, bringing with them banditry, unrest, and the silent whisper of corruption. They stain our fair fields and woods and threaten to poison the blood of the Duchy, sowing discord where harmony once flourished.”
She paused, allowing a moment of measured silence to fill the carriage for dramatic effect. “My father’s sword arm is raised in defense of your just order, aided by my mother’s wisdom and oracular Sight. Together, they root out these malefactors, striving to restore peace and stability to your domain. In their stead, I have ventured forth alone to kneel before Your Majesty and pledge our enduring fidelity.”
“Very well, Lady Seraphina de Sariens. Your words are heard, and I accept you as the representative of your House. Step forward, and consider yourself welcomed, under the watchful grace of our Royal Court and the sovereign authority of the crown,” Eloise replied, leaning forward and steepling her fingers in mock seriousness.
It all became too much, and the girls could not help but giggle at the seriousness of it all. Ibn looked confused for a moment, as if waiting for permission to laugh. Eventually, he too joined in, the atmosphere proving too infectious. For a brief moment, all the passengers shared a lighter, happier mood.
*****
Passing through the towering main gates and beneath the raised portcullis, Seraphina entered a world that stood in startling contrast to the fortress’s grim exterior. Ahead, a neat gravel path stretched toward the main keep, flanked on both sides by symmetrical rows of fruit trees whose blossoms scented the air. Manicured lawns rolled out like emerald carpets, and upon them strutted strange, resplendent birds whose vivid orange-and-yellow tailfeathers fanned behind them as if painted by some audacious artist’s hand.
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The carriage drew to a halt before a fountain whose elegant, modern curves felt curiously out of place amid the citadel’s older aesthetic. In that tense moment, the splash of its water was the only sound that echoed in the steps of the Palace footmen, who rushed forward, helping her down with well-practiced courtesy. They were all clad in a deep blue livery trimmed with royal gold, the quality of their clothes a reflection of the King’s prestige.
Yet despite their humble station, something in their bearing suggested they held her in quiet contempt. She felt a prick of annoyance. These were lowly attendants, after all—how dare they look upon her so?
Still, decorum reigned. With measured politeness, Seraphina and her retinue were directed toward a small reception hall, a place of waiting and watching, where courtiers whispered behind veils of subtlety. Servants, too, drifted past, casting sidelong glances filled with curiosity and speculation.
Seraphina had once made King Elidion wait upon her convenience; now it seemed he was determined to repay the slight. Minutes stretched into an hour as the Court and the King arranged themselves in preparation to receive her. She felt the slow burn of irritation beneath her breastbone. Her recent yoga practice had reminded her to breathe through such moments, to center herself amid petty provocations. Even so, she would not forget this insult. An hour’s wait in the King’s gilded halls was a message, and Seraphina intended to answer it in time.
Sir Gantly, the King’s steward approached her personally—an old, dusty figure thin as a scarecrow, his features withered by age. No one would suspect it now, but Seraphina had heard he’d been a formidable warrior in his youth, once a general who marshaled armies at his command. That strength and aura of raw physicality had long since faded, worn down by the slow grind of time. Instead of leading troops into battle, he now mustered staff for courtly functions, a far cry from his glory days. As Seraphina regarded him, she couldn’t help but think that someone like him might find retirement out in the country a more dignified fate.
She gave him a small inclination of her head as protocol demanded, acknowledging his existence with the barest amount of courtesy that would be considered polite.
Seraphina’s entourage watched keenly as the encounter unfolded before their eyes.
“I trust you arrived in the capital without any trouble, Lady Seraphina,” said Sir Gantly, offering a false, obsequious smile. “I heard there might have been delays due to the poor roads, and of course, the bandit troubles plaguing your father’s lands.” He paused for effect. “Crown Prince Vellens, as I’m sure you know, is most eager to meet with you.”
Seraphina answered him with a measured smile, allowing her natural charisma to wash over him. “Why, Gantly… or should I say Sir Gantly?” she began, her voice smooth and poised. “You must understand that a lady cannot be rushed when attending to matters of true importance. It would be terribly rude. Still, I appreciate your patience. Several pressing issues required my attention on the journey to the capital.”
He remained surprisingly unruffled. “Oh, milady Seraphina, do enlighten this humble servant of the Crown,” he replied, the smile on his face never wavering.
“Why, I was bringing smiles to the people I encountered, adding a touch of joy to their lives,” Seraphina said, a light chiding in her tone. “It seems happiness is in short supply these days. But enough chatter with the help. I believe it’s time you led on, Sir Gantly.”
The old knight visibly bristled at her words, but swallowed whatever retort rose to his lips. “Of course, Lady Seraphina. The Royal Court awaits you with bated breath,” he said, his practiced smile forced and strained.
“Yes,” Seraphina replied childishly, taking umbrage with Sir Gantly refusing to surrender the final word. “Any longer, and I believe they’d all be quite purple in the face.”