Chapter XII

Crown

Julius II

The terrace door closed behind Annea and Edwin. Maryeal, High King of the Fatherlands, stood by the fence and gazed down at the city. Unscathed and whole, back from the war. But something was missing. Although there had always been a distance between Julius and his father, there was something else mixed in. The person in front of him became ethereal in a way. Unreachable.

“This will be the last time we speak,” Maryeal said. “Tomorrow is the last time we shall see each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“My life is fleeting. To turn the tide of war, and to save my city, I’ve sacrificed so, so much. You aren’t able to understand. Not yet. But soon. This night, even.” The king turned around. He seemed pale. His face, which was as youthful as ever just a few months prior, was weathered. “You’ve brought the Regalia from Devyr, haven’t you? My sword which I gave – no – threw away.” He held his hand to his forehead. “No matter how far or how unlikely, it comes back again and again.”

Julius took out the sword with its sheath. “The King’s Blade. Why did you give it to Travos? And what happened to you?”

“Oh Julius. If only you knew the scourge you were holding. You will never understand the blade’s danger. You are… different,” he spoke, though Julius did not feel as if the words were directed at him. His father’s gaze looked elsewhere nearby, as if someone else was standing there. “You are my only son. Your mother died so that you may live. A necessary sacrifice to free our blood.”

“Explain,” Julius demanded. “My mother was a sacrifice? She died giving birth to me. No one was sacrificed, it was just an unfortunate turn of events. If you honestly believe she died for some higher cause, then you have gone mad.”

Maryeal’s eyes shifted towards Julius. “Your mother was not human. She was… something far above that. An angel that descended from the Moon itself, a Guardian of life. Vy Alfreje was her name.”

“Let us say I believe you. What, then, did she die for?”

“To make way for the heir who will be freed from the shackles of the throne. You have seen it daily, the blue stone that spreads beneath the seat. The tendrils are below the entire city, below the rocks and dirt. And it grows, and as it grows, the city grows. The people are loyal to the king of Dammrias because he is one with the stone. And the king obeys the true ruler. Ethrian.”

“And I am to be different?”

“You already are. You’ve never been under its influence, which was why you could leave the city so easily without a cause. You’d be sick otherwise. Delirious.” Maryeal sighed. “And because you have her blood inside your veins, you can use the full potential of the King’s Blade – of Teyrneir.” The king walked closer to Julius but kept his distance. He took out a small, broken mirror from his pocket. “You wanted to know what happened to me in the east? This. I won the war with it. I used the light of the Moon to destroy the three armies.”

Three? “You… you killed even your own men? By using the Moon!? Why-“

“If you do not believe me, go towards Ereya and witness the crater of burnt corpses that I left. A few thousand Fatherlander soldiers survived. The Ereyans and Kyrioneans are gone. Just by using a simple mirror your mother left me.” He started laughing. “And you… you are her son, and just because of that you don’t even need a mirror. You could destroy the whole world in a day if you wanted to.”

Julius’ eyes opened wide. Could he really destroy the entire world on a whim? No, of course not. That was absurd. And such a thing would never cross his mind. Unless… only if it were for the greater good. If he truly had that power, then he should use it for a far greater cause, one that regular folk could never understand.

“What about the city?” Julius shook his head and cleared his mind. “You were outnumbered, were you not? How did you free it?”

“The people and the city are one. There is no difference. I walked through the gates and shouted my command – kill the soldiers of Kyrione, kill the traitors. And, like one, all people, the young and old, began to slaughter the invaders. Every single person received the skills and experience needed to defeat the enemy. My power, that of the Dammrian king, is without equal. Those born here cannot oppose my word. They are a part of me, every man, woman, and child.” Maryeal looked to the skies and went quiet.

Julius was trying to understand. Did they obey him just because he was their king? Some sort of power, as he had said. But what power would allow that? He did not understand. He could not understand.

“Tomorrow,” Maryeal began speaking, “you will be crowned king. I will abdicate. It will be a short ceremony since the war is still active though there is no one left to fight it. The priest will come and anoint you, place a crown atop your head, and that’s that.”

