Chapter Fourteen: Coronation Day
Tranith Argan: Book 2
Preparation for the coronation of Felanar as King of Tranith Argan has ended. The big day is here at last. Not everyone is pleased.
Canar knocked on the heavy wooden door inside one of the western wings of the palace. This was the door to Anarth’s new living quarters, now that his old rooms were taken by the king. Anarth had acquiesced quietly when he was informed of this change, for he had expected it from the start. It hurt no less for having been expected, however, and the hurt made his heart ache. Many a night had been spent in this new room, far from the throne, contemplating his new life as assistant to the king. It was a hard fall for the former regent.
Canar knocked again. A voice from inside commanded him gruffly to enter and he did so. The old man was sitting on a chair near the bed, staring down at the floor. He did not look up as Canar closed the door behind him.
“It is almost time for the ceremony, Anarth. Are you ready?”
Anarth continued to stare downward scowling like someone who had drunk soured milk.
“Am I to be called by my first name like some commoner?” he growled. Slowly he raised his head to stare at Canar. Canar bowed deeply.
“I mean no disrespect, honorable regent, but it is not safe to call you by your true and rightful title when anyone can overhear. To all in the palace you are the good-hearted Anarth, kindly helping Felanar learn the ways of the throne. They think you are a valued ally, and at this time it would serve no purpose to call you by a title that they think you no longer possess. It would give them ideas.”
His voice trailed off as he finished that last sentence. Anarth got the point and nodded.
“Ideas are all they have,” said Anarth through clenched teeth. “Ideas of conquest, and thrones, and kingdoms, and rulership.”
“Ah,” said Canar with a sly smile, “they may have ideas, but that is all they have. What did you think of Ravesfel’s proof of genealogy?”
Anarth’s eyes narrowed and he looked inquiringly at Canar mixed with some uncertainty. He seemed to be wrestling within himself over this very issue. He turned away and stared into space. When he finally spoke, he could barely be heard.
“What do you make of it, Canar?”
“If I may be so bold, regent, I think it a fake. A piece of parchment unnoticed for centuries, just happening to stick to the back of one of the genealogical rolls? A worker in he kitchen just happening to stumble upon it? From the kitchen? I think it to be a story told by a man who seeks power and will stop at nothing to achieve his aims. If I may be so bold, that is.”
Anarth seemed strengthened by this reply, and he sat up straight.
“Then this impostor shall be dealt with.”
“Indeed he will, regent, and in the best possible way. He almost certainly goes to his death in Shanaar. You will hold the kingdom together in his absence, and the people will clamor for your benevolent reign once again when the news of his sad death reaches our walls. In the meantime, however, you must be seen as his ally in all ways. Starting with the ceremony, which we will attend late if we do not start now.”
Anarth stood up, gathered his ceremonial robe around him tightly, and followed his faithful servant Canar toward the balcony where the ceremony was to be held.
• • •
Noon approached, and with it the time for the ceremony to begin. Felanar and Alessa had returned to the throne room after her tour of the palace. He was reviewing in his mind what he had to do during the ceremony when he heard a knock on the door. Thinking it to be Ravesfel, he was surprised when Kara appeared.
“Look, Felanar, our family has arrived at the last moment!” she cried out. Indeed, behind her, looking very uncertain, stood Chafrar and Sera. In addition, to Felanar’s delight, behind them stood Alak and his wife and young son. Felanar leapt off the throne and ran to embrace his parents.
Chafrar and Sera had returned to Brindledown shortly after the battle of Tranith Argan had been fought. No amount of reasoning could change Chafrar’s mind, for he wanted to be home again. Sera, too, felt the need for home more strongly than fear of reprisal from the enemy. The defeat of the enemy at Tranith Argan gave them every reason to think they would be safe. Now they had been summoned by Ravesfel to travel to the city to see their adopted son become king. They were glad to see Felanar and Kara, of course, but thoroughly intimidated by being surrounded by High Men and their ways.
Felanar turned to Alak, seeing him for the first time since Alak had learned his younger brother was actually king. Alak looked at him cautiously, a mixture of confusion and apprehension. But Felanar would have none of that and embraced his brother with true warmth and feeling. Alak felt the tension melt away in the embrace and leaned hard into his brother, the weight of emotion overcoming him.
“Am I to bow?” he asked with genuine awe when they separated.
“Normally, yes, the people bow before me, Alak,” responded Felanar. “Yet if you do so now you will make me feel terribly uncomfortable. You are my older brother, and will always be thus. I see no reason to pretend anything else.”
