Chapter 11: 11. The Ceremony

- DILLON -

Dark clouds loom overhead, casting solemn shadows over the veranda. Arellia looks at me as though my tale was the most haunting she had ever heard. Yet, she smiles.

"Thank you for your story, Sir Ecklington." She stands and wipes the non-existent dust from her gown and curtsies clumsily, as though she is not used to the exercise. Reality slithers back into my conscience, making me aware of our social status.

"Shall we meet again, good sir," Her voice is soft, trembling, as she realises that once she leaves our protective bubble out here on the veranda, we both will have to face the reality of our situation. I pretend a little longer.

"It was a pleasure, my lady." I stand, taking her small hand in mine and brush my lips against her knuckles lightly. I hear her breath catch, hands trembling.

I am too afraid to look at her, afraid of what she thinks of me. Arellia pulls back her hand and walks away without a sound, leaving me out here on the veranda with the darkening sky, staring awkwardly at my feet. My heart thunders wildly in my chest. Why did I do such a thing?

I reach for a bottle of wine, but we have drunk it all.

***

The late afternoon sky is a magnificent array of deep orange and purple streaks. It paints the sky like a canvas, making lights from the sconces shine like glittering jewels against the cream and gold wallpaper of the ballroom. Eyes flick to me as I step foot over the threshold. It feels like I have stepped into another world. 

The ballroom is enormous, rectangular with marbled pillars and two crystal chandeliers that hang from the high ceiling. There are twenty guards along the walls, chins high, eyes forward; they grip the hilt of their swords tightly as if they are ready for battle. I wonder if they have ever fought a battle in their lives.

A loud horn bleats from the corner of the room, signalling the entrance of the King.

He walks slowly, leaning on a long golden cane. He does not acknowledge the crowd. The head of the cane is a jewelled three-headed python; the sigil of House Virtris.

King Elkin is tall and commanding, with dull greying hair and deep wrinkles but his broad shoulders slump due to age. I see the way these great Houses look at him, like vultures waiting to devour prey. He stands on the raised platform at the back of the room, his eyes are grey and clouded.

To his right is prince Vasilis, the Golden Son. Tan, tall and devilishly handsome. He smiles as though he is hiding a secret. This is my employer, the one who sent me to war. The reason I am here.

Next to him stands princess Arellia; her eyes are locked on mine. There is a sadness in her gaze as if she is mourning. Perhaps, we both are. Our lives will never be the same after tonight.

I glance at my comrades huddled at the far end of the room. I feel their awkwardness. I am pleasantly surprised to see how docile they are being, like loyal dogs in front of their masters. They are just as unaccustomed as I in this new world.

A shuffling of garments and all in the room bow deeply. I drop stiffly on one knee.

"Rise," King Elkin's voice echoes through the room and the music halts. One by one the lords and ladies of the High Court rise, but none look at their king. Their eyes are on me. Watching my every move like a hawk. Waiting.

At King Elkin's feet, on the raised platform, sits a small embroidered cushion. The time for my ceremony has come. I wait for feelings of nervousness or anticipation to rise, but the only thing I feel is impatience and an eagerness to end this show.

As is their way, the lords and ladies step back into orderly rows, carving my path to the King. The silence is thunderous. I clench my jaw and dare steal a glance at Arellia, she looks small and timid like a bird standing next to giants. But her gaze is not on me, she stares at the cushion at her father's feet, fidgeting with her gloves.

I take slow, careful strides towards the King. He is expressionless. The Prince is drinking a goblet of wine, his expression is of a bored child. King Elkin taps the marble floor with his golden cane, signalling the beginning of the ceremony. I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose.

"Do you know what to do, boy?" King Elkin speaks, but his voice is low. None other than myself and his kin hear us. I nod.

"Then, we shall we begin."

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And as is their way, I drop to my knees. The cushion softens the impact. I sit with my back straight, head bowed and a hand over my heart, like an obedient dog.

Footsteps echo to my right and I see a pair of detailed leather boots in my peripheral vision.

There is a rustling sound of a scroll being opened and then the narrator's voice is deep and clear, "To all here present, on this day of Summer Solstice, year eight-hundred and five after Angel's Death…"

I grit my teeth and nervous energy fills me. I feel the effects of inebriation slip away. I focus on the sound of his voice, trying not to register the impact of these words. I fear I will not be able to get through this sober.

"Formerly, Dillon Azshker of Khronir, having been recognised for your honourable service to the kingdom of Illya," He continues as he waves a hand in my direction.

"Will thou, upon this blessed day, pledge fealty to the Imperial House Virtris, to protect and serve this great kingdom as a Knight of the Crown?" The narrator then takes a wide step back and bows.

"Yes, sire." I look up at the king. His milky eyes are still as he regards me as though he can see me.

Instead of a sword, King Elkin raises his golden cane and taps my shoulder. Despite his lack of vision, his accuracy surprises me.

"I, Elkin, the first of House Virtris, do hereby dub thee, Dillon Azshker..." His voice booms throughout the room as he raises the cane over my head. I duck slightly, but the cane connects lightly to my other shoulder without a hitch.

"A Distinguished Knight of the Kingdom of Illya. May your honour hold true; to be the blade against our adversaries and the shield that protects; and may your courage and devotion become a shining example to the people of this Kingdom."

When his cane retracts, King Elkin holds out a wrinkly hand. On his middle finger is a ring made of gold, and a three-headed python with emerald eyes stares back at me. I bring his hand close and press my lips to the ring, and with this, my fate is sealed.

I rise slowly to my feet and bow deeply.

When the music resumes, so does the chatter. King Elkin hobbles away, Arellia on his arm. She glances back at me, a small smile on her lips. I am then approached by a short, stumpy man.

"Congratulations, Sir Azshker, what a momentous day!" He grabs my hand and shakes, his smile does not reach his eyes. I grit my teeth and nod politely. I dread the small talk. However, I am saved when I see Luxus strolling toward me with a grin etched across his face. Behind him, my old comrades.

"Sir Dillon Azshker!" He clasps my hand and pulls me into a brief hug. My former captain, Rifco nods at me and pats me on the shoulder.

Rifco hands me a goblet of wine, sensing that I needed the distraction. I nod in thanks.

"From the bottom of the gutter to a palace," Rifco says, toasting. "You are living a life many can only dream of." He looks at me and nods, but his eyes are full of emotion. I cannot place it, it is neither happiness nor envy.

Rifco pulls me into a tight hug and pats me gently on my arm. I feel tired, but looking at the grins of my old comrades, it is hard not to join them in their simple delight. When I take a swig of my wine, Rifco pats me again on my side. His affection is awkward, but with wine in my belly, I do not complain. Rifco barks orders at Luxus to bring more.

I drink until I cannot taste the alcohol. I drink until I no longer remember why I am here.

Soon, I am intoxicated enough that it feels like the room is spinning and all sense of time slips from my consciousness. The lights distort and the music warps. I hear Luxus laughing softly beside me. I try to distinguish him from the shapes in the crowd, but everything is a blur.

"Come, let's find you a place to sit," Someone takes my arm and guides me out of the vibrant room. I feel delirious. I hear Lux in the background and then I feel a rough hand on my back, pushing me forward.

A man mumbles something beside me to another, I cannot hear properly, every response I spit out is a garble and a stutter. Deafening laughter travels from every direction. It is blissful, this feeling.

Briefly, my eyes flutter close and I feel my body fall onto something soft and plush. The material is smooth and velvety as I drag a calloused palm over it, like silk beneath my fingers.

The door clicks shut from somewhere beyond and when I am finally alone, everything fades to black.

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