“W-what? You cannot possibly mean that. The law states that the High King must be elected by all the dukes and banns of the Fatherlands and that he must be married. Do you plan on breaking your own laws? Do you have any clue what that would do to my legitimacy?”

“There is no one else that can be elected. You are the only possible male heir. Kyareal was disinherited since he joined his order.” Maryeal chuckled. “He was to be king instead of me, didn’t you know? First was my elder brother who was killed. Then Kyareal, who left to be a knight. I was never supposed to be a ruler. I was not taught how to rule. But that’s alright. The councillors did all the ruling for me… they’re dead now, though. All except Faltieal who prepared you for what I could not. And where has he gone, I wonder? Where did he run off to after killing the council?”

“You are just making baseless accusations. Faltieal would never commit murder.”

“Why? Do you not believe me because he was a better father than I was? Do you honestly believe that the man who…” He stopped himself. “I won’t sully your image of him. Believe what you want.”

“Say what you were going to say.”

“No.” He turned around and went towards the railing again. “Now, about the coronation… The event tomorrow will be purely ceremonial. To become the true king of Dammrias and the Fatherlands, there is something else you must do.” He pointed at the sword in Julius’ hands. “The gemstone pommel. Place it against the gem in the throne and you will become king.” He looked to his side again. “Goodbye, Julius,” he said. And again, those words were not directed at Julius himself. Even though his name was uttered, he felt as if they were not meant for him.

Without a word more, Julius turned around and left. He looked back once before leaving through the door and could have sworn he saw the bright Moon flicker. Strange. There was nothing in the sky besides the stars to see. He closed the door.

He slowly made his way towards the pub. He did not want to think, and a drink would help with that. But he found the door of his pub open and voices came from within. He caught a quick glimpse of them and retreated for if he could not drink alone, he would not drink at all.

Julius walked out of the castle, hands in his pockets and sword on his hip. The stench of burning corpses invaded his nostrils. Why did they burn them so close? Should have taken them outside the city itself, burn them there, or bury them. Just not here.

The noble district was empty at night. Lampposts were scarcely turned on as to not bother the residents, and the few guards that walked about had to do so in soft shoes. There were more guards here usually, but considering what happened to the city recently even the few that patrolled were enough. People would, hopefully, want to get a job as a guard. City security will be dreadful elsewise.

The port district was more lively. Plenty of taverns were open here for any sailor or traveller. And they were definitely being used. Shouting, fiddling, fluting, and other more uncanny sounds came from all around. It really seemed like the populace had gone undisturbed by the invaders. It was peaceful here, in a way.

No ships were passing by this time of night. The river was empty, save for the few moored rowboats. Julius sat on the grassy bank and listened to the river flow. It was pleasantly warm. Still July, after all. A soft breeze blew past sometimes, rustling the scarce trees nearby. The grass waved back as if in a greeting. Julius tilted his head back and stared at the clear sky. If only his mind could be as clear as that sky.

“Oy-oy-oy!” sad someone from behind. Julius turned to see a man stumbling about, possibly one of the many drinking sailors. “What’re you doin’ here this time a night?”

The prince stood up and looked at the balding, alcohol-stained man. “Sitting,” he said.

“Yea? I think you’re plannin’ on robbin’ someone, yea?” He hiccupped and neared Julius, grabbing him by his collar. “A vagrant out to loot, yea? Think you… think you can get away with it?”

“Unhand me.”

“Probably already stole from our ship, did ye? I’m goi-“

Julius bashed his face in with his fist, throwing the man down to the ground. “Stay down and think for a moment. You have come here and insulted the prince of Dammrias, and the only punishment you will get is that broken nose of yours.”

“I’m gonna…” The man managed to stand himself up and form two fists. He swung at Julius who moved aside.

“Stop this you idiot.”

“You’re done for filthy little bastard!” The man pulled out a knife from his pants. He barely handled the little thing. He would sooner stab himself than Julius.

The prince looked at the gates. There was no guard there. A guard would have already intervened. He could just keep avoiding the drunk’s attempts at stabbing until the man dropped unconscious, but how long would that be? He was already angry. His father already made him mad. He would be a king tomorrow, but he was not ready. And now there was an annoying flea with a kitchen knife swinging at him.

