Kingsley Family/Alyssa/Coronation

Smiddich is cool

Poe

Lucius had found himself a modest estate in Perdan called the Crooked Pathway, he quickly informed his new estate to transfer his holdings from Aix so he could prepare for the coronation tomorrow. He spent the evening reviewing his paperwork and tidying up some Seneschal administration.

Tomorrow was a very big day for Perdan.

Poe

Lucius chose to wear his ceremonial armour, it offered little in protection but looked stunning. Cast in white and gold he looked resplendent.

Throughout the week he had instructed for the grand hall of the Ducal Palace to be decorated beautifully. Banners and tapestries hung delicately across the room.

Lucius had arrived moments before some lords and ladies of the realm had began pouring into the great hall, he took a moment to survey the room and appreciate the effort the artisans of Perdan had delivered.

"The new King will hate all this...IT'S perfect" he laughed to himself. He had known Smiddich Fontaine for a while now and let's just say his taste was somewhat less over the top as dear Lucius.

​​​​​​Lucius turned on his heels and approached the giant dais at the end of the room before taking his position.

"Welcome dear friends! We shall wait a little while longer as more are on their way". Lucius spoke.

Guile

At more than seven and a half feet tall, Berwin stands head and shoulders above the majority of the throbbing and vibrant crowd outside the Ducal Palace in Perdan. His stark white locks and broken-iris eyes denote his lineage as clearly as a banner would, and the crowd slowly parts as the all-too-gaunt giant of House Guile waltzes up towards the guardsmen at the gate to present himself.

“Pardon soldier, would you mind sending word ahead that Berwin Guile, Knight of the Whitewater Hold in Bescanon, has arrived for the coronation? I know not the protocol these days, and do not wish to ruin His Majesty’s big day.” He quietly asks the commanding officer at the entrance.

Poe

"Captain Xiomara could you please inform the guards outside that once the lords of the realm have been seated they can allow the nobles and then finally the lesser nobles in" Lucius instructed.

It hadn't occured to Lucius to give people specific timings to arrive until he seen a hulking knight looking awkwardly into the grand hall.

"I think I may need bigger seats" he mused.

Poe

Lucius had ensured that all the noble houses would have their heraldry on full display within the hall, after all this was to be a moment that would be passed down from generation to generation. Not many could say they where there when the king of Perdan got crowned and even more so one as loved as the Duke himself Smiddich Fontaine.

Lucius stopped to admire a heraldic flag he knew very well. Blue and white with the ever present black bird. 'House Peregrine'.

He had personally seen that the Peregrine family had representation within the hall.

"Seneschal...i'm sorry to interrupt but the extra big chair has arrived that you ordered" squeaked a very tired looking gentlemen who had the task of locating a chair big enough for a 7 foot tall man.

"Wonderful news" Laughed Lucius.

Everything was going according to plan!

Storme

His study faces the sea.

It was a mercy today more then any other day as throngs of nobles milled around outside vying for a spot close enough to catch a glimpse of the new king when time time came, a sea of peasants barred out just beyond. For Aila the view was of a calm ocean sparking in the sunlight paired with a white Falcon riding the breeze and the only sounds to her ears the bustle of staff outside the heavy door and the crash of waves through the open window far, far below.

For Lady Storme the preparation was easy. She wore her armor which was light, designed for an archer and shined to a gleaming finish with her tabbard in proud Perdan colors. The long yellow hair she took such pride in was neatly wound in a delicate twist secured low on her head by a single silver hairpin and as always the silver falcon of her house hung at her throat on a thin chain.

At first it had been a relief to be told to wear her armor for the ceremony, she had felt glad that she was not stuck in a fitting being measured and pinned. As the time grew closer and the number of armed guards hired by the Judge patrolling the castle and it's grounds began to swell she had begun to wonder how much was ceremony and how much was precaution; it became harder to feel glad. Today had very little to do with her and still she felt nervous in the face of it all. She would stand with the other knights to watch a man become a King and that fact alone threatened to summon tears but Aila resolved long before then that she had spent her time in Brive weeping and she would not repeat that today.

MacArbin

Kenneth shook his head, laughing, as he and Dustiria entered the hall.

"Remind me to finagle Lucius' decorator out of him, dearest, I quite enjoy the extravagance...Not exactly Smiddich's style, though..."

He was doing his best to keep his humour, although the unexpected sartorial decision had left him somewhat out of sorts. Dustiria looked fine in her quite elegant ceremonial armour, but as he was more used to court finery, the only armour he had was decidedly not ceremonial. He had improvised, and had a tabard with his House colours and emblem pulled together on short notice (the benefits of all that finery, there was already cloth dyed with the right colours available), but this was not at all how he would have preferred to be present at the coronation.

The first personage to catch his eye was Lucius, of course, hard to miss the white and gold. But the second was equally distinctive, with that height.

"Ah, that must be Sir Berwin, I heard he was...Rather tall...But it's different seeing it in person."

He waved, somewhat hesitantly, at the giant of a knight.

Guile

Having been ushered by a guardsman into a formal reception area inside the Ducal Palace, Berwin keeps scanning the crowd as though looking for someone, or something, familiar. His rainbow-whirled eyes are in a state of flux as he takes in the myriad sights, smells, and sounds of his first grand gathering of noble families.

Compared to the rest of the gathering, the young Knight’s attire is much darker and heavier than those of his contemporaries. The black wolf fur adding as a padding between layers of patchwork emerald lamellar, iron plate, and ringmail. No ceremonial armour was available in his size, so his combat arms were the only thing appropriate to wear. The golden headed fox token of House Guile is tied to his waist in place of his service weapons, as it would not be becoming to have any implements of war at such a festive gathering.

Seeing someone raise a hand and wave hesitantly in his direction, Berwin looks around thinking the man must be looking for a friend of his. When it dawned on him that the crowd was too short for the wave to be directed at them, he comes to the realisation that the man across the room was waving at him. Making his way across the room, Berwin flashes an awkward smile at any who make eye contact or even look in his direction.

Being new truly is an odd sensation... at least these Perdanese are good folk. Worthless bloody Shadowdalians...

Keeping such thoughts locked firmly in his mind, Berwin introduces himself upon reaching the duo of sharply dressed noblefolk,

“Hail, friends! And well met! I am Berwin Guile, recently made vassal to the Lady Imperatrix. I apologise for my directness, as the protocols of court are not my forte, but might I ask your names and stations?”

Noire

​Dustiria is grateful for the functional dress armor Kenneth had go em her as the entered for the coronation. As he directs her attention to the rather tall man she looks up as Sir Berwin approaches stopping her from her usual scanning of the area around her.

"Well met Sir Berwin. I am Dame Dustiria Noire also of Bescanon, and accompanying me is Earl Kenneth of Nascot, Ambassador of Perdan. " Her usual manner, that of a cool fighting woman cracked for a brief moment as she spoke of Kenneth with love in her voice before snapping back into place as she kept subtle watch for her charge.

Dragoness

Where is Smiddish when you need him? The Coronation had not started yet, so Banetal wondered how to correctly address his friend.

Smiddish had forgotten to assign Banetal some chambers, so he had spent two days on his sloop in the Harbour.

He wondered if he simply would ask the Steward or Majordomo.

Poe

Lucius was overjoyed that the day was going according to plan, the decoration was majestic and the guests had all began to arrive. Time was on his side so he took the opportunity to mingle with the guests as they arrived.

He was relieved Sir Berwin had been ushered into the main room, it was nice to see the newer members of the realm get the chance to meet other members they had possibly not met yet. Dame Dustiria & Sir Kenneth the Earl of Nascot and Ambassador of Perdan arrived together as expected. Lucius thought they both looked exquisite, Sir Kenneth a little unorthodox but he wore it very well.

"Everyone may have I your attention. We are just waiting for a few more guests to arrive before i send for the King. Please enjoy yourself and get to know each other in the meantime" Lucius exclaimed, very happy with all the attention.

