The Holiest of Faces

Situated in a large central plaza of Kilou Street, the Basilica of Esto Gaza rises high up into the sky, it spires and towers nearly piercing the heavens. The Basilica of Esto Gaza is one of the oldest buildings in the city, and since the Rlugia dynasty has sat upon the throne of the Kingdom, it has served as the Cathedral where the Kings of Serdio are crowned and anointed in an elaborate ceremony. It also serves as the home and central location of the Zelphis Church: it here that the Patriarch of the Zelphis Church resides to carry out all the ritual ceremonies carried with one of the most ancient religions in all of Zelpha, modified for the needs of the Serdian people.

The Basilica is built in the Gothic style of many older Cathedrals. Instead of cheery colors and rocks, the Basilica is built with duller lime, granite, brick, and other hard stones, painted a slight brown for uniformity. All around the church are vast windows of stained glass--shimmering on the outside and providing a glare of hope. The Basilica stretches upwards, over four stories, and at the top lie two twin towers, and within those towers two superb bells of Crystalline, which ring every hour on the hour, as well as on the Sabbath.

In the inside of the Basilica is vast and spacious, lavishly decorated as befitting of the central home of Zelphis. The destruction which the Church had faced under the Terror seems long gone, the objects that were destroyed quickly replaced. The first floor is filled with vast pews, relics, and other items dedicated to the church: while the upper tiers are far more leisurely activities, such as feasts and parties. The Basilica is grandiose, a lasting testament to Zelphis.

The Basilica swam gracefully into view as hundreds upon hundreds of vehicles, ranging from ornate carriages pulled by curt stallions, to T-model cars. Aside from the Serdian nobility, all the nobles of Sade were turning out to see the coronation of Drake. This was because the coronation of Drake would also mean the beginning of Sade--in essence, he would also take his place as Emperor of the Confederation. The streets were packed, and cries of all sorts filled the air. Yet despite this, a quiet seemed to come from the Basilica, broken only by the sounds of the religious hymns and chants so favored by the clerics.

Drake sat in an ornate carriage, alone. The protocol for coronations were extremely strict, and Drake was allowed to have no one with him, not even his family. His carriage rode ahead of the rest, at the head of the vast aristocratic procession. Aside from the nobles, it seemed as if the whole of Sade had converged into the capital. From his window, Drake caught sight of an array of people. How many people would turn out for this historic event? The procession was larger, and even more glamorous than his original coronation; but of course, in those days Serdio did not have much wealth. This coronation was not just funded by Serdian gold, but indeed, gold from across Sade.

---

The Duke of Méran stood near the entrance of the Basilica as the Imperial procession drew closer. Standing next to him was not just his wife, but also the Archbishop of Esto Gaza, René Doir. The Mérans stood in great splendor, the Duke grinning from ear to ear. Aside from his already large array of prestigious appointments, he had played a vital role in setting up the coronation, the coronation feast which would follow, and had also been given a role in the coronation it's self. He could only sigh with happiness. How much profit the Restoration had brought him!

René Doir was far less happy. His appointment to the Archdiocese had been totally unexpected, and frustrating. As a man of nearly one-hundred years, René was tired and did not wish for a cushy position in the midst of the city. He had been pleased enough with the Diocese in Yalyn, despite it's poverty, and in recent months, the White Terror against the radicals. Yet the Archdiocese of the city had been vacant since the days of the Consul, and the Archbishop was vital to the coronation. Thus, the Prime Minister of Serdio, his old friend Shayaateen, took no time in suggesting René to the position, to which Drake complied.

The confusion which surrounded the Basilica was only furthered when Drake was the first to alight from his carriage. Guided by several young choir boys lavished in white, the king was led to the front of the Basilica, where the Archbishop and the Mérans stood in baited breath for their sovereign. Once Drake reached them, the coronation unofficially began, with it's rounds of complicated court ritual from the days of Graith. First, Drake bowed curtly to the Archbishop and Méran (who served as 'Steward for the Coronation') to have the same low kowtow preformed in return.

"Hail Lunaria, full of grace, the Gods are with thee; blessed art thou among women." The Duchess of Méran replied in a saintly way towards the king. Aside from being a lay ceremony, the coronation was filled with religious and theological scriptures, as the monarchy, and indeed, the monarch, was seen as a divine gift from the Gods.

