Book 3, Chapter 29: The Crown and Sword
The day had come. I was at the armorers, having them dress me. Only they knew how, for this armor was unlike any that had come before it.
“Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but this, uh, dagger?” The smith was holding the plain dagger I’d received from the former Bechalle captain of the guard. Captain Thrace.
“Yes, this dagger.”
“It, excuse me, doesn’t match with the, uhm regality of your attire.”
Right. He didn’t know the significance of the blade. It was plain, even slightly rusty, which to my contrarian mind made a nice contrast. Anyways, I had to wear it to show the former Bechalle troops they were fully welcomed by me. “It’s the symbol of the Bechalle castle soldiers.”
“Ah. Then perhaps a nice sheathe to encase the blade itself?” He reached over to a nearby drawer, pulling out a smooth and well-oiled tan leather sheathe.
“Actually, just a loop. I want the blade visible.”
“Your Highness.” If he gave a disapproving glance, I didn’t notice. I didn’t have to, being the princess.
None of my companions were here. Morry, Tread, Brin, the ladies on waiting. Not allowed, for this was a surprise. All were in attendance, at the cathedral to the god whose name I never bothered to learn. Everyone was there. The Laemacian and Barclay ambassadors, my soon to be bannermen, Earls Hafthon, Carlisele and Crygmore, many suitors, my generals, majors. Everyone who had power. And their annoying sons.
From the armorers to the cathedral, my soldiers lined the street on either side. Standing at attention, the first two drew their swords smoothly as I emerged from the armorer, raised toward each other to form a bladed ceiling. It was like dominoes. Down the line, swords were drawn overhead, snaking along until the double doors of the cathedral.
I walked through their protective salute, sun glinting off the steel, my footsteps chiming with each step, metal against stone. Steady, I held my pace, as if to a drumbeat.
Commoners, farmers, smiths, lined up behind the troops, cheering. Chattering, lots and lots of whispered words. “Who is that?” “That’s the princess! Soon to be queen!” “What is she wearing?” “I don’t know.”
The cawing of ravens caught my attention before the cathedral. Stopping, I looked up. Nearby soldiers followed my gaze. Ravens were flocking to the building, landing on it, facing my direction. It was an eerie sight, hundreds of black eyes on me, unmoving.
I don’t know what came over me, but I held my gauntleted hand up in salute. The ravens cawed as one, leapt into the air and circled the cathedral. It, equally oddly, brought a smile to my face as I resumed my march.
The last two soldiers pulled apart the enormous wooden doors. Heads turned at the sound, the crowd collectively gasped.
No one here had ever seen full set of Renaissance plate mail armor. Gleaming steel, nearly silver in color, polished almost to a mirror finish, like a knight out of an Arthurian legend, I entered.
Solid metal greaves ringing out with each step as I walked down the aisle, my legs and arms fully encased in brilliant metal, joints likewise protected by movable shells, mirror and white steel chest plate narrowed at my waist above wide hips, giving me a feminine appearance. Two steel breasts, slightly larger than my own, as an indulgence and totally useless in combat, I was a figure out of a problematic, idealizing game. Formidable, untouchable, sexual. And a sword at my hip.
High neck guards, attached to each shoulder, rotated with each arm swing. A moving metal tank, nearly invulnerable to the weaponry of this world. I don’t know what I looked like to these people, but I felt like a goddamn legend.
The metal rang out one last time as I stopped in front of the steps leading up to the altar, in front of the waiting archbishop, dressed in robes like the Pope, high hat and all. Going down to one knee on the steps, I took off my helmet and set it in front of my right knee, spilling my black and blue hair out across the shining steel.
The archbishop’s voice echoed throughout the cathedral. “Cayce Navarre, you come before us a princess. A princess has few responsibilities and owes little to the kingdom.”
I paused, for it was the first time I’d heard my family’s last name. “Yes, Archbishop.”
“As a princess, you were a child. Cared for by the people. Nurtured in trust. A sacred trust which has now come to fruition. You have come here among witnesses, in front of the people, to be a child no more.”
“Yes.”
“Cayce Navarre, will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of your kingdom, the kingdom of Navarrelund, and the dominions therein, according to a higher morality, above the temptations and evils of mankind?”
“I do.”
“Will you use your power for just cause, law and mercy executed in all your judgments?”
“I will.”
“Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the laws of the land, uphold the rights and privileges of your people, in front of this church, this assembly of people, and the many peoples under your governance?”
“I swear it.”
“Let it be said that this is a holy ritual, a sacrament, that it cannot be questioned by anyone, that the once Princess Cayce is now, and forever, Heir Presumptive Royal Majesty. Arise, Crown Princess Cayce. One year hence, upon your ascension to adulthood, you will be Queen. Forever our blessings on you and long may you rule.”
He placed the crown, a circle of gold with a single, sparkling diamond in the center, atop my head. I’d like to think the light sparkling from it temporarily blinded some in the audience.
I rose. Put my hand upon the archbishop’s shoulder as I passed him, up the steps, and turned to face the people. Sitting. Rows and rows of nobles in their court fineries. My generals and majors, my ladies, and ladies in waiting. Looking at them, their awe and silence, accepting my place as their monarch, I took a deep breath, steeled myself for what I was about to do, to change this world forever.
“My people. I will rule justly and with care. But first, we have a kingdom to retake. Come spring, we are taking back our lands and, I swear to all that is holy,” I was shaking at this point, caught up in the fury I projected loudly into the audience, “we will expand our kingdom!”
The audience cheered loudly, many raised their fists, and I basked in it.
Ringing steel as I drew my sword, its gold and charcoal blade scintillating and bright in my hand, the crowd cowed into silence. Holding it steady, blade pointed up, crosspiece flat to the audience, arm bent at the elbow, I raised my voice and heard it echo against the walls, “Any man. Anyone. Who would bear arms for the crown, who would own property, who would fight for this kingdom step forth and become a noble!”
Many of the nobles, the earls and counts, gasped. Etienne stood. Others followed one by one, then the whole in attendance.
“General Morrentz, step forward.” He did. “Kneel.” The big man knelt. I placed my sword over his right shoulder. “In the name of your crown,” his left, “your kingdom,” his right again, “and your honor, will you swear to protect the land and the innocent, never to do evil, to uphold the law and act in a just and moral manner?”
“I do.”
“Kiss the blade.”
In his gauntleted hand, he brought the shining gold and charcoal blade to his lips.
“Rise, Morrentz, with ‘Sir’ as your lawful title. Sir Morrentz, first knight of the Princess. You now have the right to bear arms and own property and, in accordance with your good deeds, to be exalted to a higher noble status.” The crowd erupted in cheers and yelling, some in anger, and a line suddenly began to form behind Morry. I hastily added, “And the power to knight others whom you deem worthy of your station.”
He spoke, loud enough only for me to hear, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Get up here and knight some of these men.” I turned to crowd, “General Brundle, please come forward.”
Morry passed me, whispering, “You’ve kicked a hornet’s nest. The earls.”
I didn’t need to look at them to know their gazes held nothing but anger. “Yes. The weight of the crown and all that. Knight as many as you can, get them knighting others.”
His face became slightly more grim than usual. “As you wish.”
Through my teeth, “I goddamn well wish!”
Brundle reached the stairs, gave me the ‘Holy, but what a mess you’ve gotten us into’ look, and knelt in front of me and we undertook the ritual.
After Brundle, I found my faithful boy and shouted, “Tread, come forth.”
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