Julius took out his sword and he swung it. Then he swung it. He swung it. He swung it once more. He did not stop swinging. He felt his throat go sore from his breaths and yelling. He did not even notice he was screaming his lungs out with every swing. He did not realize there was this much blood on the grass.

He wiped the blood off his face. His breathing was ragged and his wrists hurt. The person in front of him was dead, although that was no longer a man. Minced meat mixed in with bones and fabric. One of the arms already rolled down into the river, the other was barely attached.

He wiped the blood off his sword and sheathed it. He nearly fell over the man’s legs. Those were still whole. He kicked the remains down the river and walked away.

Julius went towards the baths in his castle with a new set of clothes from his room. No one had seen him enter Terwall. The baths would be vacant, hopefully. This time of night, they should be empty.

The door opened in front of him. “My lord, you…” Annea walked out, drying her hair with a towel. Her eyes widened once she saw him. “What happened!? Why did… are you alright!? I’ll-I’ll get someone to help. Please, just…”

“I am fine, calm yourself.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “This is not my blood. I…” He stopped his words from coming out. There was no reason not to trust her. Besides, he was defending himself. She would understand what he did. She would have done it instead of him if she were there. “I killed.”

Her eyes slightly narrowed. She stared at his shirt that was now more blood than anything else. “…How did it feel?”

How did it feel? Who... why would she ask that? Why would anyone ask that? What he felt was fury. When he was killing him, that was all he felt. There was a void now. He was not angry. “Nothing. It felt like nothing.”

“I see.” Her eyes shied away. Tiredness arose in them. “We should burn the clothing. The blood won’t come out. And… are you sure you feel nothing, my lord? No remorse?”

What answer did she want? He could not lie to her. Why would he lie to the one person he trusted most? “Nothing.”

“I rubbed off on you too hard, didn’t I?” She gave a short, empty chuckle. “I’m going to sleep. If you’re leaving the castle again after this, please just… wake me up. You don’t deserve to stain your hands.” She smiled at him and left.

Julius woke up early. He had not eaten anything last night. Then again, the only edible food was dry meats and fruits. There was no chef to prepare anything.

He dressed himself and went down the stairs towards the kitchen. Hunger gnawed at him. Some dry beef would sit well, even though he hated dried and smoked foods. Not sausages, though. But they had already eaten all the sausages earlier this year.

The kitchen was not empty. He heard someone cutting something up. That was followed by the sound of oil bursting. Someone had just thrown something in a hot pan. Julius entered to see who it was.

“Morning,” Edwin said. He must have noticed Julius with the corner of his eye. He did not wear his coat, but why would he even wear it while cooking.

“A good morning to you.” Julius approached. Edwin had diced onions on a plate. In the pan was meat. Two slices of pork.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Yes, yes I am. I was going for some smoked ham, so I will just leave you to your business.”

“Want some soup?” Edwin asked. “I made some earlier.”

Earlier? The sun was barely up. “When did you wake up, Edwin?”

“An hour ago.”

“Ah.” Julius looked at the large pot of soup. It was a fat soup. Chicken. But something felt… off. “Did you taste the soup yet?”

“No.”

A thought crossed his mind. While the city had been occupied, someone might have poisoned the supplies in the kitchen. There was a possibility that this soup was poisonous. “What did you use for the soup?”

“Broth. Carrots. Parsley. Cauliflower. Some noodles.”

“The broth might have been poisoned.”

“I made it overnight. Did someone sneak in?”

This slightly lowered the possibility of poison. Julius sighed and poured himself a serving of soup in a bowl. If it was poisoned, at least he would not need to become king later. He grabbed some dry beef and went to the dining hall where he sat down and peacefully ate. Edwin joined him after making his own meal.

Julius eyed the meat on Edwin’s plate. There were crisp onions on it, as well. The food looked juicy, fresh, and, most of all, delicious. “Have you considered cooking for the castle?”

“No,” he responded.

“I see. I assume you will be leaving back home once you are done with the Gala matter?”