"Holy Lunaria, Goddess of the Night, pray for us sinners, and aid us when we are in need of rest." Replied Drake in the same manner. Once more, a round of bows were exchanged, and most of the Imperial Court had finished dismounting. A large procession now stood to watch the coronation unfold. The Archbishop took his next step, holding an Ampule of the sacred oils used to consecrate the to-be monarch before he entered the church.

"Will his majesty accept these consecrations, ordained by the Gods, so that you may undergo the trials in order to begin your reign?"

Drake could only nod. "I shall."

The Archbishop applied the oil to the King's head in a Saintly fashion, making the signs of the Zelphis prayer. The Archbishop broke into the next portion of the coronation with no wait.

"I ask that at this time all present recite the following prayer: 'Oh heavenly Gods, protect our king, Drake, the first of that name, so that he may have a peaceful and fruitful reign; so that he may lead Serdio to glory and prosperity; and so that he may usher in an era which we have yet seen. May Serdio flourish and grow; may she fight and thrive in the gardens of Zelpha.'"

The Empress and the Imperial family had followed up towards the front of the procession. Sabriel, Helen, Frederick, Leto I, Katerina and Irulan were all together in one carriage. Behind them, in another carriage was Julia, Brennan and Drake’s sisters. Leto Letovitch was still absent. The extended members of the Royal family rode in a third carriage. Behind this were all the other members of the Imperial court.

The Imperial family alighted during the first moments of the coronation, as did the rest of the court (and the citizenry, in general).

The Empress wore a gown of Victorian design. The bodice was of pure white silk, deep cut and heavily embroidered with beads of pearl. The gown also featured tulip sleeves of creamy gauze. The skirt was tight, made of satin and of the same color as the gauzy sleeves. Instead of a full bustle, the Empress wore an enormous faux-bustle that lent the dress an almost titanic aspect. She wore gloves and a diamond tiara.

The Emperor was dressed in fully Jaran garb (perhaps to balance out the Serdian dress of his sister). There were, however, a few changes to accommodate the color schemes of the coronation. His shirt was the typical shirt of a Dyan-mandarin collar, poet sleeves with heavy embroidery. Yet, instead of the shirt being bright red, it was an almost ghostly white. And instead of the embroidery bearing nearly every color of the rainbow, it only featured silver and gold thread. He wore a sash of blue across the front, to represent him rule over both Kaja Meria and Jaran Meria. His pants were black, with a blue satin stripe running down the side of each leg. These were stuffed into knee length black boots that were polished so much that they reflected everything in their brilliant surface. Around his waist, the Emperor wore a thick leather belt, from which hung the bejeweled state sword of Hayholt, for the Dyan of the Jaran, Emperor of Meria was also Rei Henka of Hayholt. In difference to Drake, the Emperor of Meria didn’t wear the State Crown, but instead held it under one arm.

Helen was pale, but recovered. Her golden locks were swept up though she wore no tiara or grown. Her dress was white, as well. The Bodice was tight and embroidered in a manner similar to her mothers. However, instead of a bustle, her gown included an embroidered pannier that draped artfully over the long narrow skirt of white silk. The Princesses neckline was portrait style, and of light gauze, like her mother’s. She too wore gloves.

Irulan was dressed, like her husband, in Jaran Garb. She wore the high golden crown, covered with a gauze veil, and the greco gown of light, white cotton embroidered in pearl. She too wore a blue sash and, in proper lady like fashion, the Jaran harem pants which had (again) grown to a huge size.

The Royal family watched the preceding ceremonies of the coronation closer than the rest of the populace. They said the prayer and then waited for the next portion of the ceremony.

(OOC: Is this happening in the basilica, or like, on the steps outside the basilica?)

OOC: Outside, on the steps. This is the...warm-up? I suppose, which occurs before the actual ceremony begins, inside.

With the end of the prayer for the King, the Archbishop made a motion towards a valet. For a moment, the whole scene was tense, until from within the interior several chords of Te Deum were sang, high and heavenly by the various young men and boys, for the Basilica forbade women from a singing position. The heavenly song reached high into the sky, piercing the hearts and souls of all those present at the religious ceremony. Archbishop Doir took his chance to further the ceremony, when the last chords of the hymn fell silent.

