Volumes of Sin

Volume Two - Chapter Eleven

Finally it had arrived, today was the day that Valur's son Feid was to be crowned King and rule the Kingdom of Daunt. The Coronation was planned to be a grand affair as Nobles arrived decked in lavish attire of silks and jewels, seeking to out do one another, their efforts only marred by the dark clouds that rumbled above. For days the rain had cascaded down covering every piece of the Kingdom in a weary drizzle, refusing to let up. Many saw this a bad omen for the times to come, only appeased by the actions of the monarchy in consulting with the Church of the Father, who quickly offered succour and aid, spreading their influence along with word of their belief.

Regardless of the state of the Kingdom, the Nobles had a reputation to uphold, many now sat in the Grand Hall of Daunt's castle, savouring the rarities that were on offer. So far It was a fine event with refined and finely worn decadence hidden beneath full-bodied scents of pride and hypocrisy, removed from the struggles of the mundane man.

Streamers hung from the eaves of the room, dangling in the air, emblazoned with the emblems of the houses present, a symbol of their participation and servitude to the Kingdom. Whitestone pillars towered up high, reaching for the sky, showcasing the magnificence of the mural depicted on the ceiling of the hall, a depiction of Valur in his younger days as he stood atop a mountain of demons and crippled their grasp on the land. Nobles sitting at the long rosewood tables paid no heed to this monument of sentiment, they were too focused on themselves as they dined on the food and drink as it flowed, endless like the rain as it drummed onto the stain glass windows, letting none forget its presence. The oil lamps and fires spread throughout the Great Hall burnt strong, trying to offset the grim light cast by the clouds above.

Sat on the throne was Valur, head adorned with golden crown as he looked down on everyone present, by his side an aid hidden beneath simple robes as he plied him with tonic, muttering words into his ear, he was the man chosen by the Church to care for Valur in his latter years. Grey with age and shrivelled by time Valur sat still, a shell of what he once was, gone was the vitality and bloodlust of the former warrior, instead replaced with delirium and confusion, not even a memory of what he once was. By his side sat Feid, watching his father as he mumbled and muttered to himself as he was kept docile like a domesticated lamb, the sight of this angered Feid but there was little he could do, the Church's infectious influence had only grown stronger as his father grew weaker. Below them sat the rows of Nobles, all sat and dining from their coffers, uncaring of the finance spent, it was easy for them to claim more. Feid found it ironic, the large difference in social status merely came down to a few steps at the base of the throne, a few steps that they wanted to climb so badly.

The position of 'King' was one that Feid would hand over willingly.

Feid wondered if these so called nobles knew that the Coronation was a sham, what need had his Father for such a thing and him likewise, this was merely another ploy of the Church to lengthen their reach, to lay a claim of power over their reign.

"Your Highness," Feid's spine froze as the words trickled into his ears, this was the voice of the aid who cared for his father, a man who didn't strike Feid as the pious type. Shrivelled and decrepit the aid was more akin to a goblin than any man, lowering himself to the side of Feid the aid spoke from beneath his grey robes as Feid repressed the desire to shiver from his words, "Does the Coronation not please you, allow me to serve you a fine tale that will... bolster, your spirits," not giving Feid the chance to reply the aid gestured with an open hand towards the entrance of the hall, already having preparations in place, not allowing Feid chance to refuse.

With a slight nod of their heads the guards stood by the Grand Hall's doors acknowledged the aid's signal and grasped the gilded doors as they began to pull. The golden doors easily swung open across the immaculate expanse of white marble flooring, a small expense for a castle full of wealth and coin.