Coronation (1)

The morning of the coronation dawned.

Guards in ceremonial dress stood in formation everywhere, and as the castle gates opened, Gunnar and the other gatekeepers sounded their great warhorns.

The townsfolk donned their finest attire and headed toward the castle. With the lodgings inside already full, attendees from nearby villages who had camped out or stayed in inns also rode horses or wagons through the gates.

“Take bread! Children, take sweets!”

Officials stationed near the inner walls handed out bread and sweets, while boys and girls rang bells with bright smiles.

“Peace be upon you in the Lord! Everyone, make way for a moment!”

The murmuring crowd turned at the cry, then split to both sides and knelt.

Behind the priest bearing a large cross of gold and jewels, the banners of the clergy fluttered.

Riding a white horse and clad in white vestments embroidered with gold, High Priest Kraf smiled benevolently and waved lightly.

Behind him followed the senior priests and clergy, then a carriage bearing Prioress Cecilia. Finally came the Holy Sisters, hands clasped, chanting verses of purity, eyes cast down as they marched in unison.

“Peace be upon you in the Lord!”

All knelt, crossing themselves toward the holy procession and chanting Scripture. Salt and fir branches were sprinkled above their heads.

Inside the inner walls, preparations had been complete since dawn.

Heavily armored knights led their warhorses toward the tiltyard, while guards checked one another’s uniforms, inspected their polished blades, and sheathed them.

On the great stage erected in the tiltyard, five ornate chairs stood, the platform draped with gleaming red silk.

Those preparing since dawn were not only the castle folk.

At dawn prayer’s end, the special choir and officiant priest Thomas also busied themselves, rehearsing and adjusting their roles for the ceremony again and again.

“Sister Lyset! Come, let’s practice the response part.”

“Yes, Sister Helga!”

Lyset, clad in a special white habit made for the coronation, raised her hand.

“Now, High Priest Kraf will stand here, crown in hand, before Lord Deputy Christoph kneeling. Then, when I raise my hand…”

From the opposite choir of priests, a young priest stepped forward.

“Sister Lyset, step out in time as well. That’s right!”

Lyset faced the young priest, with Thomas standing in for Kraf between them.

“First, the priest’s invocation.”

The young priest raised both arms to the heavens and spoke in a resonant voice.

“On this joyous day granted by the Lord, all the people of the Duchy, the birds of the sky, and the trees of the earth gather to witness this event!”

Thomas and Helga looked to Lyset. She raised her arms to the heavens and declared:

“All with eyes and ears, see and hear! Here today, a new servant of the Lord shall rise as ruler of the Duchy!”

“Good. Then both lower your hands slowly, turn, and walk back.”

As they walked back, both choirs sang under Helga’s direction: “Blessed, blessed be, the servant of the Lord, upon whose head the oil is poured.”

After several more run-throughs, Thomas ended practice, deeming it sufficient. By then, draped curtains and vast banners of the Duchy of Nastrand hung from the walls, adding grandeur.

“People are starting to come in.”

Indeed, people now crowded the walls, and the hundreds of reserved seats in the tiltyard began filling.

Thoom!

With a great sound, the rear gates opened, and the Knights and Guards of Nastrand entered in splendor. Those in front rode warhorses in full armor, their majesty shining.

Morten and Fynel ordered their men to form ranks on each side of the stage, then stood tall beside it.

Morten’s eyes turned toward Sister Lyset in the choir.

‘Ah…’

Catching his gaze, Lyset dipped her head politely. Morten nodded quietly.

Baron Arnesen, with castle attendants, guided the stream of nobles to their seats. Soon, hardly an empty chair remained.

Bababam! Bababam!

Trumpets announced the start of the Coronation Mass, echoed by bells tolling from the cathedral spire.

Through the same gate came High Priest Kraf and Prioress Cecilia, ascending the stage, crossing themselves, and taking seats at its edge.

When the trumpets sounded again, Duke Yodel appeared, supported by the Duchess and Olga, alongside Christoph in shining armor.

‘Lord Christoph!’

Lyset felt her face flush red in an instant.

Christoph, seated beside Kraf, sought her out among the choir and gazed with fiery eyes.

When all were seated and gathered, Baron Arnesen nodded to Father Thomas.

Thomas rang the handbell thrice to open the Mass.

At Helga’s lead, both choirs sang, and all stood.

Thus, the coronation began.

Midway through the Mass, the special hymn ended.

In an ordinary Mass, Kraf’s sermon would follow, but this was a coronation, and the rite itself now began.