Storme

"It all seems fair to me, I will say Banetal retires is a good last item as it will never happen. The first step to all of this is the Imperatrix taking her most deserved seat in the Capital." Aila has a drink left untouched, her tone is it's usual thinly veiled displeasure as she was secretly quite jealous of the decision regarding the city.

"The rest will fall smoothly into place up till Sir Benjamin's part. Wonderful. I want to get to the part about the Blood King talking praise out of one side of his mouth and insulting King Kay from the other as if it helps his case" Finally, a genuine smile.

Fontaine

On the Big Day, Duke Smiddich was ushered from his bed early, and paraded in front of a range of stylists and artists, all ensuring that he appeared at his most resplendent.

“Armored” was the theme of the event, and His Grace was more than not accustomed to wearing very little; a breastplate, if anything, and typically a heavy coat. But, to appease his knights and adoring public, he was resigned to wearing something a little fancier.

First, white undertunic and hose; he could don those himself. Then a padded jacket and chausers, over which an assortment of squires started attaching plate mail pieces. Each were meticulously crafted, and intricately filigreed in silver designs. The Duke dutifully held out each limb as it was encased in steel, strapped with tiny buckles at each joint. The breastplate was a masterpiece of design, not heavy, but master crafted with the Lion of Perdan on either side in silver finery.

Meanwhile, the Duke was brushed and groomed, his black hair and beard achieving a patronly fullness without a trace of grey. He had to admit, as he was shown to the mirrors, he felt more trim than ever, even in the armor; it was certainly flattering.

A broad sword belt was affixed around his waist, with a straight longsword, which he habitually tested in the sheathe. It was mostly for show, but you never knew. The weapon was fancy, but sharp and would serve. As gauntlets and sabatons were affixed, a heavy coat was thrown about his arms and shoulders; it was luxuriously furred, a deep collar of some fine pelt. A fine hat was set upon his head; reminiscent of a commodores cap, but he would not need that adornment for very long – he was looking forward to another, much more substantial piece of headwear shortly.

Duke Smiddich was handed a ducal scepter, that jeweled rod being his sigil of Margrave over Perdan City, and was escorted by this throng and selected knights of his troops to a carriage, which would take him quickly to the Throne Room where history awaited him.

Everlight

Isana smiled at her reflection. “Armored” was an unusual theme for a formal ceremony. It was also what she was most comfortable in, however, and that would be a change for a formal event. She also thought she looked quite impressive. Her Head Healer, Dani, had been working on a new ringmail shirt for her, and the recent events had spurred her to complete it ahead of schedule.

The long, half-sleeved ringmail tunic shone like liquid moonlight. Around the collar and cuffs were woven intricate knotwork patterns in silver and gold wire that hinted at snowflakes and waves. Beneath it Isana wore a quilted linen tunic of deep green and trousers to match, with tall brown leather boots laced over her knees. She wore her ornamental sabre once again, its ornately jeweled hilt sparkling above a heavy brown leather belt. A small pouch also hung from her belt with a tiny wolf slide on its drawstring.

Cedric offered to put her hair up formally again, and she declined, saying it would be out of place with the armor. Instead her hair was in its single braid, brushed until it was glossy, and just the end tied with green, black, and white ribbons.

“Why is it an Imperator Tower anyway? We have an Imperatrix, the name’s all wrong,” Cedric piped, from where he was fiddling with the curtains.

“It’s a historic name, Ced, from when the place was built. Same position. Like how there’s Dames and Sirs.” Isana explained patiently. “Now will you go see if the open carriage is ready? It's getting close to Coronation hour.”

“But it’s wrong, why won’t they at least change the sign? It’s just a sign!” he insisted as he headed for the door.

“Take some chalk and fix it yourself if you’ve a mind, then.”

Cedric’s eyes brightened with excitement. He dashed to the mending kit, grabbed something, and then dashed off. “See you downstairs, Lady ‘Sana!”

Isana laughed and shook her head. There isn’t much harm he can do with chalk, and I see what he’s getting at, she thought. She gave one last glance to the mirror, then stepped out into the hallway and called up the stairs as she began to ascend.

“Aly dear? I’ve sent Ced for the cart, are you almost ready?”

Kingsley

Alyssa grimaced as Sir Graham fixed the last few plates of her armour in place. Normally such a task would not be suited to a knight, but Graham had served as her squire for many years before she granted him his title, and he had insisted upon the honour. She hoped the ceremony would be short, for the plate mail would surely grow hot and uncomfortable after a long period. The armour itself was rather plain, simple steel, but it had been polished to perfection and sparkled elegantly like it was brand new in the early summer sun shining through the Imperatrix's window. She looked at herself in the looking glass and nodded satisfied, standing gallantly in her full armour, the ceremonial Blade of the Imperator, the badge of her office at her hip.

She gave Graham a look, one which the old scarred man returned with a sly smile. Alyssa adjusted her hairpin, careful not to upset the intricately braided crown her hair had been put up in. She double checked each piece of her armour ensuring they were fitted correctly but she was interrupted by a call from below.

“Aly dear? I’ve sent Ced for the cart, are you almost ready?”

Graham's smile turned wider. "You shouldn't keep a lady waiting, my lady. I'll see you there." Alyssa nodded stiffly and grabbed her cape from its place folded neatly on a nearby chair, heading down the stairs, her armour clanking with each step down the stone stairs. She nearly bumped into Isana which startled her for a moment before she caught herself, Isana putting a careful hand on her for support.

"Thank you." She said straightening back up. She quickly inspected her partner in her brand new mail. It shone beautifully, as did Isana's smile.

"You cut quite the dashing figure, my dear." Alyssa said with a smile of her own. Isana took her arm and together they came back down the stairs, stepping in time to the clank of Alyssa's armor.

"Oh!" Alyssa said suddenly remembering what she carried under her other arm. "The cape. Would you mind?" She asked gently, holding the pristine white cloak out to her partner.

"Of course!" Isana answered accepting the cloak and lightly stepping forward into Alyssa's space and whipping it over her shoulder, fastening it to the clasps on each of Alyssa's shoulders. Isana was close enough for Alyssa to feel her breath. As she finished attaching the cloak, Alyssa feeling a bit bold, put an arm around her and kissed her sweetly. Alyssa's lips parted from hers with a smile as Isana gave her a playfully stern look.

"You planned that."

"An accusation with little merit, my lady. I was overcome."

Isana chuckled and took her arm again as they headed for the cart

"The ceremony shouldn't take long," Alyssa reassured. "I'll come find you right after."

Isana nodded and placed a quick peck on her cheek as Alyssa watched her fondly as she strode off into the crowd of other nobles to mingle. She looked up at the front of the hall where Lord Seneschal stood inspecting the crowd proud of his handiwork. She looked around at the various noble banners spotting her own, Isana's, Sir Christopher's and the all the others, finally spotting the colours of Peregrine which struck her strongly. He watches over us. She stole herself to keep her composure and stepped up before the elegantly dressed man, standing straight and tall at ease in her shining plate armour, taking her place for the ceremony.

DeMontigny

Delphine arrived at the coronation waring a specially made ceremonial armor. It was meant to be ready for Kays funeral, but unfortunately with all the orders in the recent week from the different events, the royal smiths had been overwhelmed.

The armor was a beautifully crafted dark plate design made of a thin but sturdy alloy. It was actually quite light and enabled almost full unhindered movement. It would of course be useless in any sort of real battle, but the visual effect was magnificent. Intricate engravings accentuated the metal adding dept to focal areas. The whole thing was trimmed in thin gold line. Delphine wore a long dark green skirt with scarlet embroidery over the legs. She did not bring her helmet with the signature Blackmane Paladins plume, but instead wore a raven feather cape with the marshals pin used as a clasp. She kept her hair in a loose french braid.

