Coronation (2)

Thomas, his face flushed, ascended the stage, bowed deeply, and presented the document to Christoph.

The once-silent tiltyard erupted into murmurs.

The crowd that filled the walls and tiltyard, the Knights and Guards standing in ranks, even the priests and Sisters—all tilted their heads at this irregular breach of coronation protocol.

“Fynel!”

Morten called to Fynel, who was already drawing his sword. Fynel nodded and mounted the stage with Morten, standing guard at Christoph’s sides.

Christoph raised his voice.

“This document is a letter sent in secret, without any consultation or notice to the Ducal Council, from the Cathedral of Nastrand to the Cathedral of Grandelvald—the very duchy against which we raise our glorious swords to reclaim our lands! And I, Christoph—!”

The tiltyard fell into silence again.

“To reveal this before you all rends my heart as though torn from my chest!”

All eyes widened in shock.

Gasps and cries—“Ohhh!” “Heavens!” “What is happening?!”—rose everywhere. Christoph’s blazing eyes swept the assembly as he spoke on.

“We received this cursed, vile, and filthy letter of treachery through the loyal Father Thomas, who loves this Duchy. May the Lord protect him! And I shall read its contents before you all.”

Christoph cleared his throat and unrolled the letter.

“As the Lord’s foolish servant, by His undeserved love entrusted as High Priest of the Cathedral of Nastrand, I, Kraf, deliver this letter to His great servant, High Priest Runsted of the Cathedral of Grandelvald.”

The words that followed were more than enough to inflame rage.

It mocked Christoph, now the rightful ruler of Nastrand, derided Morten and Fynel, and suggested installing Count Mannheim’s son, Friedrich, as ruler to establish a new order.

Christoph’s hand shook with fury as he read the final passage.

“Therefore, the Grand Cathedral of Nastrand will compile all information regarding this war and deliver it to the Grand Cathedral of Grandelvald, to be conveyed to Lord Bedgrid, ruler of Grandelvald.

Furthermore, since the situation hinders approach to other duchies, we ask the Cathedral of Grandelvald to inform our brethren of Fjorland and Bjoern of these events and deliberate with them.

Your faithful servants in the Lord, Kraf and Cecilia.”

Christoph lifted the letter high for all to see. The signatures of Kraf and Cecilia were unmistakable.

The murmurs died into utter stillness.

Only the flapping of flags in the wind and the restless snorting of horses broke the silence.

Christoph commanded Morten and Fynel beside him.

“As Duke and Lord of this Duchy, Christoph Lisberget, my first command: Arrest these filthy traitors, unworthy even to be called clergy!”

“Aaahhh!!!”

At this unbelievable decree, priests and Sisters screamed.

Then, like a dam burst, cries of shock, shouts of rage, and wails of despair erupted.

Morten gave orders to the Knights.

“Knights of Nastrand, from this moment, you obey only myself and Duke Christoph. We are in a state of war. Secure the grounds.”

Fynel addressed the Guards in a stern voice.

“Let no one leave this coronation hall nor stray from their seats. Control them all!”

The Knights and Guards, stunned, quickly understood the gravity of the moment and obeyed their superiors’ commands.

Step. Step. Step.

Morten and Fynel stood before Kraf and Cecilia, trembling in their chairs.

“Rise. From this moment, you are under arrest.”

Kraf clung to his fading composure and bellowed with sternness.

“Does a mere Knight Commander of a duchy dare arrest the High Priest and Prioress of the Cathedral? We serve the Holy Empire and Papal See, not the whims of a duchy!”

Kraf’s outburst sent the priests and Sisters into panicked shouts.

“Yes! By what right does a mortal punish the Lord’s servants?!”

“That letter is false! It cannot be believed!”

“This will be remembered as a crime in Church history! Repent!”

Senior priests and Holy Sisters cried out, causing an uproar. All eyes turned toward them.

Christoph looked at them with scorn.

“Whether these signatures and seals are false will be proven by comparing them in court. And by what right? By Church law itself! Father Thomas, present the legal grounds!”

Thomas produced another document and stepped carefully onto the stage.

As the officiant priest ascended, priests and Sisters fell silent. All eyes fixed on Thomas.

“Faithful Father Thomas, I, ruler of Nastrand, ask you: testify that my act accords with Church law and the accords between Duchy and Papacy.”

Thomas avoided the eyes of Kraf and Cecilia, lifting the prepared document.

“This document is the accord made fifty years ago between the Papacy and the Duchy of Nastrand on the establishment of the cathedral, appointment of its High Priest, and the separation and recognition of ducal authority—concluded by the late Pope Orses I and Duke Östein Lisberget.”

