Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 135

Chapter 135: Coronation (2) Chapter 135: Coronation (2) All eyes were fixed on the princess as she sat regally upon the red-velvet throne, as if it had always been hers by divine right.

Jasmine’s emerald eyes swept over the assembly, calm yet piercing, before they turned toward the elderly priest who shuffled forward, holding the symbol of her coronation and right to rule, something craved by man and yet held by few  The chorus of hymns, which had filled the room with sacred reverence, slowly faded into silence, leaving only the soft shuffling of feet and the labored breath of the priest.

His voice, frail , echoed through the chamber as he approached the raised dais, carrying the crown that had once rested upon her father’s brow.

With slow, deliberate movements, the priest lifted the crown high above his head, his trembling hands hanging in the air as he came to stand before Jasmine.

His voice rose in strength and clarity, as he regarded the hall “In the name of the Five Gods , of the Dirt below and Heavens above,” he intoned, his voice reverberating through the silent hall, “I hereby crown Jasmine, First of Her Name, of House Veloni-Isha, rightful ruler, protector, and shepherd of the Princedom of Yarzat.” As he spoke, his voice took on a reverent cadence, each blessing weighed with the significance of centuries of tradition.

He lowered the crown slowly, holding it just above Jasmine’s head as he called upon the gods.

“May the Warrior bless her with strength and courage in battle.” “May Fertility bless her lineage and her lands with abundance.” “May the All-Knower grant her wisdom beyond measure.” “May the Storm God protect her shores and her people from harm.” “And may the One Above All shelter her under his watchful eye.” With the final invocation, the priest lowered the crown onto Jasmine’s head, the ornate hairpiece sliding perfectly into place.

The moment was complete, she was now the undisputed ruler Turning toward the gathered nobles, the priest raised his hands and declared, “May her rule be fair and strong.” At once, a rustle swept through the hall as every noble and courtier bent the knee, their foreheads nearly touching the cold stone floor.

The silence returned, heavier than before, as all eyes fell upon Jasmine, waiting for her to speak.

After a few heartbeats , she rose from the throne, and her voice, clear and unshaken, carried across the room as she prepared to address her people.

“The holy scriptures, the sages, and the wise tell us that the path of the just has ever been paved with the blood of the wicked.

When my beloved father was called to the heavens above, the weight of this sacred crown fell to me.

Yet before his noble blood had cooled, there were those who sought to defile the sanctity of his legacy, to usurp the power bestowed upon me by divine will.

My own uncle, Ormund of our house, rose in treason and marched his army upon this capital.

But through the favor of the gods above and the loyalty of those belows, his vile ambition was extinguished before it could consume our realm.

A ruler who is just knows well when to reward, when to punish, when to offer mercy, and when to strike without hesitation.

As a woman of faith, guided by the virtues set forth in the holy books, I did not allow vengeance to cloud my judgment.

I extended my hand in peace to my aunt, and to my youngest cousin, offering them pardon from the sins of their fallen kin and shelter under the protection of this sacred crown.

My gesture was met not with gratitude but with scorn.

My forgiveness was cast aside, met only with spit and disdain.

The just offer mercy once.

Only a fool offers it twice.

And only the mad would extend it to those who seek the destruction of the innocent.

My cousin, young and untouched by the treachery of his father, remains blameless in all of this.

It is his mother, the widow of my late uncle, who bears the weight of guilt upon her soul.

And so, I hereby declare her an enemy of the crown, unworthy of the grace she once received.

But my cousin Cendric, he shall not suffer for the sins of his mother.

To him, I extend wardenship, to be placed under the care and protection of this holy throne.

Her and any man aiding her is declared enemy of all that is right , worthy only being hunted by the justs and virtues Now, I turn to you, my faithful vassals,” she said, her voice firm yet laden with expectation as she faced the gathered nobles.

“Who among you shall uphold the sacred duty you have sworn to me?

Who will ride forth and deliver my innocent kin from the clutches of those who would see him fall?

Who will bring him safely to this throne, where he shall be raised in honor and peace?” As soon as Jasmine’s words hung in the air, Alpheo rose to his feet without hesitation.

His voice rang clear and steady through the silence that followed, cutting through the tension like a sword “I will uphold the crown’s peace,” he declared, his eyes locked on Jasmine.

“I shall serve you as faithfully as I have done until now. I will bring young Cendric to your side and ensure the safety of your kin.” A ripple of murmurs swept through the assembled nobles, but they were silenced at once by the smile that spread across Jasmine’s lips.  “You have served the crown once already, Alpheo,” she said, “and in our kingdom’s darkest hour, you were the pillar that held this city together.

My uncle fell by your hand, and now you offer to aid me once more.” Jasmine’s words were filled with reverence and recognition.

“For such loyalty and faith, only the best rewards are fit for one as devoted as you.” The room stilled.

“Your Grace,” he began, “I have always been mesmerized by your grace and your strength.

I ask for but one thing, the greatest honor I could ever dream of-I wish to sit beside you as your most faithful companion.” He paused, the weight of his words sinking in before he spoke the final request.

“I ask for your hand in marriage.” The hall erupted into chaos.

Nobles shouted in disbelief, their voices clashing in a cacophony of protests and outrage.

How could a mere mercenary-a man once hired by coin-dare to seek the hand of the princess?

The commotion only grew louder as outrage spread through the ranks of the gathered lords.

Some even got up and threw insults at the boy only stopping from showing steel from the guards around.

But before it could descend into further madness, a sharp, thunderous noise echoed across the chamber.

The guards, stationed along the walls, slammed the butts of their spears against the stone floor in unison.

Some of them even were soldiers briefly taken from Alpheo’s band to fill the numbers .

The deafening sound brought immediate silence, restoring order as the nobles, wide-eyed and shaken, turned their attention back to the throne.

Jasmine remained calm, her gaze unwavering.

She faked some seconds of thought before answering  “Many will question your worth, Alpheo,” she began, her voice measured and regal.

“But none can question your loyalty.

You have proven it time and again-when you defeated my uncle, when you defended this city, and now, as you stand before me, ready to serve once more.

For these deeds, and for your unwavering devotion, I accept your request.” Lord Shahab, ever the seasoned statesman, rose from his seat .

His weathered face remained impassive as he took a step forward.

“May the gods bless this union,” he began, his tone smooth and measured.

“Long life to our beloved Princess Jasmine, and to her consort.

May their reign bring prosperity and peace to the realm.” He gave a small,clap, and as he straightened, his eyes briefly met Alpheo’s narrowing a bit , before turning back to the princess.  Without missing a beat, Shahab’s son rose from his place beside him.

The younger lord’s voice mirrored his father’s, though tinged with youthful enthusiasm.

“I too offer my heartfelt congratulations to her Grace and her new consort” As if on cue, several minor lords,most casually those whose fiefs bordered Shahab’s lands, stood in quick succession, each offering similar praises.

They congratulated the couple, their words almost indistinguishable from one another, like a carefully orchestrated chorus.  The other nobles in the hall exchanged knowing glances.

The pattern was too obvious, too coordinated.

Many began to piece together that this match between the princess and the once-mercenary had likely been arranged well in advance, with Lord Shahab and his allies already prepared to lend their public support.

They realized that resistance or protest would be futile.

Whatever personal grievances they might have had, they had to bring them in private.

Slowly, a ripple of applause spread throughout the chamber, and a young man knew he had won.