Delphine was used to waring armor on a regular basis, so where some would most likely find the formal armor uncomfortable if worn for a long period of time, in comparison to her regular combat armor, this was like waring leather.

Delphine walked in, not waiting to be ushered to her seat by a steward, she spotted the de Montigny coat of arms and made her way to her seat. She nodded in approval to Senechal Poe as their gazes crosses.

This was to be a fine day for Perdan. Whom would ever have though that a Pirate would one day be King of the greatest ream on the continent.

Chamberlain

The ceremonial armour had been made for her grandmother, but never been worn. Made from the carapace of some sea creatures from the Omsk Peninsula the silvered bodice had an opaline gleam with a dancing sheen on the fitted curves, atop the fine silver mesh shirt made with such small links it lay like fabric more than metal. The full white skirts were also surprisingly light, but crafted to sweep.

Her curled hair was gathered into a long braid accented with pearlescent pins.

She considered the Paladins badge, but remembering the new Kings vitriolic letter of the previous week she pocketed it, unsure of whether she should wear it or not.

The State room was a busy and ostentatious hive of activity. The flounces and frippery were the calling card of the Seneschal. She had been concerned briefly that she might be overdressed but if anything felt rather subdued in her environment.

With a stir of relief she noted the raven cloak of the Marshal. Reaching her side she slid her arm into the Marshals, feeling her tense then relax in recognition.

"Lady Mulhouse, this is quite the event. I have not been present at a coronation before and being a pirate King and under the eye of the Seneschal I am interested to see how this one proceeds..."

Storme

"There's no time for that now"

"I'm sorry Milady" A castle-maid followed behind Aila apologizing profusely until waved off dismissively by the young knight. Gladly, the woman disappeared and left Lady Storme searching the corridors of the castle's hold for what turned out to be an easily spotted man encased in gleaming armor. Still surrounded by attendants he was very occupied with the last touches of his appearance giving her a long moment to stand back and look him over without being spotted.

Unsatisfied with the vantage point she would make herself known to the attendants by shouldering right between them and presenting herself in front of Smiddich with no friendly greeting but instead a stream of chastisements for the stylists who looked between her and the king in utter confusion as she fussed over him herself, her comments toward the men responsible for the armor never slowing. Lady Storme pulled up the sleeve of her tunic to shine a nearly invisible smear off his shoulder, two fingers smoothed an errant hair back smartly, and she straightened the little silver trinket in the shape of a falcon taking flight hidden in his collar just because she was surprised to see it there on such a day.

Aila took a step back with the attendants who had designed the suit and nodded approvingly much to the amusement of the men; who were quite happy with it before she arrived. It was from here when she began inspecting the scepter for any imperfection she noticed as the Duke held it the Fontaine Signet ring she had never seen him without was missing- replaced today with a different one she hadn't seen before. But time was short and the matter of his rings had little importance in that moment.

"Don't let anyone else touch you now you're perfect" she warned loud enough for the attendants to hear and left him with a rather rough peck- missing his cheek in her haste and landing somewhere on his jaw as she retreated from him as quickly as she had forced her way in.

---

The Throne room was a display of lavish pride in Perdan, banners hung proudly, guards stood armored near as beautifully as the knights meant as much to be decoration as security she was sure. She had left the Duke to his fate and found her way into the throne room through the same door as the other knights rather inconspicuously.

Dame Aila realized instantly that the knights of Perdan looked as fine as their soon king as she looked around at the sets of useless yet beautiful armor some of them wore. Looking rather plain in comparison, she found herself a place alone to wait toward the front of the throne room observing her fellow knights thoughtfully as they arrived.

Renodin

Flanked by several retainers Nemean had made his way into the Ducal Palace at Perdan. The preparations were in full swing. He could see servants and finery in every hallway. Where he went however, there would be fewer and fewer of them. The Throne room. The clang of his steel sabatons rang off of the stone floors. Steady and confident. His body was decked in intricate gothic plate. Darkened and highly decorative. Even for its parade purpose it was solid. The gauntlets fine yet sturdy. The inlaid pearl and gold expensive but not in such a way as to cause trappage for weapons it was supposed to deflect. The shoulder mounted neckguard wasn't attached but the fittings were there. His legs encased in masterly inlaid sheets of metal. Under them padding and again under those fine fabrics. Lavishly sprinkled with his signature perfume. Myrrh and mint. Aside from his helmet he neither wore his gauntlets. The latter hung from his belt while the other was held by an attendant wearing his livery.

Clasped from the front of the shoulders by gold-wired cords. Hung, draped over his shoulders a thick cape made of fine dyed wool worked with cashmere. Broad and full as to match the substance of the armor it wreathed like a dark sun. At the very bottom there was a cut that separated the very end in two distinct pieces. One of which waved to the left and the other to the right as he moved. On either ending a Lion. Embroidered in gold upon the jet black fabric. Each lionine creature in its own habitat of heraldry and symbolism. The Lion of House Renodin and on the other side, the Lion of House JeVondair.

Their clawed paws arching upwards. Following a verdant vista represented in the gold of day's end. Upon reaching the center of the cape one would find the Lion of Perdan. Enshrined in an orb of golden fire. Shining its rays down and all around. At the very top, the stars of night, high on the cape and studding the shoulders of the man. They fell away behind the dark golden hair of the Prince that wore it all.

Nemean cast his green eyes across the room. His jawline taut as he worked the muscle. The entourage of retainers dismissed with a gesture of his hand before he moved into the room proper. The golden plaques that made up the ambassador's necklace bounced against his chest-plate. He took in the people that had gathered. Noting the giant of a man greeting Kenneth and Dustiria. Looking beyond he noticed how Lorelai proverbially huddled up to Delphine and whispered words. The Poe stood center piece where ever one would find him and this was no different. It forced his angular features to betray a curve. He moved further into the room. There sounded another clang. Not before revealed. From his side there hung an ornamental flanged mace. In the style of his armor and sporting a multitude of Lion's claws.

His eyes left the person of Lucius as he glances across the room to spot whatever he might've missed before. But not much new came into vision. Sharing a look with the Poe he surrendered to the curve and smiled. At the same time he gestured with his open right hand. A single, heavy gold ring on display. Before he reached his friend however, his feet had brought him to where Delphine had been seated. Love. He offered to the air and as a means to not startle the warrior lady overly much. He leaned down with more grace and ease than the armor might've led on and placed a kiss on the top of her head. Whispering words into her raven hair before closing his eyes and breathing in her scent before pushing off and continuing on.

Two strides became three and with the Poe not that far away, the two were close. Hands reached out and firm grip bonded men like promises do words. Kinship was obvious and white teeth flashed as the two so obviously enjoyed one another's company. Always a pleasure you peacock. The grin not far away.

So Nemean arrived at the coronation. Delighting in the company of his friend and being close to the woman of his heart.

Storme

The judge looked calm an in control, the other knights so far seemed to all be in good cheer and Aila had slowly begun to relax despite the rather overwhelming setting. Staring at the dais she pondered many things about what the Judge had planned for that day; this was the only coronation Aila had ever attended and she had no idea what to expect from it.

The murmuring of noble ladies directly behind her distracted her from thoughts, the words 'he's so lovely' floated their way past Lady Storme as she turned to see who had garnered such attention. Immediately she felt like an idiot for turning because of course...

Nemean had made his entrance looking like something out of a sonnet: the Golden Lion, a dashing knight, pausing only to admire the maiden he so loved. As he surveyed the room, Aila surveyed him and found that she had entirely escaped his notice despite the friendly words he had sent her in his last letter.

As he greeted Poe she summoned up some extra nerve and approached the story-book knight with a courteous greeting. As in all things Aila did not mince words "Sir Nemean, how fortunate to run into each other at such a crowded event- It's been so long I wonder if you can still match a name to my face." Her words were kind but the shrewdness of her tone never left.