Felanar hugged Alak’s young wife, who was even more intimidated. She looked at Alessa with a touch of fear. Seeing this, Sera grabbed her hand and led her over to the Findáran princess.
“Come here, Feld. I want you to meet the sweetest person you will ever know. Don’t be frightened. Yes, she is an elf, but all those stories you know about elves are wrong. Come.”
Alessa made her clear, musical laugh, and smiled warmly at the young Brindledown woman being half-dragged toward her. She reached out with her arms, the flowing garment rustling slightly, and took Feld’s hands in hers.
“It is an honor to meet a relative of the king, Feld. I am Alessa, daughter of Llarand. Do not worry, we elves are kind to stranger and friend alike. Especially to family of those we care about.”
Felanar’s heart soared as she said this, but he said nothing.
Feld, her red hair pulled back in a simple bun, and her dress made of simple village cloth, let Alessa take her trembling hands. As she did so, a great calm came over her, one that she later described to her village friends as feeling as if she had too much ale, but wasn’t drunk either. Just relaxed, is how she felt. Alessa stared into Feld’s eyes, not probing, but with a reassuring gaze, as if she were imparting strength to Feld. For Feld’s part, all she could do was to stare into those eyes with that faint inner light. It was a unique experience for this simple girl. When Alessa let go, Feld’s knees buckled for a moment, and then she righted herself and mumbled something about being pleased to meet Alessa.
Alessa also greeted Alak with kindness, and embraced Sera and Chafrar, even though they had seen each other quite recently.
Ravesfel entered the room to signal it being time for the ceremony to begin. He happily greeted Felanar’s family and arranged for a servant to show them where to stand in order to watch the ceremony among the other notable guests. They were led away, half in a daze.
“I will depart now as well, Felanar,” said Alessa. “I very much look forward to seeing you inherit the throne today. I am very proud of you.”
She briefly embraced the young king and walked out of the room. Felanar was left with Kara and Ravesfel.
“You feel comfortable with the ceremony?” the guardian asked. “You remember what to do?”
“Comfortable enough, I would say,” Felanar said. “I am ready.”
“Then come, Kara, let us take our places and let your brother have his day of glory.”
• • •
Noon arrived, the bells of the highest tower tolling the hours one by one. Down in the square below the palace, the vast crowd gradually ceased talking until the loud roar of their voices diminished to almost nothing, with just the occasional infant bawling being heard on the light breeze. For a winter’s day, it wasn’t very cold and bright sunshine beat down upon the celebrants. It was as if the weather itself was rejoicing.
Trumpets sounded, their call echoing through the city streets and in the surrounding valley. The crowd jostled each other as they craned their necks to get a good view. Children sat on the shoulders of their parents. Fingers pointed to the balcony where already the notables were standing. Elf and dwarf stood side by side with High Men. This augurs well for Argan, said some in the crowd. Look, they pointed, even water elf are present, there off to the left of the balcony. Look, said others, but there are Low Men present. Why even the outlying countryside rejoices with our king, said some. Others grumbled about Low Men being on the balcony while they stood below. Still others called for everyone to be quiet for voices could now be heard from above.
“People of Tranith Argan, and of the kingdom of Argan, Delendor and the golden lakes, Talenar with Irular Istan, and the mountains of Khrea, rejoice in this day!”
A great roar went up from the crowd. Banners flew in the breeze. People waved their arms at the balcony. The speaker, who was Tain, the captain of the High Guards, continued.
“Rejoice in this day for today a king has been given to us once again.”
Again he was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd.
“People of Argan,” Tain said again, holding his arms up for silence, “I present to you the one who served as regent of the throne, and protector of Argan in the king’s absence: Anarth!”
Loud shouts of approval were heard over the cheering that erupted again. The people were indeed grateful to Anarth for serving all those years, and they were glad of this opportunity to express it. Anarth, moving toward the front of the balcony, soaked in the adulation and felt himself genuinely moved. He stared down at the throng of people, his people he reminded himself, and felt the wave of emotion they expressed pass over him like a fragrant spring breeze. He closed his eyes and felt the power once again. Then he raised his arms and spoke.
“People of Argan, I have tried to serve you faithfully all of my life…”
“Hurrah!” cried some in the crowd.
“…and I have longed for the day when once again we would see a king on the throne.”
“Hurrah!” cried even more.