“I’ll be staying here. Annea will teach me how to fight with a sword.”

Julius smiled. “Glad to see someone took her up on the offer. We never could find a sparring partner for her.” He drank his soup. “I am still indebted to you. Since you will be staying here for a while longer, perhaps…” Maryeal had said that the army was gone. In that army were a lot of nobles, no doubt. This meant that some died without an heir and the king inherited their holdings. He could give a manor or the like to Edwin. A title, as well. The boy was not complicated and had no real motives. He would prove loyal. “Never mind. I will tell you some other time.” After all of this was done. Maybe then.

The dining hall door opened. “My lord. Edwin.” Annea greeted the two. She wore her armour for some reason. She usually never wore it in the castle. “Will you finish your meal soon?”

“We are just about done, I believe. Why?”

“The king requested that we come to the cathedral.” She looked at Julius, eyes filled with worry. “He didn’t tell me why.”

Julius gulped down a piece of meat. “For my coronation.” He stared at his plate of food.

“Coronation…?” Annea uttered. “I wasn’t informed, my lord. Why now? Isn’t it-“

“I don’t know!” He yelled out of frustration. “Forgive me.” He quickly composed himself and stood up. “We should be on our way.”

Annea shook her head. “Edwin, as well. The king requested so.”

It was a long walk towards the cathedral. Longer than it should have been. It would have been faster had he wanted to go there, but time seemed to flow so slowly. He was not ready. He did not want this, not yet, not at all.

He stopped in front of the door.

“Are you alright, my lord?” Annea asked.

Julius remained quiet, for a while. “I am.” He willed himself into going through the door.

The inside had no people other than his father and the priest. A coronation without witnesses. Maybe it was better this way.

“The man of the hour has arrived,” Maryeal said. He placed a silver crown on the altar. It had four jewels, each bearing a different colour symbolizing the banndoms and duchies of the Fatherlands. There had been a fifth one, an onyx representing Devyr. Gone now. “I’ve notified my vassals of Julius’ inheritance. Our neighbours, too. Now all that is left is to make it official.”

“And they just accepted it without question?” Julius asked.

“No one else to accept. They cannot protest, either. Bound by an oath, after all. As long as an Ethrios is on the throne, they will be a part of the Fatherlands.” He sighed. “The Avenns are fortunate. Declaring independence while at war… I’m certain you will make them bend the knee in the future.”

“Diplomatically. I was supposed to marry lady Elynne. That is still an option.”

“I am afraid that is impossible,” Abeal, the priest, spoke. “The law dictates that the High King must be married prior to becoming a monarch.”

“Right.” Julius crossed his arms. “But a king can change laws. Therefore, I…”

“We’ll not be changing any laws,” Maryeal interrupted. “You will become married first. You’ve a loyal knightess with you, and I’ve no doubt that she’s your mistress, as well. Very indecent, young man. Spending all that time alone with your own bodyguard.” He chuckled.

“We never…!” Julius clenched his teeth. “You cannot make her marry me. I refuse.”

“She will not refuse, however. Isn’t that right, Annealys?”

“Annea?” He looked at her. She remained quiet. She had gone pale already.

“And considering that you are my son, you don’t have to accept. My word is your word.” He faced Abeal. “Is all in order, priest?”

His eyes narrowed. “The girl must accept. It is illegitimate otherwise.” He looked at Annea. “Speak. Either say I do, or I do not. Nothing else needs to be done.”

Annea remained quiet. “I…” She met Julius’ gaze. An apologetic look. She would not accept. She would not. “I do.”

“What are you doing!?” Julius yelled out.

“This is what must be done,” she said and stood upright, gazing at the altar. She was resolved.

“Good. You may skip the ceremony. Needless flair.” Maryeal leaned against the altar.

“Very well. By the Sun’s grace, Alneal Ethrios – Julius by Kyrione – and Annealys Sarevenn are now joint in love for eternity. Congratulations.”

Sarevenn? Julius had his doubts ever since he had met her. A blonde, blue-eyed sword fighter. Just like any Sarevenn. He just refused to think about it. He had never asked her, and she had never told him. She had not lied. There was no reason to be angry at her. But the sole fact that she was a Sarevenn and that his father had brought her here meant that everything today was planned years in advanced.