"Let us now proceed into the hallowed halls of the Basilica so that we may continue this most sacred of ceremonies. We lay down the protocol of the coronations of old. First shall enter the Archbishop and the Steward; second shall be his majesty; third his family. From there, we shall follow the estates. The First Estate* shall have entrance after the Imperial Families, the Second Estate** following the First, and all the rest*** following that."

The doors to the Cathedral were flung open, and the Archbishop, clutching his crucifix made his entrance with the Mérans. As they entered, chords of De profundis were struck up and next went Drake. The songs were shuffled, as each caste was allowed entrance in the Cathedral...

---

Over two hours were exhausted on the archaic ritual of entrance into the coronation. Following Drake had come his family and other relatives. Following that, all the aristocracy, with their plums and riches came second. Following the vast array of nobles came the holy men, the clerics, bishops, monks, nuns, and others that came to pray for the soul of Drake. Following that, came the rest of those who came to see the vast coronation. The Basilica was crowded, and at it's head, near the pulpit stood the Archbishop, Méran, and the King (who had changed into his coronation regelia during the various peoples' entrance into the Basilica).

With a wave of his holy symbol, Archbishop Doir spoke again.

"The three symbols vital to the monarchy are the crown, orb, and scepter. The crown represents legitimacy, power, and strength for the monarch. The orb represents Serdio and the Zelphis Church, and the protectorate which his majesty holds over us. Lastly is the scepter, from which his power is drawn. Your majesty, will you accept these symbols and your divine right to rule?"

"I shall." Drake replied in a solemn voice.

The Archbishop smiled, and Drake bowed low, to have the state crown of Serdio placed upon his head. When he was ordered to rise, the orb was placed into his left hand, the scepter given to his right. As a lasting symbol to his right to rule, the Archbishop removed a golden oil from the Host of Saint Ezmerelda, and dotted it upon the King's forehead.

"As a symbol of fidelity and love, the consort of the king should receive the blessing of power from her very husband."

Sabriel, who had been guided into a niche of Basilica upon her entrance, was now instructed to go before her Lord Husband to receive his blessings. While the people waited, another cord of Te Deum was struck up.

*The nobility
**The Clergy
***All other people, the bourgeois middle class, peasants, ect

Sabriel waited, but she was unhappy. Indeed she had objected to this portion of the ceremony most of all.

Her initial plans for the coronation had been hijacked, both by her husband and by the Duke Meran. She had planned to crown Drake, as it had been her money and her supplies that had essential reestablished the Monarchy.

She had also planned for the ritual to be steeped in references to Sade as a whole and the office of President that, as King, drake would also occupy. However, no matter what she suggested, some courtier or conservative aristocrat would destroy her proposal with the four word phrase that had become popular in the last two weeks: “That is not tradition”

And so, she waited to approach and be recognized by her husband as his consort, a title that she loathed nearly as much as being made to kneel in front of the entire population of Sade.

Yet, she had little say and there was little she could do but bit her lip and accept whatever blessing her husband and the ancient archbishop had in store for her.

Yet, for all her meekness and accommodation in this event, she was livid. Not towards her husband, who she recognized as her greatest friend and ally, but towards the Duke Meran, who (in her opinion) had violated her trust.

Drake watched Sabriel bow before him. He knew that she was not pleased with the outcome, and he knew very well all that she had planned a more modern coronation, to commemorate Sade, as well as the Restoration. Yet the Serdian clique at court, backed up by Méran, did all that was within their power to thwart her plans. Just as Sabriel was livid at the ancient ceremony, the Serdians were livid at anything other than the traditional coronation ceremony dating back to the days of Graith. They longed for the archaic estates, and the days that had existed prior to the Revolution. If they could not have back that, then they would at least try their hardest to preserve their older traditions. As such, Sabriel's plans had been trashed, and Drake had reluctantly went along with Méran's wishes (for Drake himself did not want a second coronation, fearing the backlash from the liberals).

Setting his scepter and orb aside, Drake picked up a second crown that sat on the dais. It was ancient, gaudy, and had first been worn by Helena Calov. Sabriel would be the third woman to wear it, and the third consort of the Rlugian dynasty. Drake placed it upon her head, and made the sign of Zelphis, blessing her and hearkening another prayer to the Gods. The King placed his hand in the Host of Saint Ezmerelda, removing that same golden oil which had been placed upon his forehead, and dotted his wife. In a serene form of piety, Drake took his place before his wife, and they both bowed and made their prayers to Lunaria, the merciful and compassionate.

