The funeral began with the powerful sound of the temple’s drums. The audience stood up, as the archpriest walked up to the altar. There was a massive brazier behind the stone table and Tymerius threw something into the fire.

  A cloud of red smoke began rising out of the flame and the archpriest started moving his hands in strange patterns. The dense cloud appeared to mirror his motions, moving in the directions he pointed. That’s when Varre realized it. Tymerius was controlling it with magic.

  The smoke kept lifting upwards, guided by the priest’s motions, until it settled into a humanoid shape. It resembled the stone figures lining the temple’s walls. It must have been some representation Zyvan himself.

  Once the towering silhouette of the fire god stood above the altar, the archpriest turned aside. A couple of younger assistants came out from entryways in the sides of the building and started casting their own spells. Their job was most likely to keep the silhouette visible for the entire duration of the ceremony.

  The archpriest began a long speech. “You all heard the news from the royal heralds. Our beloved monarch, Mikkel III, was killed by abominable, cowardly assassins. They didn’t even dare to meet him in open combat. They poisoned him! And much of the royal dynasty died with him!”

  Tymerius then talked about the former king’s accomplishments. He was a popular king, fighting to defend the kingdom during bloody wars. Despite that, he was also a devout follower of Zyvan and generously donated to this very temple. The archpriest finished his speech by picking up a flower from the altar and casting it into the flames. Even more smoke went up, adding to the already impressive silhouette of the fire god.

  Tymerius then moved on to discussing the queen. He talked about her accomplishments to the temple as well. One by one, he discussed every single fallen member of the royal family, listing their accomplishments. He kept throwing more flowers into the brazier, probably representing their souls or deeds.

  Varre expected that the bodies would be burned as well. This was the temple of the god of fire after all. Instead, the archpriest explained that the coffins would be taken to the royal catacombs underground. As soon as he said it, the horde of lower priests that brought the bodies in here, started carrying them to a basement hidden behind the side door. The process took quite a while, during which the drums kept beating the same loud beat. Eventually, the last coffin was carried out, and the noise finally ceased.

  Marna whispered into Varre’s ear. “It’s time. Go up there.”

  The new king stood up and a group of hidden musicians started playing on trumpets. The drums joined them, matching the royal tune. The nobility gathered in the audience watched in silence as Varre slowly walked towards the altar. He couldn’t see it from his seat before, but there was a crown laying on the massive stone table.

  Tymerius watched the new monarch with a soft smile on his face. Once Varre was just a few feet away, he stopped and the archpriest softly asked, “nervous?”

  “A little,” the new king admitted, “no one told me what to do.”

  “I’ll try to help out,” the old man whispered, “kneel for now.”

  Varre did so. He kept his eyes peeled on the archpriest, waiting for the next instructions.

  The archpriest spoke to the audience with a booming voice, “though Mikkel III was killed, our kingdom is not yet lost! His lawful heir is with us today.”

  A round of applause from the pews answered him.

  Tymerius continued, “while we mourn the death of our beloved monarch, we have an opportunity for celebration as well! For his nephew, Varre, is ready to lead us to ever greater heights!”

  Another round of applause.

  The archpriest picked up a sword from the altar. It was made out of solid gold, and studded with many jewels. The fires lighting up the entire temple reflected on the surface, making it look almost shimmering.

  Tymerius slowly walked towards the still kneeling man. “Duke Varre of Logres, do you swear to protect your subjects from danger? In times of strife and peace alike?”

  “I swear it,” the former student responded.

  The archpriest handed him the sword. “Do you swear to work for the benefit of your kingdom, ensuring prosperity and health?”

  “I swear it,” Varre answered and the priest rubbed some holy oil on his forehead.

  “Do you swear to respect the values of your kingdom, to abide by the ancient laws, gifted to us by the very gods themselves?”

  “I swear it,” the man answered for the third time.

  The archpriest walked down the short steps in front of the altar carrying the crown in his hands. He reached forward, handing it towards the new monarch. “Then I crown you, Varre, first of his name!”

  Varre had his hands full, holding the sword, so he awkwardly moved the blade to his left hand and took the crown from Tymerius’s hands with his right. He stood up and put it on his own head, trying to adjust it to fit more comfortably.

  When he looked back up at the priest, he saw a shocked expression. Wait… was I not supposed to do that, he wondered as he turned around. A few of the nobles gasped. Others watched with amused smirks. The ones most panicking, were his advisors. Hakon managed to keep a straight face, but Benjamin grimaced and Marna covered her mouth with her hand. Whoops. I guess he was meant to put it on for me. Might as well make the best of it.