“Approach, Julius Alneal Ethrios, so that I may anoint you afore sunlight,” the priest said. Julius approached without a word. There was no way to fight this. He could run away, but what good would that do?

“Keep it short,” Maryeal said and handed the priest the crown.

“Hasty, are we?” Abeal clicked his tongue and gestured for Julius to kneel down. He lit a candle inside a glass box. The light from within shone onto Julius’ forehead where the priest now applied a cold, pale fat. Then, with both hands, he placed the crown atop his head. “By the Sun’s grace, his blissful land, and his bountiful children, I hand to you all the rights and duties fit for the High King of the Fatherlands, the King of Dammrias, and the Baron of Terwall. Rise, High King Julius Alneal Ethrios.”

Julius stood up and looked at his father. “I hate you.”

“I know.” Maryeal turned away and started walking towards the side exit. “Don’t forget to finish your coronation. When you’re done with that, you might understand. And if you don’t, then I’ve failed.” And he left.

Julius turned towards Annea and Edwin. “This is why you have come here all those years ago, is it not?”

“Yes, my lord.” She did not hesitate to answer. “I am sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. You had your reason, I am sure of that.” He looked at Edwin. “You were called here just to be a witness, it seems.”

“Do we go to Alattras now?” Edwin asked.

Julius faced the main door. “There is something else I must do first.”

Julius placed his crown on the dresser in his room. His sword, Teyrneir, leaned against his nightstand. He grabbed it, sheath and all, and went down the stairs towards the throne room.

There, he approached the throne. He had never touched it before. He had not been allowed to. But now, softly, he touched the blue stone. It was as cold as ice. Harsh to the touch. The tips of his fingers remained blue as he removed his hand and unsheathed his sword.

He looked at the green gem embedded within the throne and his pommel. Both emeralds. The same colour, the same shape.

Julius took a deep breath. He did not know what would happen once he did this, but he did not care. If it killed him, it did not matter. He was no longer free.

He held the sword by the crossguard and neared the pommel towards the gem. Slowly. He had some reluctance left within him. Just a small bit. Small enough to be crushed by his will. The gems connected. Julius could no longer let go. The pain that filled his entire body was insufferable. Julius could not scream. He could not move. He could not see what was in front of him.

All he saw was the roots of the throne. Their final destination. He saw the paleness. The great swirl around him. Uncountable stars in his reach. He understood.

A voice was calling out to him. Julius, Julius, Julius. It kept screaming. A worried voice. He was, after all, slipping in and out of consciousness on the floor in front of his throne. Slowly, his eyes opened.

“…Julius?” The worry in Annea’s voice was replaced by surprise.

“I am fine.” His head hurt. He sat up, holding his forehead. In his hand was a card. The letters XXII at the very top. There was a picture of a woman, or maybe a man, floating above the world itself. A sword in one hand, a white stone in the other. The card disappeared from his hand.

“Hey, take it easy, I’ll help you up,” she said once Julius raised himself on his feet.

“The carpet is… blue,” he said. Purple. It should have been purple. Or teal, maybe? Maybe blue was the correct colour.

“You are not alright, my lord. Let’s get you to your room.”

“I can go myself.” He put a hand atop her head. “Thank you.”

“My lord, there’s no need to…” She gulped. “You’re welcome. But your eyes, my lord. They-“ She stopped once steps started approaching them. Edwin walked forward. He had golden hair. Golden eyes, too.

“When did you have the time to dye your hair? It was brown earlier. And your eyes. How?”

Edwin raised a brow. “I’ve always looked like this. Why do you have green eyes, though?”

Julius did not say anything. These eyes were his eyes. Green, just like the gems. Not blue like his father, or his father’s father, or those before him. The throne did not control him. Julius controlled the throne. “Grab your things. It is time we go to High Alattras.”

“Shouldn’t you rest up first? Please, I don’t think you are fully well,” Annea spoke out.

“No. I must go forward. We all must.” He walked between them, towards the castle exit. “Come. We live on borrowed time.”