Yet Drake could tell that Sabriel was not genuine in her prayers, or in the ceremony. It was understandable. She was a follower of the Clayre, and if anything, the whole ceremony stood to shove the Zelphis faith as far down her throat as possible. The Serdian aristocracy hated Sade with all their heart, for it decreased their power, and placed them into a position (or so they thought) of subservience to Meria. If they could not be free, then they would ensure their queen was as miserable at a coronation that she did not want. Drake and Sabriel rose, and behind the pulpit stood Méran.

"Will your majesties agree to uphold the Charter of '59, with all of it's laws and liberties?"

Drake nodded, only slightly. The coronation was also a symbol of the new Serdio, and when finalized, the Charter would be put into force.

"I shall."

“I shall” Murmured Sabriel next to him.

Already her mind was a blur. She had been foolish to assume that the Serdians would welcome the Union of Sade. They had cheered her when she had rode into Esto Gaza, cheered her urban reconstruction and cheered her palace and her court. Yet beneath the merrymaking and haste to settle into a new order, she knew that they seethed with resentment.

This ceremony had opened her eyes to that. For the first time in her life she met resistance she couldn’t overcome. Because, unlike the brazen disobedience of the Pasvie, or the general resentment of any faction she had previously dealt with, the Serdians at court were all smiles. All “Yes ma’am. No Ma’am” She remembered dealing with the royal jeweler, “I want a new crown, for the coronation.” She had told him in her chamber, seated at her desk in her elaborate dressing gown the same morning her daughter had been injured. “Oh no Ma’am. I couldn’t bring myself to do that.” The man had said, as charmingly and sweetly as possible. “Well you will. I command it.” The man simply smiled, bowed and withdrew. Over the course of the next few days she summoned him over and over again, inquiring after the project that she had put him to. Each time she summoned him, he would say he hadn’t started it yet. After two or three days, Meran showed up and told her that it was much too late to request the creation of a new crown.

Thus, Drake and Sabriel wore the ancient crowns of Serdio. Similarly, The Empress had summoned one of the senior seamstresses from Este-modistae. She had stood for measurements, told the seamstress the type of gown she wanted (A jaran dress, very much like the one which her sister was now garbed in), and gave her sketches. Two days before the coronation, the dress was delivered. When the Empress opened the box, pulled back the tissue paper and held it up, it was nothing like what she wanted. It was Serdian, and although lovely... not what she had paid for!

In the end, she had chucked her plans and let her husband and Meran plan the ceremony. And despite the fact that she knew it was a feeling of vague paranoia, she couldn’t help blaming Meran for the entire thing. After all, he had the money to bribe the fashion house and order the Sergeant of the Royal Jewels not to make the new crown. Thus, throughout the entire ritual she had glowered at the Duke and (she knew this was all pretend) planned out a number of horrible punishments she would like to inflict upon him.

With the coronation finalized, Te Deum was once more sang in a heavenly accord, and preparations were prepared to head upstairs to the coronation feast. As with tradition, Drake issued invitations to those who he wished to feast with him. Although Méran had been a major part in the coronation, Drake did not wish for further strife (he had seen Sabriel's looks), and thus 'forgot' to issue Méran an invite.

In the upper palace, the reception sat. Drake had invited only a select people, from a few nobles from the various portions of Sade, along with an array of capitalists and other rich benefactors. In all, the reception hosted only about thirty people. Drake took his seat at the head of the table, and the Archbishop blessed the solemn meal with much pomp. Te Deum flew into the air again and the first course was served, a dish of vegetables and gorie sauce, along with red wine.

Sabriel saw her chance and took it. For a moment, she vanished and then reappeared, her brother in tow-both of them followed by a young jaran prince serving as an apprentice, carrying a fairly large bag of purple velvet. “Excuse me.” She said once, and then, more loudly: “Excuse me!”

Suddenly, silence enveloped the room. “If you will please follow me outside to the verandah.” And with that, she and her brother walked out of the huge french floor to ceiling doors onto the wide verandah. There was an elaborate, enormous desk seated against the stone railing (this had been moved up during the coronation itself. Once she realized she wouldn’t be involved in planning the main ceremony, she took it on herself to create a new ceremony).