"I just wanted to say congratulations on your new position. Your letter writing, prolific; Your armor absolutely resplendent." Finally the little knight broke her stoic act with a sweet smile, just for him "You will make a wonderful Ambassador."

Daubeny

Apollyon marched into the throne room of Perdan City, the sun was shining through ornate windows and the Young Daubeny was smiling brightly.

He was dressed in his normal plate armour, though he had forgone the helmet, though the armour’s style and colour changed, the armour was more angular and smooth then the ruff and almost spiky armour Apollyon wore before, the armour appeared to be a finely polished bronze, though the bronze was merely plated on top of the steel. The tabard that followed was white and green, a gold sun on the back covered by a golden cape with a black lion imprinted on it.

Apollyon saw many nobles he recognised, he made sure to walk over and bide them all a good day, he made doubly sure to stop next to Lady Everlight “I heard about the accident I am glad you recovered.” He offered her a wide smile “Forgive me I just realised I had not introduced myself, I am Ser Apollyon, it is a pleasure to meet you Lady Everlight.” Apollyon thought he saw Dustiria and quickly bowed to Lady Everlight, he quickly made his way through the crowd though he lost sight of the who he hoped was Dustiria.

Apollyon sighed and continued to walk around greeting fellow nobles all the while smiling, Apollyon had not spoken to another noble of Perdan for a while and in that time important events had transpired. He hoped he would get a moment to talk to Lady Chamberlain as he unfortunately missed her in Perdan Mines.

Hensley

Elinor looked at herself sorrowfully. Why would a coronation be “themed” with armour? She did not possess “ceremonial armour” nor would have ever thought to acquire some. It seemed so unnecessary; she had armour for the field and her new silk dress for parties, which she had been looking forward to wearing for such an important occasion. Instead she would have to support her liege and King dressed for battle. She supposed that was the symbolic intent.

They had gone over everything with care, making sure that no stains or rents marred her quilted black gambeson or the trousers tucked into high black leather boots. She and Meraud had cleaned and oiled her haubergeon, but nothing would stop it from being a dull grey. She wore her leather bracers, but left off coif, choosing instead the simple plait with the spiked strap braided into it, and belted on her sword in its black scabbard. Even the tabard Elinor pulled overtop was black though the purple and white of her family colours did show up well against the dark background.

She took only Meraud with her into the castle, making their way with other nobles and attendants to the throne room. Elinor recognized many of those milling about the room, though not her new friend. Some of the audience were chatting quietly together, but she hated to interrupt or insert herself and started to head towards a corner. Only the firm grip that Mo took on her arm halted her before she could retreat to the back of the room. With steady pressure, Meraud drew her back closer to the dais and planted Elinor front and centre.

“Your liege. You can’t hide from this one, El. Be the Viscountess of Dimwood.”

Elinor straightened her spine; it was so much easier to remember to be the Lady of the Manor when you were wearing the dress.

Daubeny

Apollyon noticed a new noble join the crowd, he smiled when he recognised her, he made his way over to her, when he reached her he offered her a small bow “Lady Hensley, its a pleasure to see you again, how have you been?” Apollyon’s smile was wide and joyful. He had realised he forgot to reply to her letter from some time ago, he quickly spoke “Apologies for not returning your letter I have been awfully busy as of late.”

Hensley

“Sir Apollyon, what a pleasure to see you again,” Elinor’s smile was genuine, “Have no concern about the letter; I am usually the one who is slow to reply. But, how have you been? What is keeping you so busy these days?”

Daubeny

Apollyon grinned “I have been well thank you Elinor.” Apollyon paused for a moment “I must ask do you prefer Elinor, Eli or Lady Hensley?”

Apollyon considered her question, what had kept him so busy, he thought for a moment and his smile faltered, softly Apollyon responded “Work...” Apollyon smiled again “Anyways which do you prefer.”

Hensley

As so often seemed to happen, Elinor found herself in some confusion over what another noble considered proper behaviour. It seemed rude to correct him, besides there were so very many odd activities that she’d almost begun to believe that mother had made up half of the courtly etiquette she’d taught to her.

“My forename is Elinor and certainly my friends and family call me so, or sometimes El as pleases them. I hope that we are to be friends, Sir Apollyon and that you will feel free to address me as such,” she smiled gently, “I would be surprised to be called Lady Hensley rather than Lady Elinor or, if one was to be absolutely correct, Lady Dimwood. That last is possibly old-fashioned, of course, and not even my mother would insist upon it.” Probably.

Clearly whatever was keeping him busy was not a happy discussion; best avoid that topic.

“Shall you be attending the hunt, Sir?”

Daubeny

Apollyon considered Elinor’s words, he smiled “Well then Elinor, I ask you call me Apollyon, I have also been called Lyon as it is shorter then my full name and has a nicer ring then Apol.”

Apollyon thought for a moment “I think I will attend the hunt though I will it lie when I say I have never tried to hunt before.”

He smiled “It shall be yet another new experience in this strange new land.”

DeMontigny

As Delphine was making her way to her seat, she was startled by an arm hooking itself into hers. She quickly realized it was Lorelai. They were finally getting along on more familiar terms.

"Lady Mulhouse, this is quite the event. I have not been present at a coronation before and being a pirate King and under the eye of the Seneschal I am interested to see how this one proceeds..." -Lorelai Chamberlain

"Vice-marshal Lorelai, i'm happy to see you here and in a good mood. It's nice seeing you relaxed at one of these formal events. This will be my first coronation as well, quite the privilege. That is a beautiful set of armor, quite unique. This is a great event, everyone is certainly at their best. Come, the marshals seats are over here."

While the ladies were sitting in a casual talk, a familiar voice spoke out above her.

"Love." -Nemean JeVondair Renodin

"Ambassador." She replied.

Delphine did not move or acknowledging the man she had been apart from for so long with any more word. As he lay in and gently kissed her head, she could smell his wonderful perfume, how she missed that scent. His wispered words made her smile involuntarily, a hint of pink flourish rose to her cheeks. She still did not move her head though, nor look at him as he walked away. She permitted herself but a quick glance as he greeted Senechal Poe, admiring Prince Nemeans attire, but seeing only the man wearing it.

Focusing back on Lorelai. "So do tell me about your armor. Everything about you always has so much history attached."

Everlight

Isana spun and plunged into the crowd, swallowing a lump of disappointment that she would not get to mingle with her love by her side as they had at the Gala. Of course, this was an official function, and officials of the realm must be in attendance. But she’s been away on the Islands… She shook her head, and pushed to find a different focus.

The dark-haired knight held still in a space between groups, and let her gaze ramble around the room, taking in the lavish spectacle of colourful decoration and beautifully armored attendees. They were all so… impressive. With a start she realized that many of the peers were familiar to her now. There was the young Sir Daubeny, speaking animatedly with a bashful Lady Hensley. The Master of Ceremonies, Sir Lucius Poe, was nearly blinding in a bright gold-and-white set of ceremonial armour as he welcomed everyone grandly. The Lady Lorelai was there, garbed in the most fantastical opalescent plating Isana had ever seen. Sir Nemean was standing officiously off to one side, looking pleased and smug. Across the room she caught Sir Kenneth’s profile and another figure who must be Dustiria, talking to a huge white-haired man in dark furs.

She grinned, smoothed her new mail shirt proudly, and wove her way through the crowd in the direction of her friends. The Coronation felt like a fabulous childrens’ play-battle, with everyone dressed for war but attending for entertainment and ceremony rather than violence.

“Dustiria! Sir Kenneth!” she greeted warmly and offered an armclasp-hug to each. She turned to introduce herself to the tall man, thinking he must be a close match in size to Sir Rogos V'Orlan. “I am Isana Everlight of the Riverlands. By your device, are you our new neighbour in Bescanon, Sir Berwin?” she asked, working to keep her face neutral and smiling rather than astounded as she caught sight of his very unusual eyes.