  “People of Logres,” Varre began, “t-thank you for the support you have shown me today. It truly means a lot to me, to have all of you come out here and take the time out of your busy schedules. I bet king Mikkel too would have been very happy, if he could see you saying your goodbyes.

  “I won’t lie to you, the situation isn’t perfect. Some bastards killed my uncle. In his own castle. On his own birthday no less. This cannot stand! And it will not stand! This, I promise you. The culprits will be found and brought to justice.

  “Whoever did this, wanted nothing more than to spread chaos among us. I do not know why. At least not yet. But we cannot allow these villains to win! We must come together. This is the only way for us to ensure the peace and prosperity of our kingdom!

  “I wish to thank you for coming once again. This powerful show of support sends a loud message to Mikkel’s assassins. We are not afraid of you! We will not cower before you! We will catch you and bring you to justice.”

  Varre paused for effect. “This is probably the first time many of you are hearing about me. After all, I was only the former king’s nephew. But you may have heard about the guy who survived the Soulkiller plague. My uncle was very impressed by that feat and said that it was a sign, I am meant for some greater things. I will work hard, to prove him right!”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  This wasn’t quite the same speech he spent all of yesterday evening practicing. Unfortunately, seeing the massive crowd of strangers watching him, caused him to forget most of it. He had to improvise. Still, it was a decent enough replacement. Though he did spot some raised eyebrows in the audience, especially at his inelegant tone and choice of words, the people were satisfied.

  There was a long applause from everyone and even a few cheers rang out. Varre made sure to wave to his subjects and stepped away from the altar, heading back to his advisors.

  “My lord…” Benjamin began, “you were supposed to let the archpriest crown you! This is all wrong!”

  “It’s unconventional for sure,” Marna admitted, “but it could have been worse. Traditionalists will complain, but they were going to do that anyway. Maybe you will encourage some modernists to support you.”

  “Well, someone could have told me that before, you know,” Varre complained, “how was I supposed to know that?”

  “It’s too late to change it anyway,” the steward stood up, “let’s get back to the castle. We need to prepare for the oath ceremony.”

  Benjamin was still in distress, but he managed to get himself together. He passed the new king a scabbard for the sword, and then helped him attach it to his belt. Just in time for a pair of Royal Guards to arrive. The carriage was ready.

  As Varre walked through the temple towards the main entrance he made sure to watch the faces of the nobles gathered inside. Many were concerned, some even disappointed, but many others pretty happy over all. They appeared excited by these events, whispering and gossiping about the unconventional monarch. At least they’re not so gloomy anymore. Better this than having them panic.

  Then another, darker thought crossed his mind, could Mikkel’s assassins have come to the funeral? Maybe they’re watching me right now, planning their next move. There’s no way to know. Until I find those bastards, I just have to trust my guards can protect me.

  The eight horse carriage was waiting just outside the temple. Slowly, vehicles belonging to other aristocrats started appearing on the boulevard, though the Royal Guards were blocking them from entering the plaza just yet.

  The people outside missed both the speech and the unconventional coronation ceremony. They still mostly showed concern on their faces, and the ones that did clap appeared to mostly do it out of politeness.

  It’s good to see this contrast, Varre thought to himself, now I can be sure that it was my doing that calmed down the aristocrats inside. I just need to wait for the news to spread. Nothing more I can do.

  Once the king had settled in the carriage, the advisors shut the doors and the procession began moving through the city back to the castle. Marna started talking about all the various nobles that came to the funeral. She made sure to watch their reactions, as they were leaving the church. She started theorizing which ones were the most impressed and likeliest to support Varre, and which ones less so. The new king didn’t care to listen.

  He had quite enough of thinking about that speech already and wanted to move on as soon as possible. Now he just had to get through that oath of fealty ceremony. He’d much prefer it if he had a feast to look forward to afterwards, but this was impossible until Hakon found the assassins. He better find them soon.

  When Varre arrived back at the castle, the whole place was buzzing with activity. A group of stableboys came out to retrieve the carriage and move the horses to the stables. Maids ran through all of the corridors, frantically fixing up any last remaining details in time for the ceremony. Guards took this last opportunity to rest up, before they’d have to straighten up their backs and appear presentable. The guests were coming soon.

  The new king took this opportunity to get a better look at his throne. The last time he saw it, he was just a duke. Now, the big chair belonged to him. He’d seen the frame before. Studded with gold and decorated with the royal emblem, it would appear magnificent to anyone standing below the platform. Fortunately, the designers did have the monarch’s comfort in mind too. Soft fabric was overlaid on top of the metal frame.