Below the crowd was as great as ever. It swarmed, ebbed and flowed throughout the Plaza. Huge elevated platforms had been raised upon which nobles across the confederacy practiced their own celebrations, quiet islands in the huge flowing crowds.

She knew that she would never achieve silence, but at least she could get attention. Before anyone had a chance to counteract anything she did (for this entire... hijacking, she supposed one might call it, was all done quickly in order that no one protest.) she raised her voice and, magically amplified over the plaza (she didn’t need it to reach all over the city for several reasons: It would be difficult to do and pointless, and there were hundreds of thousands of people in the Plaza and in adjoining Kilou street in general and finally, word of this event would spread, which was enough), she began to speak:

“I, Sabriel Katerina Novendot, wife of your most esteemed Monarch and Sovereign announce to you, that at this moment- August 25th, in the year of One Million and Fifty Nine, the Confederacy of Sade including the Kingdoms of Serdio and Sudland, the Empire of Meria and the Principalities of Galastar and Ivendell will henceforth be recognized as a binding Union and that this, the Constitution of the Confederacy, upon his coronation, will be signed by His Royal and Imperial Majesty, Drake Rlugia, by the Grace of Gods King of Serdio, King of the Sudland, Lord Caesar of Eden, Viceroy of Vulcan, Prince Consort of Meria, Supreme Prince of Ivendell, Lord Mayor of Galastar and Prince of the Imperial Isles will also be the Imperial President of the Confederacy of Sade. In addition, the constitution will be be signed by Leto Antonovitch Novendot, Dyan of the Novendot Tribe, Emperor of Meria, Rei Henka of Hayholt and Lord of jeds, and myself in a binding agreement. “

Ignoring the reaction of the crowds, the Empress took the velvet bag from the Prince, and took out an immense scroll. Unrolling it on the desk, she took out a pen and signed the bottom in a flourish. Her brother stepped forward and signed his name as well. And then, turning to her husband she held out the pen. “Your Majesty?”

"Yes...yes, of course."

Drake was mildly surprised at Sabriel's lack of tact in bringing the union into force, but he did not object and scrawled his signature to the paper, legally binding Serdio and it's territories to the Sade Confederation. To those nobles who had pipe dreams that Sade might be avoided, it was all over. Now, and forever more, Sade existed, and Serdio would be a part of it. Below, there was a sense of chronic disquiet at the whole scene. There was no cheers, and certainly no bellows of tyranny. The crowd was just as stunned as their sovereign who had willingly signed the paper.

"Come, let us go back inside. We'll discuss this later."

Opening the French lattice once more, Drake went back inside.

The crowed moved back into the room. Anyone but Sabriel might have felt embarrassment. But the Empress knew differently. Just because there were no shouts or cries of joy (she had suspected their might not be) didn’t mean that this had been a bad idea.

Without formal recognition of Sade, it would collapse upon their deaths. This constitution, this contract needed to exist if Sade was to exist. And just because the Serdians resented what she had done, didn’t mean that in three hundred years they wouldn’t look back on it with hard feelings. Sade would benefit everyone, and within a few generations her actions would seem heroic.

The joviality of the party, after an hour or so, crept back up to pre-signing levels and the evening passed in a blur of well wishers and revelries. The city would stay awake all night celebrating the event (and no doubt discussing the actions of their Queen). However, around two in the morning, after the many of the guests left to their own, personal parties, the royal family bundled itself up and stuffed itself into an oversized Berlin that would take them all back to the Palace.

“Ah, joy of man’s desiring,
Holy wisdom, love most bright;
Drawn by Thee, our souls aspiring
Soar to uncreated light.
Word of Gods, our flesh that fashioned,
With the fire of life impassioned,
Striving still to truth unknown,

Through the way where hope is guiding,
Hark, what peaceful music rings;
Where the flock, in Thee confiding,
Drink of joy from deathless springs.
Theirs is beauty’s fairest pleasure;
Theirs is wisdom’s holiest treasure.
Thou dost ever lead Thine own
In the love of joys unknown.”

The words of the young male singers filled the air of the Basilica, their heavenly notes piercing the air in a nearly inhuman fashion.