Guile

“Well met, Lady Everlight. I am indeed the newest vassal of Bescanon’s Lady. It is a pleasure to meet you in person. Apologies for my tardiness in reply to your last missive.” Berwin replies to the lovely woman who came over to speak to Dustiria and Kenneth, his rainbow eyes whirling through bright greens and blues indicating the young Guile’s joy.

“I wonder, could anyone point me in the direction of some libations? I am rather thirsty.” He softly asks the trio nearby, and then slips off to find a beverage, as much as any 7’8” man can ‘slip off’.

Stewart

His armor in place. The Captain taking over for him in Meuse, Christopher walked to the coronation. His mood, while hopeful for the new King, was somber. Entering the vast chamber, he chose a spot away from other nobles. Inundated with emotions, he wanted to be far from here. Guilt over being the first to publicly support another candidate and the death of King Peregrine still filled him with angst. It would be quite a long time before both feelings left him. Until then, he simply was to be alone both figuratively and literally.

Chamberlain

She could never be entirely sure whether Delphine was being funny or not. It served naught to doubt herself so with only the fractional flushing if her cheeks she settle back sons to show off best the opaline cuirass.

"My family name has far more achieved in its history than its present. My Grandmother presided over what was perhaps Nivemus greatest days. During her reign she was fortunate enough to govern between twenty and thirty knights and lords, it is sad to see how low Nivemus has sunk despite lands and gold aplenty. She conquered the Omsk peninsula, pushing the old Obsidian Isles back from their mainland toe hold.

"How history will view her I don't know, but she was well loved by the men of the peninsula. They were fisherman and artisans... they crafted this armour, the opaline is from the carapace of sand crabs. It is actually very functional, though I hate to imagine what repair costs might be... it took years to make, my Grandmother had already birthed my father by the time it was completed so she never wore it... I am just pleased that I can give it a forum where the partisanship may be appreciated, they must have worked so hard."

She flushed as she rubbed her hands over the fine white fabric of the gown. "You do not think it too much?"

Fontaine

Some years ago, aboard the Wayfarers Gambit

The galleon lists to one side; she is taking water. One sail is shredded and the other afire, both flapping in the smoky breeze. Another ship, leaner and laden with guns is moored alongside and fixed with boarding ropes and hooks.

A ferocious battle occurs between the Island King's men, and this band of privateers; professional savages given leave by their sovereign to do harm to his enemies. The corsairs are ruthless, and although regimented, the Kings armsmen take heavy casualty from grapeshot and cutlass. The ocean is stained red and floats with debris.

What remains of the armsmen form a rough half-circle surrounding their Monarch at the forecastle. There is nowhere to retreat, their swords out but shaky as the pirate horde descends and bays for their blood.

From among the brigands steps their leader; he is tall and broad, in long jacket and mismatched boots. Swarthy, heavily bearded and tattooed, he holds a battered cutlass in his hand. A bloody rag is tied around his arm but the sword never wavers.

"Tell yon crew to stand down, your Majesty", says the heavily accented pirate Captain, "This vessel is mine, and everything on it. "If ye' want to live.... drop steel!"

"You will never take what is mine!", snarls the foreign King.

Hawk

Ulric walked inside the Ducal Palace, his armor cleaned and polished the night before. He had never been to a coronation before, and he was excited to witness one first hand. Life was short he had come to realize, more so after the death of King Kay, and he wanted to experience as much as he could in this life before he was ushered into the next one. Normally he hated wearing anything ceremonial, he preferred comfort and utility over anything else, and even in battle his armor was sparse and light, favoring mobility over overt protection, however this was a special occasion, and while he did not own 'ceremonial' armor per say, he did own a set of armor that was not brought out much. A set that if he wore it on the battlefield usually meant he foresaw a heavy defensive battle, where he would be holding the line with his men more than pushing forward.

He had spent all night cleaning it himself, he could have had someone else do it, but the act of polishing it, cleaning it, it was soothing to him. The new era for Perdan was set to begin, the pirate Duke was set to become the King, and Ulric was looking forward to the new dawn. His respect for the soon to be king was high, and Ulric allowed himself a slight smile as he looked around, taking note of all the Lords and Ladies, of all the Knights, who came to support the new King and the coronation.

Belmont

Salem never showed up.

He completely forgot. In fact, he's completely forgotten that Smiddich is the King, or that Kay is even dead. Salem participated in the voting, yet completely forgot about all of it. Instead, he was gone. Nowhere even close to the capitol city. As of late, Salem's mind has been focused on returning to his roots. Debating on whether or not he should continue the lie about his knighthood, or do what it is he's supposed to be doing in life. Thing is, he's been doing pretty well as a knight, despite not knowing anything that he's actually doing. Perhaps if he had a better reason to stay...

Renodin

As in all things Aila did not mince words "Sir Nemean, how fortunate to run into each other at such a crowded event- It's been so long I wonder if you can still match a name to my face." Her words were kind but the shrewdness of her tone never left. "I just wanted to say congratulations on your new position. Your letter writing, prolific; Your armor absolutely resplendent." Finally the little knight broke her stoic act with a sweet smile, just for him "You will make a wonderful Ambassador." ~Aila Storme

The clasp of hands released. Nemean inclined his head at the Poe and they smiled. Words were for lesser people. They had music. The flowering voice of youth sprang with a thousand notes. The gold maned head turned to gaze down upon her soft features. The green of his eyes near vanished behind slits. Prolific jousting. The corner of his lips turned upwards and the gem-like hardness of his gaze softened as a sparkle of joy lept into it like a fish reaching beyond water.

He reached out with his arm and placed a hand on her shoulder. The gesture not hiding the peering he did again. Aila wasn't it? The words offered carefully and deliberate. Just like his strong fingers gently squeezed her shoulder before letting go. Thank you for your words, the Duke, soon to be King must agree with you assertion of prolific. He glanced around to see if he could spot Smiddich yet. Either that or he's foisting a great burden on me. I don't mind though, I can shoulder it. The smile twirled and turned but didn't relent to a grin quite yet. It quite settled in fact as she smiled up at him. Thank you. He blinked. We should talk afterwards. The tone of his voice made it less of a suggestion than it could've been construed as. His gaze already working the crowd. The brow above giving every sign of deeper thought.

The eyes of green returned to her in an instant. Afterwards.

Poe

Lucius finished his announcement and made his way across the room, he offered a smile at some of the lesser nobles as the guards had tried to usher everyone into the room as the time was getting near for the big event. His eyes met those of Margravine Delphine as walked in. Lucius flashed her a big smile as he returned her nod hoping to catch up with her at some point over the next few days.

The smile didn't get the chance to leave his lips.....That armour. That cape. If anyone was in danger of out dressing the Poe surely he had just arrived.

They shared a smile before Lucius strut over, a few nobles tried to steal his attention but he shot them a quick nod and kept moving. "Why didn't i wear a cape" He wondered. They clasped hands and greeting each other with wide smiles, "Nemean...or should i say Ambassador, you look magnificent!" Lucius roared. "Peacock..haha? You know what i'm like when they let me strut" He continued. This is what Lucius had missed. The kinship he shared with so many of the Knights and Lords of the realm now that he was Seneschal.

Lucius took the opportunity to make his escape from the Nemean as Dame Aila stole his attention. Thankful for the interrupted as they would have happily spent the entirety of the evening telling stories.

"Speak to you later Badass-ador Nemean" Lucius laughed as he blended into a crowd, confident he heard a groan or two.

Lucius caught the sight of another cloak in the crowd. He was confident it was the Imperatrix he had just seen walk past but couldn't shake the feeling that he had made the gravest mistake of all.

"Why didn't i wear a damn cape" he spoke, shaking his head.