At Arnesen’s signal, the guard band struck up the national anthem of Nastrand.

Yodel rose with the Duchess’s aid, staggering, his eyes glazed. His trousers were soaked from incontinence—but thanks to the Duchess’s foresight to dress him in black, none could see.

The Duchess took a document from Arnesen and unfolded it.

Yodel, straining his clouded eyes, muttered faintly. Arnesen repeated loudly for all to hear.

“I, Yodel of House Lisberget, sole and lawful ruler of the Duchy of Nastrand, Duke of Nastrand, do hereby!”

Arnesen’s voice thundered through the tiltyard. Silence fell.

“By the will of the Lord, before the end of my life, I bequeath the title of Duke and all rights of rule to my son, Christoph of House Lisberget!”

The Duchess’s eyes gleamed with ecstasy as she held the paper before Yodel.

“And to witness this act, before all assembled, the Grand Cathedral of Nastrand, and the Lord, I transfer the ducal crown and scepter to Christoph of House Lisberget!”

As Arnesen finished, the Duchess, on behalf of trembling Yodel, lifted the crown and handed it with the scepter to Kraf.

Kraf stepped to the stage’s edge, raising crown and scepter high for all to see.

Christoph rose, walked to center stage, and knelt. As Kraf approached slowly, Helga lifted her hand; the young priest from the choir and Sister Lyset stepped forward to his side.

‘Lyset—you are blessing my coronation.’

‘Lord Christoph…’

Their eyes met briefly—Christoph smiled like a portrait. Lyset’s face turned crimson.

Following the rite, dried petals were scattered, and the young priest raised both arms.

“On this joyous day granted by the Lord, all the Duchy, the birds of the sky, and the trees of the earth gather to witness!”

Lyset answered in a beautiful voice:

“All with eyes and ears, see and hear! Here today, a new servant of the Lord rises as ruler of the Duchy!”

After speaking, her eyes met Christoph’s once more, then, blushing, she turned back and walked slowly to the choir.

As the hymn resounded, Kraf placed the crown upon Christoph’s head and handed him the scepter.

“In the presence of the Lord, I, High Priest Kraf of Nastrand, bear witness before all.

From this moment, all rights of rule and the ducal title of the beloved Duchy of Nastrand pass from former ruler Yodel of House Lisberget to new ruler Christoph of House Lisberget. Amen.”

“Amen!”

All answered, kneeling before Christoph—the new sovereign and commander.

Morten and Fynel, standing opposite, drew their swords and raised them to the sky.

“Long live Duke Christoph!”

“Long live Duke Christoph!”

At Morten’s roar, Fynel, the Knights, and Guards shouted in unison.

“Long live the Duchy of Nastrand!”

“Long live the Duchy of Nastrand!”

Thunderous applause and cheers shook the ground. Amid the fervor, the Duchess sank into her chair, shuddering with ecstasy.

Lyset too wept, overcome. Not only she—many born and raised in Nastrand wept at seeing their new sovereign.

Kraf returned to his seat.

Christoph rose and stood center stage. His commanding presence drew even greater cheers.

He surveyed the scene with dignity, then raised a hand to calm the crowd.

“I, Christoph Lisberget!”

The assembly fell silent.

“Have succeeded my father, Duke Yodel Lisberget—hero and ruler—as sovereign of this fair land, the Duchy of Nastrand!”

The silence was sharp as a pin drop. Morten and Fynel exchanged glances and nodded.

‘It begins.’

‘I know, Sir Morten.’

Meanwhile, Knights and Guards secretly ordered by them quietly closed all gates to the tiltyard and stood guard.

Thomas drew from his bag a rolled parchment—the signed document meant for the Duchy of Grandelvald.

From above, Christoph glanced down, nodded at Thomas, then signaled Morten and Fynel.

Then he continued:

“I have long taken pride in our Duchy ’s culture, traditions, and indomitable spirit—they are what make my heart beat! And so today, on my coronation and coming-of-age, I will reveal before you all something of great importance!”

This was no ordinary coronation speech.

‘What nonsense is that whelp about to spout now?’

Kraf and Cecilia clicked their tongues.

“Father Thomas, come forth!”

“…!!!”

Kraf and Cecilia started in shock. To summon Thomas suddenly—this was not in the rite, nor agreed with the Cathedral.

Then Kraf’s eyes fell on the scroll Thomas held.

“Blast! That document!”

Kraf staggered, clutching his head. Cecilia’s eyes and mouth gaped in horror.