The Dauphin sat in a private box (along with other nobles), below sat the common people. Attending the Sabbath…it felt right, yet wrong. On many levels, the Dauphin disagreed with the church, and their strict way to conserve the faith. Women were not allowed to sing; young boys or those who had been castrated took their position, creating a song that did not waver, and had no passion. It was simply sang as holy as possible, to the irratation of the Crown Prince.

“Domine, Sancti.”

The last prayers were called, sins absolved, and the people began to rise from their seats in order to return home. Frederick sighed—he knew now what the Sabbath was all about amongst the people. He resolved he would only attend the private Chapel henceforth, in order to avoid the hypocrisy of the church elders. The Royal Chaplains were far more liberal.

“Ah, sorry…” Frederick replied, not noticing he had nearly ran into a very beautiful young woman…

Sarah-Rachel had sat quietly in her edge of the box, being more conservative than most nobility, though not as such as the Church, and was paying rapt attention through the service, rising and setting with each demand. She mumbled the prayers with thoughts in her heart toward the gods, and as the Sabbath ended, she stood to leave.

Upon rising, she was paying little attention when she nearly ran into a man. She went, "Ack, excuse me...", before looking and seeing the face of the Dauphin. She quickly lowered her head, curtseying slightly as though automatically, saying, "Your highness, I apologize."

He smiled at her.

“It’s no problem. Ah, you look familiar.”

The Dauphin had been asked by his father to memorize all the Peers, as he was given a seat amongst them. As one of the only female Peers (and the youngest, of course), her name (or rather, title) sprang quickly to mind.

“You are the Viscountess of Trémoille. I am afraid, however, that I only know your title. I am Frederick.”

The Dauphin bowed low and kissed her hand. For all his ‘defects’ the Dauphin was still capable of making women swoon, yet not to massive extent of his friend, Marius d’Albret. He smiled warmly at the Viscountess. In a way, she seemed so innocent and naïve, and although Frederick felt no passion towards her, he did at least feel calmed by her presence.

“What brings you to the Basilica? I would think someone such as yourself would have a chaplain, so you could avoid this place of cries.”

He frowned.

“I apologize. That was very rude of me…and please, call me Frederick.”

"Thank you, your highness." She was for a moment overcome by the Prince's appearance, but quickly took control of herself, and betrayed nothing in her face or appearance.

"It is alright, your...Frederick. To be frank with you, a private chaplain is not a...viable option at this time. You are, however, correct, that I would probably prefer to have a private chaplain most of the time.

Oh, and, feel free to call me Sarah-Rachel."

Frederick flushed lightly as she spoke her name. It was very beautiful, more beautiful than any other name he knew. Sarah-Rachel. It sounded so…pleasing to the ears. Frederick beamed, unsure what to really say her.

“I guess you’ll be going home, then.” The Dauphin replied. “May I escort you?”

Frederick was not really sure why he being so kind this random Viscountess. She was no different than anyone else. Perhaps it was just because he was so starved for companionship, someone to speak too. He had no true friends, aside from Marius of course…but that was different. He really didn’t have any regular companions, as he was the Dauphin. Anyone close to him simply wanted to take advantage of him, and his rank. If he appeared frank, perhaps he would not have that problem with a Peer of the Chambers.

“I apologize…” He laughed slightly. “I bet I sound like a stalker, eh? I certainly didn’t me it like that, but…it’s nice to talk to someone for once. I don’t have many people I can talk too. Do you mind? Could we…talk?”

"Of course I don't mind, Frederick. I know how painfully idiotic most peers can be." she said as she cracked a real smile.

She had, of course, heard so many rumors about the Prince that she could certainly not believe them all (especially the ones where she herself was his mistress!), but she was starting to get a general idea of this Prince of Serdio. She lowered her smile into a smaller, more subtle smile, saying, "Well, then, shall we go? My residence in the city is only a few miles from here."

“More than Peers. It’s anyone of suitable wealth. Industrialists, Bankers, anyone and everyone wishing to see me…I feel like I’m on display. I have to thank my grandmother, she allowed me to retreat from the main palace to her Château. It’s not a great thing, but we’ll be leaving Esto Gaza soon.”

He extended his arm to the Viscountess, acknowledging her request, although not with words. As they left the upper balcony, they stepped down the stone steps, each and everyone etched with age. It was dank and damp, smelling of what many would fondly call ‘history.’ They made their way to the bottom of the stairwell, and the large oaken door was open, pouring into the wide streets of the city. Viscountess in tow, they began a slow stroll down Kilou Boulevard.