Noire

Dustiria watches Alyssa go by her once again not noticing her. She leans close to Kenneth to whisper to him, "Love am i supposed to stand behind Alyssa for this? do you know? Oh you should probably know that when I delivered the news to Smidditch at the stump he was well not dressed as you would think. I didn't want you to hear from sally or Bruce. He uh picked me up spun me around in a hug. nothing more I promise."

Poe

"Captain Xiomara, could you please instruct the guards to let our soon to be King know it's time" Lucius whispered as he ushered a few of his soldiers to the doors to start showing people to their seats. "The realm council will be standing as he arrives, so leave seats for them at the front. After them we need the small council, the Lords and then the beloved nobles of the realm" He continued as he pointed to sections of the room ensuring everyone knew where they needed to be.

Lucius took it upon himself to help by speaking to people and showing them to their seat, obviously it was mostly the red haired beautiful ones he found the time to escort. Lucius squeezed himself past the giant Sir Berwin as he noticed Dame Dustiria looking unsure on the seating arrangements which was partly his fault because he forgot to let everyone know ahead of time where they should sit.

"Apologies Dame Dustria. Let me show you to your seat" Lucius smiled giving Ambassador Kenneth a cheeky wink as he led her away.

Poe

Everyone was in place and soon to be King was here. Lucius was overjoyed it had finally come together as he planned and he would be soon given the honoured task of crowing the new king of Perdan.

This was the largest gathering of armoured Lords and Nobles of Perdan there had been since the SIN war and it was magnificent. As the king walked towards the council and the throne Lucius was suddenly swept away, his mind a carnival of bliss as a rising cacophony of sound had once again come alive. His lips crept into a smile as he tapped his foot mirroring that of the future king as he climbed the steps.

Lucius shook his head as he tried to read the lips of the pirate duke as he spoke, he suddenly become aware he was holding a sword. HIS sword which seemingly belonged to him now. "Thank you" he mouthed hoping he hadn't just been asked to hold it for the time being.

"It's time" Lucius spoke this time fully in control of himself again. Captain Xiomara brought him his papers and took away the sword until the ceremony was finished. Lucius walked to the centre of the stage.

DeMontigny

Delphine listened intently to Lorelai as she gave her a brief history lesson. As always, it was impressive at how much some of the nobles in the realm had such deep history. She could feel the ease that came when her vice-marshal tapped into her infinite well of knowlege of the world.

"I envy you Lorelai. I am but a merchants daughter with the highlights of my chilhood being when my favorite pirate Smiddich, I mean soon to be King Smiddich, would come to the port in Aix to trade goods with my father and tell us stories of his great adventures at sea."

As Lorelai finished, she once again reverted to her timid self. Delphine had been working hard to build up the girls confidence. She wanted to make sure that she was an example to follow by for the other knights of the Paladins.

"You do not think it too much?" - Lorelai Chamberlain

"Your armour is exquisite! Have you looked around? This is the exact place to be wearing such a magnificent piece of craftsmanship with so much history. I mean, my set is nice and new and well made for certain, but no where as unique as yours. Wear it proudly!"

At that moment, the future King of Perdan arrived. All eyes were now on him, as they should. This was a new chapter in the great story of Perdan and it's future King would surely add many more.

Chamberlain

"You envy me?" She settled back in her chair, "Delphine... you have achieved so much on your own merit alone, you are a Margravine and a Marshal of the largest realm on the continent, you were within a few breaths of becoming the Imperatrix. All of this is your achievement from your work... I live with a level of expectation, people who think they know me because they knew my relatives, people who will question my agenda and regard any achievement I make as because of my name not because of who I am. That is why, in part I was educated in and joined Perdan, a realm my Grandmother saved, but she will always be regarded as having destroyed, here I thought I could grow apart from her, earn a name for myself, but even here there will be those who view me as entitled, rather than earning. I admire you greatly Delphine, and I am honoured by your friendship. I do not though envy your daughters, on your current trajectory, they will have an extraordinary ancestor to be measured against."

Fontaine

Duke Smiddich accepts Ailas preening, and the kiss on the cheek. His attendants look cross, but there was little they could do to prevent her intrusion and last minute repairs to his attire. His eyes are kindly on her she she departs.

The Black Bladed Duke squares himself to enter the Ducal palace, up through the steps and along the tiled corridors that lead to the throne room. Everywhere he looks are people, his soon-to-be subjects, lining every street and at every window. For many, this is a once in a lifetime experience. For the once Pirate Lord, not least of all.

The Monarch elect steps surely through up the steps, his long cloak arrayed behind him to flow across the tiles. His steel boots clatter as he makes his way down the richly decorated hallways of his home. The intricate steel and silver half-plate have a way of making one feel confident; invulnerable! So, Smiddich enters the hall where all eyes alight on him.

The once-pirate surveys his knights; resplendent in their personal armours and waiting to receive him. The members of his council wait at the top of a step, and there, the throne. Kay's throne, on which he rarely sat when he was in power. His worship, Sir Poe, is the only one smiling, tapping his foot to the music only he can hear.

Smiddich takes a breath and begins to step down the hall. His knights salute, bow or curtsy as he passes, and he replies with an imperceptible nod, a wink, a raising of his bearded chin. The soon-King approaches his council, and stands. The hall is so utterly quiet.

A trio of pages bearing padded cushions move swiftly behind the councillors, and Sir Smiddich of Perdan removes his fine hat. It is a mastery of royal millinery, such darkest blue to appear black and subtly jeweled. He presents the hat to Sir Benjamin, Baillivus of Perdan and the Margrave of Biscye.

"If you would be so kind, your Excellency, and mind this for me?", asks the Duke, setting the hat on the cushion.

Next, the Duke addresses Sir Poe, Judge-Seneschal of Perdan.

"I hear you are without a blade?", he asks, already reaching for the buckle on his magnificent scabbard. The leather is dark, oiled and worked to suppleness, with silver and steel fittings. The sword is straight and strong with bold, curved quillions. He hands the weapon, scabbard and all, hilt-first into the Senescals hands. "May it serve you well!", says the Duke with a smile.

Finally, he alights on Lady Alyssa. "My lady of Bescanon", he addresses the Imperatrix, "My hands are full!", he laments, twirling the gold and gem rod in his fingers; the staff represents the Margravineship of Perdan. With a playful flip, he presents the rod to Alyssa, closing his hand over hers for a moment, "This is yours now", he says meaningfully.

The pages bear the prizes away on their respective cushions to stand nearby, that the King and his subjects may attend without encumbrance. Sir Poe, Priest of Leandra, moves to the centre of the stage - the only obstacle now between Smiddich... and the throne.

MacArbin

Kenneth nodded politely at the giant before him, content to let Dustiria speak for the both of them, and then turned and smiled widely as Isana approached, and returned her armclasp just as warmly.

"Ah, Isana, good to see you! And I love that knotwork, how exquisite!"

As Berwin mentioned libations, Kenneth spotted a passing servant and he gestured the new Knight in that direction, though in truth he had no idea if drinks were intended. The idea of them all standing around in armour with mugs was a little amusing.

Before he could settle into the conversation with Isana, however, Lucius announced that matters were to begin and the King-elect arrived. As they milled about somewhat trying to determine their locations, he spotted Christopher and Ulric as they entered, and made a note to look up both men later. As the Seneschal approached to whisk Dustiria away, he blinked on some confusion at her last words, before opening his mouth just as Lucius finished detaching her and gave him a rather cheeky wink. Was...Did that...Well, that would be an interesting discussion for later...

As he finally determined where he was to be in the constellation of gathered nobility, he gave an apologetic smile to Isana before leaning in.

"My lady, I would like to speak more with you when you have the chance. First, we do not get the chance to speak nearly enough, and it is always enjoyable when we do! But second..."

His voice dropped somewhat lower.

"There is actually a matter of some import I hope to gain your help with. After the coronation?"

As he made his way to join the rest of the small council, he absorbed her reply, and failed to notice the interplay with the King and Alyssa in his abstraction, and then was lost in the ceremony.