It was the ancient charter that had founded the cathedral.

All eyes turned to it.

Thomas stammered as he read parts of it.

“Article 3, Section 3: A cathedral established by the Papacy in a duchy shall not engage in political acts threatening its stability or prosperity, nor reveal vital information or documents to another duchy or cathedral without consultation.

“Section 4: The Cathedral shall not act against the safety of the duchy or its ruler, nor lead rebellion, violence, or riot. If violated, the duchy must inform the Papacy immediately.

“Section 4-1: In urgent cases, the duchy may first take appropriate measures, then seek Papal approval afterward. However, under no circumstance may the life of one anointed as the Lord’s servant be harmed.”

All fell silent.

Two guards approached with ropes before Kraf and Cecilia.

Fynel ordered in a low voice:

“Bind them—but show courtesy. Do not bind harshly.”

The hesitant guards felt Kraf’s piercing glare, then bound Kraf and Cecilia and led them away.

It was time for the second, crucial strike.

Christoph raised his voice again.

“And now, read the canon law regarding a High Priest’s authority and its nullification!”

Thomas unfolded another paper he had prepared.

“The canon law, set by prayer and devotion and permitted by the Lord, applies to all anointed and all who dwell under His word. Amen.”

Having recited the opening proclamation always read with canon law, Thomas continued to the section on High Priests.

“If a High Priest commits an unforgivable sin and his office is suspended, then all he speaks or writes is rejected by the Lord; all covenants, accords, and decrees are void. Therefore strive unceasingly that your eyes, ears, lips, and hands remain undefiled—pray and repent.”

Christoph nodded, then thundered to the assembly with a grave expression.

“High Priest Kraf and Prioress Cecilia are hereby stripped to common priest and Sister. By accord between Papacy and Duchy, I, Duke Christoph, appoint Father Thomas as Acting High Priest. Priests and Sisters, from this moment, serve under Acting High Priest Thomas.”

Christoph knelt, crossing himself. Thomas, trembling, blessed him with the Sign of the Cross and hand upon his head.

Christoph rose and cried out what he most longed to say.

“Thus all contracts, licenses, and decrees under Kraf’s tenure are null. Those who joined as priest or Sister under him may choose: remain in the cathedral or convent—or depart as free citizens of this duchy!”

“Ahhhhhh!!!”

Lyset, gazing into Christoph’s fiery eyes, gasped and collapsed to her seat. Sisters elsewhere screamed or wept.

Morten too reeled. Christoph turned to him with command.

“Therefore, all punishments decreed in his tenure are void! Sir Morten, Knight-Commander, and Sir Fynel, Guard-Commander, seize cathedral and convent, gather all evidence of treason, and secure the personnel!”

Morten and Fynel bowed.

“Cavalry, follow me at once to the convent!”

Morten, thinking of Roze, leapt onto his black steed and led a troop out of the inner castle. Fynel, with a company of Guards, rushed toward the cathedral.

Christoph strode up to Kraf and Cecilia, bound in ropes, surrounded by guards.

“Why did you do this?”

“What nonsense is this?!”

“I mean—why meddle in ducal affairs?”

Kraf’s face turned molten red with fury and shame at being outdone by a mere youth. He spat venom like a serpent.

“You war-mad fool! You brat seeking to break the Church’s authority! The Lord’s law is above all, and His kingdom first! How dare you, wretch, shatter the peace and balance of Nordenheim!”

Christoph grinned.

“Yes. At least I shall not live and die trembling under your hands. The Duchy of Nastrand—and I, its ruler—have only just spread my wings.”

Then the Duchess walked forward slowly. Behind her, Yodel slumped asleep in his chair, drooling amidst the uproar.

“Oh my, High Priest Kraf—or rather, just Priest Kraf now. And Sister Cecilia. You must be so weary from your years of service. I hope you enjoy a sweet rest ‘where no one will disturb you.’ Worry not, the food quality will be seen to.”

“Unsette! Harlot swayed by serpent’s tongue and goat’s horn! This is your design, is it not? Do you not fear the Lord?!”

Cecilia spat with venom.

The Duchess tilted her head.

“Oh? Of course I fear the Lord—naturally! But those who imagine themselves mighty simply because they cling to His shadow? Them, I do not fear at all.”

“You think this ends here?! Do not scorn the Duchy of Grandelvald or Duke Bedgrid!”

Kraf snarled.

“Yes, Grandelvald Duchy, Duke Bedgrid… how could we ever scorn them?”

The Duchess turned, smiling slyly.

‘Not that we ever cared for them anyway?’