“For lifetime after lifetime this has been a wish made in vain. Always we have known that a king would return to us, for a king we have always known. Not once has it been suggested that we cease our vigilant watchfulness, or dare to usurp what was not ours by right. Nay, but in trust we have kept the throne awaiting the day when he who can rightfully claim it would return, and the kingdom of Argan once again be made strong as in days of old.
“We know of the kings of legend, and now a legendary heir of the throne is with us, and I cannot serve you as regent any longer. My duty is done, and I gladly pass to the side as we hand the kingdom to he who is legally, truly and rightfully king.”
As the people cheered once more, Anarth reached over to a page standing near him on the balcony. The page held an ornate golden box, encrusted with jewels. Seeing Anarth reach for this box, the crowd went silent. For here was the fabled box that held the crown, not seen by the people of Argan in a thousand years. It gleamed in the sunlight as the people held their breath. Anarth slowly opened the doors of gold and pulled out from inside the crown of Argan. He turned back to the crowd, held the crown high above his head, and stood there motionless as the people stared in wonder at it.
Anarth now turned back toward the others on the balcony, and watched as Ravesfel walked slowly toward him. Anarth handed the crown to the guardian. Ravesfel took the crown and stood there while Anarth walked to the side, standing next to the captains of Argan.
Turning to the crowd, Ravesfel began to recite the names of the long distant kings.
“These are the kings of the throne of Argan in the Fourth Era of our reckoning, as the history books tell us, and I personally attest as eyewitness to their reigns.”
In a deep, booming voice he began to recite the names:
“Kal-Alorim, founder of the kingdom of Argan. Defender of our land, and cherished in our hearts as The Golden.
“Kal-Ara, called The Jewel, for in his day the kingdom was made beautiful.
“Kal-Dalonur, The Strong, who extended our borders and made our enemies weak.
“Kal-Oronur, called among us The Lesser in comparison to his father, but strong in doing what was right.
“Kal-Carunir, the heir unworthy, called The Weak, and cut down for his treachery. In his short reign, much that was ours lay open to the enemy.
“Alanisir, known as The Cunning for the way he seized the throne from his brother. He was clever, but the enemy made great inroads in his day
“Al-Dulomir, his son, The Powerful, who reigned for seventy years and cast back the power of the enemy. In his day, Argan reached its zenith, for never before nor since has the kingdom flowered as it did during his reign of peace.
“Al-Sapir, The Wise, who foresaw trouble and acted to prevent it, protecting the land from the fleet of the westerners.
“Al-Carnitor, who for his long reign full of industry, was called The Builder.
“Al-Supir, the last king of Argan, known forever as The Indecisive, for it was in the last days of his reign that the kingship fell to the enemy, and then it was that the dark days began.”
Ravesfel paused as his words settled on the crowd below. These names were the names of history books, what every schoolchild learned. Some were loved, cherished, and looked upon with great pride. Others were named with sadness, or scorn. After so long without a king, however, even a bad name carried with it the weight of majesty, for no man since had ever held such power.
“Today,” Ravesfel continued, “we begin the reign of a new king, one descended from the royal line of Argan. What name he will come to hold, history will tell us, for only in history is one’s true worth told. Having seen him since his birth, and having overseen his training, I look forward to his reign. May he be viewed as The Wise, The Powerful, and The Just, all in one!”
A great cheer rose from the crowd in assent. Ravesfel waited for the sound to die before signaling for Felanar to step forward. The crowd grew completely silent. Felanar stood next to Ravesfel as the guardian continued.
“People of Argan, I give to you this day your king and rightful heir of the throne: Felanar, son of Renular of Delendor, son of Lanarth, son of Poranan. Here is your king, heir of the line from Kal-Alorim. King of Tranith Argan, Tranith Toar, Tranith Heron, king of Argan, and Delendor and the golden lakes, and Talenar, and Irular Istan, and all of Khrea that belongs to men.”
As he said this, Felanar stepped forward and faced the crowd. Then he turned toward Ravesfel and knelt down before him. Ravesfel held aloft the crown, its plain gold design flashing in the light. Slowly the guardian lowered the crown on Felanar’s head.
“People of Argan,” Ravesfel said, “Felanar, your king!”
Felanar stood up and faced the crowd again. At once the mass erupted into cheers that dwarfed the earlier ones. People yelled triumphantly and waved their arms. Tears streamed down the faces of some, and others sobbed with joy. People hugged each other, husbands kissed wives, and mothers kissed children. The whole valley echoed with intense happiness for almost ten minutes of uninterrupted cheering. Felanar stood the whole time watching the scene with awe and joy.