Kingsley

"This is yours now"

Alyssa accepted the rod without a sound, nor change in expression. She nodded once in acknowledgement. "It shall be as you say." She replied quietly, only for him. With a nod he turned back towards the center of the platform. Alyssa returned to her rigid and sturdy stance, holding the rod carefully. A motion in the crowd caught her eye as she glanced aside to see Dustiria sitting down alongside the other knights of the River her deep red hair like a flame dancing among the hall of knights and lords. Vigilant as ever. Alyssa gave her a subtle approving nod as her gaze fell to the others sitting by her. Sir Berwin's enormous form towered over the others, he was easy to spot, and she quickly found Isana smiling up at the stage not far off. It sparkled as bright as her shiny new mail, and a little smile flashed briefly over her as well. She could not see Salem which she half-expected. He had always seemed a bit shy, and had probably taken a position closer to the back.

My knights... She considered standing at attention. Will they come with me? Will they want to? Have I been good to them...?

She loved them all dearly, and had tried her best, but the questions rattled in her head as Lord Lucius finished his speech. Berwin was new but seemed a noble fellow, and she liked him already. Dustiria had always been there for her, her shadow watching, a small word of comfort when needed. Not to mention saving her life. Dustiria seemed more interested in Kenneth now than her, often leaving for overnight stays in Nascot; a fact that she had not missed, but one she understood well and never bore against her. She had made her own excuses and escapes from Dustiria for time alone with Isana, of this they were both guilty. Her eyes fell to the beautiful woman sitting next to her. Isana. Her morning star smiled sweetly in her direction when their eyes caught. Alyssa thought maybe by now her heart would stop fluttering so much for her, but it hadn't. Nor did she want it to. Isana was her beacon of hope, and Alyssa was her home. Were I only there to witness this alongside her, with them. She felt a belonging towards the other side of the room. But her place was here, between Lucius and Benjamin. Her place in Perdan.

She took a deep breath. The King would answer and then he would be crowned. A new era was dawning, and the sun would crest over when the crown was set upon Smiddich's head. Alyssa planned to be ready.

Storme

Remaining cool, she couldn't help but glance down at his hand as Nemean touched her- not outraged but rather surprised that he had dared such a gesture; in her experience only the boldest of the bold who dared to reach out and touch her the prickly dame of Aix. She had no more smiles for him as glanced around the room in a way she decided was peculiar. Aila could take a hint as well as any other and with his request to talk to her heard she left him with a curt nod and walked with arms folded back to her place.

A murmur swells from the crowd as another armored figure enters the throne room, anticipation prickles through her as Lady Storme dares to look before bowing on cue with the others. She watches with interest as Fontaine's precious trinkets are redistributed and tries her best to keep a stalwart appearance even as anticipation stirred inside her so vigorously. Since the moment he had emerged she had took note of how calm he seemed, and as the scepter of the city he loved left his hands she wondered if under the surface he felt something very different then the easy confidence he displayed.

Poe

"First i would like to say Thank You. To the soon to be King for giving me this honour and to everyone of you for attending and being apart of this great occasion" He started looking at the gathered crowd before turning his attention back to The Duke.

"Smiddich Fontaine, Duke of Perdan, Margrave of Perdan. You stand before all of us as it was you who won the right to wear the crown of Perdan. These are the votes of men and women who have faith in you to lead our great realm forward into a new age. But faith is fleeting and can be misplaced and that is why we have the oath." Lucius looked at the Duke aware he was the last thing in his way of his prize.

"The oath is sacred. The oath is a promise. To reward the great people of this realm for believing you are fit to rule. As i read through each section you are to answer with 'I Will', this is to demonstrate you understand the burden of the oath and the weight it carries" He continued casting his eyes down he begins to read.

Will you take the oath?

Will you swear to uphold the laws of our realm at all times?

Will you swear to protect our ideals and customs from internal and external threats?

Will you swear to bring hope and prosperity to our realm?

And finally.

Will you swear to speak the truth even if your voice shakes?

Lucius looks at the Duke as he reads the last line awaiting his answers.

Daubeny

Apollyon watched the ceremony taking place, he felt his heart swell with pride.

But there was a small hint of dread, that would not go away, Apollyon couldn’t help but focus on that and suddenly the hall felt very cold. Apollyon felt alone despite the people around him. Was he wrong, did he make the wrong choice, what had he done?

Apollyon shook his head and continued to watch the ceremony, finding clarity in focusing on the Seneschal’s words.

Roleplay from Smiddich Fontaine Player experience level: mentor Player play preference: rp-combat Message sent to all nobles of Perdan (41 recipients) - 7 days, 20 hours, 18 minutes ago The Coronation of King Smiddich III

"The oath is sacred. The oath is a promise. To reward the great people of this realm for believing you are fit to rule. As i read through each section you are to answer with 'I Will', this is to demonstrate you understand the burden of the oath and the weight it carries" - Sir Lucius Poe

Smiddich stood with his back to the throng, facing only the Seneschal. Behind him; through his armour and his cloak, he could sense the enormous excited energy from his knights. The room was incredibly still as the Lord Senescal asked his five questions.

From a down-on-his-luck adventurer, to a pirate corsair. A pardoned hedge knight becomes a Knight of the South. Betrayed, or a betrayer? He throws off his former loyalty and joins with the refugees three in Perdan. The black bladed Pirate Duke... finally accepting the highest station in this, the greatest of realms on the East Continent.

Five times, Sir Smiddich surely answered, "I will!"

Everlight

Seated comfortably with the other knights of Bescanon, Isana took in this new vantage of the gaudily decorated room and found herself in a thoughtful state of mind. She wondered where Sir Salem could be, as he was the only missing knight of Bescanon. She thought also on Sir Kenneth's conspiratory words and wondered what he was up to; it was likely to be something fun, if the smiling knight's past antics were anything to judge by. The Seneschal took the stage as she mused and commanded the attention of the populace.

Isana’s eyes roamed the stage while he spoke and found Alyssa, standing proud and tall in her shining armour, the white cape of mischief floating gently behind her. She grinned to herself at the naming of it, and at that moment Alyssa looked her way. They locked eyes and shared a smile. Isana felt that rushing tingle of love as she always did, and smiled even wider. She doesn't know the mischief that cape could get her into later…

Alyssa turned back to the matters at hand, so Isana let her eyes continue their delighted wander. Admiring her darling’s armoured form from afar, Isana noticed there was now a gold jewelled rod held carefully in her hands. She squinted. It was hard to tell from here, but that looked like the rod held by the official Lord of Perdan City. Now why would Aly be holding that? Is it part of the ceremony? She glanced about the stage for some other clue and found nothing helpful. She leaned forward around the large form of Berwin to ask Dustiria about it, but voices from the stage cut her short.

The ceremony onstage was reaching a crescendo. Duke, soon to be King, Smiddich Fontaine stood with his caped back to the crowd. His head was unadorned, his impressive hat being attended separately on its own cushion. Isana smirked at this detail as she listened. The broad-shouldered man was answering the Seneschal’s questions firmly, his deep voice rolling across the walls and back to the audience.

Will you swear to speak the truth even if your voice shakes? -Lucius Poe

“I will!” -Smiddich Fontaine

The words were left to echo around the chamber and followed by a tense silence of anticipation. Isana sat up straighter to see what happened next.

Poe

"The oath had been spoken!" Roared Lucius.

Lucius instructed the soon to be king to take a seat on the throne nearby that in just a few moments will be his.

"the time is nearly upon us so please indulge me a little longer as I say one last thing before we crown our new king...I've known Sir Smiddich a long time and in that time I would say it's been an honour to have known such a proud honest man and he honours me greatly by asking me to do this task for him. He honours the Poe name and owe him for finally letting me see my true purpose". Spoke Lucius, a tear falls down his cheek as he looks at the Duke and smiles.