  Last time Varre visited, there was a second throne right beside it. It was intended for the monarch’s wife. Since the new king was still unmarried, the servants moved it away. His own throne was centered on the platform instead.

  Right as he was about to finally take his seat, he was interrupted by Marna. “Your majesty. The first guests are nearing the drawbridge now.”

  “Perfect, I was just about to sit down,” the new king responded.

  The steward nervously glanced to the side. “If I may suggest something, I would recommend retiring to the side room for now.”

  Varre scratched the back of his neck. “Why do I have to hide from my own subjects in some cramped side room?”

  “Well… the king never waits, your majesty,” she replied, with a tone of uncertainty in her voice.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” he took a seat on his comfortable throne, “have them wait outside the door, let me know when a whole bunch of them have gathered and then I’ll allow them in here. It will still seem like they’re waiting for me, won’t it? And I don’t have to hide.”

  “I-Indeed! I’ll get it done,” she quickly powerwalked out of the throne room.

  She needed to speak with the guards and relay the instructions before the first nobles arrived in the building.

  Outside, a long convoy of carriages was already parking on the castle’s courtyard. It wasn’t big enough to fit all of the incoming dignitaries, so as soon as the passengers got out, it would ride out back into the city. The drawbridge was too narrow to allow two vehicles to pass by each other, so a pair of guards was sent out to direct the traffic.

  Varre occupied his time with trying to find the most comfortable position on his new chair. He took off the sword scabbard and leaned it against the throne. It looked regal enough. In his opinion at least. Fortunately, he didn’t need to wait long for Marna to return.

  “The guests are ready, your majesty,” she told him.

  “Good. Let them in,” the new king straightened up.

  The steward signaled one of the heralds. He played a short tune on his trumpet and began a speech. “Varre, first of his name, has graciously invited you to his castle. Enter and renew your oaths of fealty to the new king!”

  A pair of guards opened the large door and a flood of nobles slowly poured in, stopping a short distance away from the throne. Their eyes were peeled to the new king, searching for any inch of imperfection. If they found any, they hid it well.

  “Count Renaud of Ilchester!” the herald called out.

  A middle aged man with a balding head came up to the throne and kneeled in front of it. “I, count Renaud of Ilchester, swear to manage my fief well. I swear to offer support to king Varre I in whatever capacity he may require. I swear to fight alongside him in any conflict that may threaten his lands and support him until our victorious return.”

  Fortunately, Marna stood just besides the new monarch and whispered how the correct response into his ear.

  “I, king Varre I, vow to shield your lands from any danger they may face and come to your aid whenever you may require. I swear to support your heritage and claim over your lands. Your oath is accepted. Now, arise Renaud of Ilchester, count of Ilchester!” the new king recited.

  The process was laborious. Dozens of nobles came up to the throne one by one, and Varre had to repeat the oath with each one. It was the same vow he made with Mikkel all those months ago. At least this time, he didn’t need to approach each one and hold their hands. For a mass ceremony like this, it would simply take too long.

  At some point, even his good friend Nilo came up to make his pledge. He was introduced as a representative of count Clement of Quendon. During a short break in between the oaths, Varre made sure to approach his old pal.

  “Hey there Nilo! Surprised to see me?” the new king asked.

  “Holy hells, Varre,” the young noble replied, “are you being serious right now? How did this even happen?”

  “I know right?” the new king grinned, “if you hadn’t convinced me to go to Esteban’s show, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

  “Well, now that you’re the monarch, you owe me a favor then,” Nilo joked.

  “Ha! Fair enough,” Varre laughed, “are the others coming too?”

  The young aristocrat shook his head. “I doubt it. I don’t know who arranged the guest list for you, but they did a good job. Lester is a commoner. He wouldn’t be invited. And Alastair is just a minor noble. It’s a shame, I’m not sure if they even realized that you are the Varre everyone’s talking about, but I’ll make sure to meet them later.”

  “Well, that’s no good. But I have an idea,” the king called a couple guards over, “you there! Go into the city and find Alastair of Muchelney,” the first knight bowed, “and you, bring me Lester Crowbie.”

  The second guard bowed too and both quickly walked out of the room.

  “I may be a king now, but this doesn’t change our friendship,” Varre extended a handshake to Nilo, “we still have each other’s backs right?”

  The young noble smiled. “Who could say no that face?”

  After the short break, the ceremony continued without incident. Until the herald announced the arrival of a familiar aristocrat. Count Neville, had come to make his oath.

  Do you think he's right?

  His earlier outburst landed him a short house arrest. How will he react this time?