Felanar finally held up his arms to silence the crowd, something that still took a minute to accomplish for the people were overjoyed that their king was asking them to do something. When they had, at last, become quiet enough for him to speak, he addressed his subjects.
“People of Argan, I share your joy this day. I am humbled by your response toward me, and I hope to serve in a manner that makes you proud to once again have a king on the throne.”
“A cheer for the king!” rang out a voice, and the people cheered lustily.
“As king, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge those who aided my journey to this point. If it weren’t for them, I would not be present, and you would have no king. The kingdom of Argan owes a debt to the Llaráin, the elves, both Findára and Erenár.”
As he gestured with his arm toward Llarand, Narón and the other elves standing on the balcony, the people cheered enthusiastically. They all knew the role that the elves had played in saving the city just a month ago, and they appreciated their king’s acknowledging this. It showed the sign of a wise ruler some said to others standing nearby.
“Argan should be grateful to the wise counsel given to every king this kingdom has ever known by our faithful guardian, Ravesfel. He is to be praised highly.”
The people cheered for the guardian and Ravesfel bowed solemnly toward Felanar, but his eyes held a smile.
“Argan should also be grateful to the service given all his life by Anarth, a most wise regent, and ruler who held the throne at the ready for my arrival. He is to be given great honor all his days.”
He gestured toward the old regent standing to the side, and again the people cheered him with their cries of support.
“Finally, good people of Argan, I wish to introduce to you someone else of great importance. Indeed, this is another heir to the throne of Argan, and therefore should be afforded the same respect and honor I receive. Thanks should be shown, too, for she has already saved my life. My sister, heir of the throne of Argan, Kara.”
Kara stepped forward, looked out over the crowd, and felt embarrassed as they cheered loudly for her. She endured their praise, however, and turned to her brother and smiled warmly and with thanks for not forgetting her in the ceremony.
Felanar let the people cheer as long as they wanted, for this cheer was for Kara, and it felt good to have her acknowledged fully. Finally, as the noise subsided, he raised his arms again and continued his speech.
“People of Argan, we have recently triumphed when our great city was under attack. With the aid of our friends the Llaráin, and with your stalwart defense, the enemy was routed and the city held as it always has and always will. As you have seen, now new troops have arrived at our city, and an invasion force of our own is being prepared. I announce to you today that soon we advance on Shanaar, and will defeat the enemy who wishes us ill and brings death to our doors. This time, it is his doors that will see death.”
The crowd yelled its support at this. Word among the city had been on invasion, but who and what were elements that had been rumors up until now. They now saw that their young king was a decisive ruler, and strong in power. They rejoiced in this news and it took Felanar several attempts to quiet them down so as to continue.
“I share your enthusiasm for this task, for it is long coming. My own life has been threatened by this enemy, and our fair city has endured his hatred over the centuries. Now he shall be brought to heel and we shall have the mastery over him at last. We are aided in this by our allies the elves and the dwarves. Together, our three peoples will drive evil from this world until we can all live in peace and prosperity. As king, I will see to it.
“I wish to make, then, one last announcement this day. As I will be leading the invasion forces, I wish to designate the person who will sit on the throne in my absence, and make all decisions in my name. I hereby name Kara, sister to me, and full heir of the throne of Argan, and defender of the realm. She is wise, my people, and strong. She will defend the city with honor and power, and you will find in her an able ruler in her own right. Give her the honor and respect you would afford me, and I will consider it as having been given to me directly.”
Kara blushed as he said these words, but she faced the people with pride and looked out upon the people she would lead in Felanar’s absence. The people, in a joyous mood all morning, and beside themselves with happiness during the ceremony, cheered just as loudly for this announcement as they had for anything else. The idea of a women leading them temporarily, though unprecedented, seemed a fine concept, and they took to this young, beautiful woman with great enthusiasm.
Less joyous was Anarth, for whom this announcement came as a thunderclap. He tried not to let his displeasure show, but inside he was seething at this foiling of his plan. Canar, standing amidst the lesser dignitaries, was also surprised. Evidently this young ruler was not as trusting as he had appeared. This required more thought, he realized.
The ceremony came to an end as a flock of white birds were released over the crowd. The people cheered as Felanar and Kara slowly walked back inside the palace, followed by the dignitaries. As Felanar passed Ravesfel, the guardian said quietly, “Well done.”
“You will watch over her in my absence?” the king asked, just as quietly.
“I will. Do not worry, she will be safe.”