Lucius picks up the crown from the nearby table and stands before Lord Smiddich. He slowly places the crown on his head and turns to face the crowd.

"ALL HAIL KING SMIDDICH" he exclaimed his eyes closed and arms outstretched.

Fontaine

"ALL HAIL KING SMIDDICH" he exclaimed his eyes closed and arms outstretched. - Sir Lucius Poe

Lord Smiddich, the pirate King, accepts the crown with a passingly magnanimous expression on his face, remaining seated and acknowledging the crowd as he takes up a sceptre of rank.

He smiles kindly and nods, trying to make eye contact with each knight in the crowd as he is able. The din is deafening, a raucous wall of sound and an almost heady calm comes over him.

He spies young Kenneth and Dustiria, whom he each counselled in courtship. His Marshalls, Rogos, Lorelai, Delphine and Ulric; ambitious and stalwart young leaders. The council, forming an honor guard on either side the stage; Alyssa, Benjamin, Lucius, the lifeblood of Perdan, protecting not only the honor and livelihood of his knights but her people as well. Sir Nemean, his new Ambassador and recently rival for the throne; enigmatic and lively.

And one lady in particular he owed much. For her, a warm smile and a lingering glance.

Yet, there were innumerable other knights, some new, some yet to achieve glory. All worthy and deserving of his protection, guidance and opportunity, should they only prove the equal to it.

The rest of the day is spend in extravagant celebration in food, wine and song. The city celebrates late into the evening, hosting coronation themed events and commemoration.

The King would send forth plans for change, soon, as he had pledged. A castle was sited and had only his say so to begin the construction. A subtle shift and sharing in the responsibility of his Lords and ladies was imminent, now that the heavy crown sat on his brow. It was jeweled, and very sharp.

Much like the international landscape at the moment, if handled badly, there would be blood.

Storme

The roar of the throne room of nobles shouting their approval, Long may he reign, À Perdana, long live the king. Lady Storme shouted once "À Perdana!" and clapped with the others as cheers abounded and outside the throne city bells began to ring again, having been silent since Kay's death.

On the throne sat the new King of Perdan, chosen by the people and loved by so many. Her breath caught in her throat as even standing in a crowd, small and dressed as she was he managed to seek her out and gift her a smile that made her heartbeat quicken and a genuine grin come unbidden.

Aila was proud of him, but felt silly saying so out loud to a man already so accomplished. Scared for him, but felt foolish telling him so as he could protect himself with ease. Excited for the future, but worried that like with so many of her hopes it was naive to express it.

All of this hid behind her smile as she the roar of the throne room's celebration carried on. If in the end this is all folly, she thought,

At least he is well loved.

Daubeny

Apollyon smiled and cheered “GLORY TO KING, GLORY TO PERDAN!”

Apollyon couldn’t help but join in the cry of “A Perdana”

He was proud to calm the man now sitting on that throne his king, he was proud to be a member of Perdan.

Chamberlain

As the formalities dissolved seamlessly into the bringing forth of drinks and treats, she excused herself from her friend. She was used too but not comfortable with being the gooseberry between the peacock and his maid.

Taking a goblet of a rather sickly sweet wine, being served far too warm, she scanned the room fr her fellow Paladins.

Daubeny

Apollyon caught sight of Vice Marshal Chamberlain scanning the crowd, he swiftly made his way over, he offered a bow “Lady Chamberlain, I am Ser Apollyon, If you have a moment I would have a word with you.” He offered a smile but he struggled to hide the look of concern in his eyes.

Dragoness

Banetal stood a bit away from the crowd. Amatarazé and Artemis at his sides.

The theme was "Armour" but h came to Perdan long before the Coronation was announced.

So he had no shiny armor, but only the on on his boat, a small Sloop called "Odin's Aygir"

An old fashioned leather armor - oiled and hardened several layers of leather, top layer formed in dragon scale pattern.

On sea you did not want to wear either plate nor mail, you drown for certain. Banetal assumed the Pirate Duke - now King - would appreciate his look - even as it was not as stylish as the Imperatrix armor.

MacArbin

"Long live the King! À Perdana!"

As the formality of the event gave way to the celebration with song and feasting, Kenneth made his way smoothly but quickly over to where the knights of Bescanon had gathered together. He needed to outpace Alyssa...He swooped in with a kiss for Dustiria, apparently caught up with the excitement of the historic moment, and then twirled around her before murmuring for a time with Isana while the cheers and hubub covered his words. His eyes and smile suggest he has some jest in mind, as does the wink he tosses his own lady while he speaks.

He pulled back, eyes searching Isana's, his grin staying steady but a careful observer (if one were to be found amidst the revelry) would notice his cinnamon eyes becoming anguished for just a moment before resuming their jovial crinkle.

Noire

"Long live the King! À Perdana!" Dustiria yells with the rest of them. Smidditch the one she wished to swear fealty too, was now king and she couldn't be happier. She blushes as Kenneth blocks her view of her charge and steals a kiss. His antics as he twirls even gets a smile before she returns to her vigilance. She catches the wink and the anguished look as she carefully scans the celebrants around her. That is something to ask about later.

Everlight

“À Perdana!"

Isana's ears rang from the reverberating cheers of the populace. She stood with her fellow knights of Bescanon, feeling wholly at home and proud of their great realm as voices rang out and celebrations began. She managed to catch Alyssa’s eyes among the throng and wrinkled her nose into a jovial grin, and her heart fluttered as she was rewarded with a quick wink and subtle smile from her dutiful love still at attention on the dais.

Sir Kenneth appeared from the crowd and Dustiria twirled in front of her. Isana smiled and clapped along with the happy pair, feeling bright and giddy in the midday light among the roaring crowd and ostentatious surroundings. She remembered Kenneth had said something about speaking after, though the words had sounded serious his countenance was animated mischief.

She turned to ask him about it and found his face near hers with a smile, his warm brown eyes earnest. He spoke quietly for several moments, words lost to any but her in the din of the hall. Isana’s green-blue gaze darkened as he spoke, flicking away to the stage and back. Any watching would see her murmur something back with a shake of her head and rest one hand briefly on his forearm. She smiled warmly at the end of the exchange, though her eyes were solemn and focused as an infantry frontline awaiting battle.

Kingsley

Alyssa exhaled as the ceremony came to a close, joining in with the chorus of cheers at the King's crowning. As the crowd began to mingle, Alyssa caught her eye again, gripping the rod in her hands a bit tighter. Her other knights still stood together, as she stepped briskly towards Isana's side in the crowd, her white cape flowing behind her. Another stood with them however as Lord Kenneth had leaned in close to say something to her partner. Perhaps concerning. Though she shook the thought from her mind. Kenneth had showed her kindness of late, and she trusted Isana utterly, with her whole heart and all her being. Still, never a fan of whispers, she misliked his closeness to the woman she loved and a pang of protectiveness came over her.

As she came near she saw Dustiria step in and give her lord a sweet kiss and a smile. Alyssa mentally kicked herself. Ah... of course. He has been kinder with her, more... grounded. It is only natural he would be near her among my knights. She bit her teeth at that as she stood infront of her knights and the Lord of Nascot. They looked at her then the rod.

"Ah... 'Sana-dear, Lord Kenneth, Dustiria, Sir Berwin, Sir Graham."

Isana beamed as she often did at Alyssa's appearance, and Alyssa held out her hand which the other accepted graciously as their fingers so easily intertwined.

"An interesting token, My Lady." Sir Graham, her castellan said knowingly. "A kind gift."

Alyssa gulped and nodded. "Indeed." The others looked curiously at the jeweled scepter, golden and inlaid with gems, a gaudy mismatch to the plain modest steel she wore. "Ehm.." Alyssa continued, standing tall and proud among her love and some of her closest peers.

"This is the Rod of Perdan." She said a bit stiffly "It is held by the commander of the city."