“…so, we’ll be going to Augusta. I hear the Sudland is very beautiful during the fall. It’s sort of sad to leave Serdio so soon after the arriving, but I suppose it isn’t horrible. You can tell how much times have changed since my father mysteriously left…there isn’t happiness in the street. It’s all sallow, going about each day, just struggling to survive. A newspaper, the Montiteur, seems to be under the belief that another Revolution is brewing. I’m honestly not sure what to believe. I’m so young—I don’t know anything about Serdio. Father doesn’t like to talk about it. It’s hard to believe such a calm though, could lead to another violent revolt. I suppose it’s just Ultra-Royalist banter. When they aren’t passing laws in the Chamber, they are spreading rumors about the next Revolution.”

"Ah, yes. Augusta is quite beautiful, I'm told."

After further listening, she said, "Another revolution? I doubt it. The revolution itself was so horrible to the people at large they'll be by and at large conservative for at least a generation. However, I do know that the Peers are on edge with his majesty's...untimely disappearance.

I was fortunate during the revolution - my father, well, my adopted father, the Viscount Tremoilles, managed to hide out within Serdio after we failed to escape. By the end of the Consulate, the people were truly sickened of that damnable republican. Believe me, I was one of those within Serdio attempting to incite the Reaction and cause the Restoration.

It was not that hard after years under the Consul."

“Indeed,” Frederick replied with a smile. “All of society united to greet us. I remember when I arrived at Yalyn—it’s this small village up north…I was greeted by everyone. The Bishop, the Count, and all sorts of peasants and other bourgeois. It was all so touching; they screamed ‘Vive le Roi!’ and bid me to go to Esto Gaza as fast as I could to help my father. I don’t know if it was genuine…I’m told many who shouted ‘Vive le Roi!’ had shouted ‘Vive le Consul!’ only weeks before when he rode off to his last battle.”

It felt nice to talk with Sarah-Rachel. She wasn’t a typical noble…she was witty and intelligent as well. Although in some aspects she seemed naïve, Frederick was too. They walked down Kilou Avenue, the early morning rays shining down. The streets were with people, but not the crowds that often filled the afternoons. It was all sort of nice.

“So, where do you live? I’ve never seen you at court, so I take it you live in the city?”

"I live at the small Tremoilles Villa, in the Old City. Not very big, but livable. We own a sizable estate out near Sac Fin. My father was almost a courtier, as it were, of Charle de Mithran. But, I digress.

So, rumors are full of where your father is. Anyone have any idea at all?" she asked, changing the subject.

“No, no one knows where he is.” Frederick replied. “It doesn’t matter what anyone says, the rumors change daily. Some days he’s in Vulcan, others in the Holy Lands…we’re really not sure. He still has his eyes and ears, though, as he’s sent my mother several letters since the absence. But considering they seem to mysteriously appear, handed over by different nobles, we’re not sure where they come from.”

The Dauphin shrugged.

“I’m not worried. He was a hero in his younger days, so I’ve been told. I’m sure he can take care of himself. He’ll be back eventually…he simply needed to clear his head, is all.”

"Of course. So, court must be...somewhat dull if you do it all the time. What do you do otherwise?" she said

“Ah…well, a variety of things. I hang around with my family, with my sister Helen usually. We don’t have much in common, but we understand each other. When my father was around I hunted, but to be honest, it’s not really my passion. I don’t see myself running around, killing monsters and casting spells. It’s not my style.”

Frederick’s eyes then brightened.

“This may sound…forward of me, but I’d like to invite you to travel with me and my family to Augusta. It’s not just my family—a few Jaran and Serdian girls are also attending, daughters of the Berri and d’Este families. What do you say?”

She thought about it a moment, thinking on her sickness with the Peers at this point, and then saying, "Well, if you ask, Frederick, then I obviously cannot turn down such a pleasant invitation. Yes, I will most certainly come with you."

They then arrived at the small villa, which was remarkably restored since its long abandonment during the interregnum. She smiled at Frederick saying, "When will we be leaving for Augusta, then?"

After his answer, she said, "I shall be ready. Thank you for walking me home.

Farewell." she said as the gates were opened by a servant, and she went in, the gate being closed behind her.