Yes I know I promised this like 2 weeks ago, concurrent with the new First Movement of the Odyssey.
Sorry :p
So here it is a little late.
Also, if no-one reading this as yet has read drakensis's 'Along Came a Spider'
1. *gibs slap*
2. Read it!
Also as a minor amusing aside, that 'Field Manual: Federated Commonwealth Navy' draft I
posted back here when I happened to look at it a week or two ago was actually a 50% completed first draft instead of the 75% completed first draft I actually did before realizing I had taken this whole 'exercise in Microsoft Publisher a
tad too far. Its mostly the same, but includes the Warships and Parasite warships - if anyone is interested!
Anyway.
This chapter may be a
little Elsa heavy, but that might be a reaction to some people who kept PMing me essentially saying 'Moar Elsa plz!'
So I've hived off the Ball fun that comes next into its own chapter. So if the ending feels a little abrupt or odd, there was kind of an amputation that took place...
But, enjoy!
*****
“Give me the thunder of a thousand guns rather than the fanfare of one trumpet!”
- Comment attributed to Victor Steiner-Davion
Great Hall of Arendelle
Arendelle City, Arendelle
Crucis March
Federated Commonwealth
May 10 3053Victor Ian Steiner-Davion had come to the conclusion early on in his life that Thrones … were overrated.
Especially as unlike his
preferred seat of power, they didn’t come with ‘Mech grade weapons.
Not that they didn’t
look impressive; that
was sort of the point after all. Your average throne room was designed for the express purpose of directing all attention to the throne (or more specifically the person sitting on it); to intimidate the hell out of anyone approaching it & them. The Throne Room in the Triad for instance took that logic to typically Lyran extremes by having a pair of Battlemechs -generally
Griffins- stationed inside the room
, manned by some of the finest pilots in the 1st Royal Guard. Cunningly decorated almost like glorified statues and symbolically positioned directly behind the throne, it was far too easy to mentally put them into the background and forget they were, in fact, fully operational weapons of war. More than one angry petitioner had been reminded of that fact over the centuries when their body language got just a
tad too threatening; having a Donal PPC suddenly swing up to point directly at your face could do
remarkable things in terms of reminding people of the due level of respect and deference that should be maintained at all times towards their ruler.
The Great Hall of Arendelle wasn’t technically Duchy Throne Room at all mind, that being back at the Palace and used for smaller more intimate events - although very few of
those since the untimely deaths of the rulers of Arendelle several years ago. And while it technically would have been a more appropriate and traditional venue for such a solemn event to take place, it could barely hold five hundred people - a tiny
fraction of the VIPs who simply
had to be present at this event (according to them anyway). And as the Great Hall had been constructed specifically to provide a large enough secure venue for the Duke or Duchess to hold a rare ‘full court’ audience of the Royal Court, it had been the natural choice for the location of the investment, no matter the grumbles of some more conservative commentators who
really had their hearts set on a classical throne room ceremony.
The throne sitting at the centre of the vast chamber
was the real deal however. It had been shipped across from the Palace under the careful eye of Kai Brevik by a specialist team of movers, said movers rapidly made aware that the phrase ‘worth its weight in gold’ was
not exactly hyperbole for this particular piece of furniture as they had grunted and hauled it into position. Now, polished until it probably qualified as laser-reflective armor, the impressive throne rested on a raised marble dais in the middle of the Great Hall, sitting on a broad marble stage. Two lines of chairs flanked it on either side - but all were empty as the clock slowly counted down to the start of the ceremony.
They were probably the
only seats in the Great Hall that
were unoccupied however.
The upper and lower galleries of the hall were covered in people, the chamber packed to absolute capacity by those lucky enough to have scored one of the coveted invitations issued in the name of Hanse Davion on behalf of the people of Arendelle. Most prominent of those seated was the ‘People's Council’, the grandiose and not entirely accurate name given to the mixture of senior regional nobility and elected representatives of the people who effectively ran the world on a day to day basis. Filling out the rest of the seats was an eclectic mix of lesser nobility and VIPs who through birthright, position, influence or just plain old luck had managed to score one of the coveted golden tickets, the allocation of which and seating arrangements of which had involved the brisk trading of favors, promises and probably no small amount of cash between various groups.
In truth, despite the fact that this event was technically all about the Duchess, a large chunk of attendees couldn’t care less about this formal ceremony to install her, seeing it as a foregone conclusion and highly inefficient way of ultimately just saying ‘she’s the boss now’. Instead, they saw far more value in using the rare gathering of most of the planet's richest and most powerful people in one place to advance their own agendas.
This was very much a
working coronation thank you very much, not a holiday!
Mere money however
couldn’t buy the best seats in the house. The
lower stalls that came right up to the edge of the stage itself had charmingly been reserved for several thousand school children selected from across the planet, to allow the next generation a chance to witness this once in a generation even up close; to see history in the making and hopefully be inspired by it. Cynical keen observers may well have noticed that a substantial majority of the ‘random’ children excitedly bouncing up and down in their seats were in fact the scions of the planets senior nobility … although if any did, they had the exquisite tact to not make a mention of it on the live feeds going out to hundreds of millions of people watching. Lest they (correctly) hint that favouritism may have played some small part in the selection of the cross section of youth picked to have a front row seat to history.
Standing outside the main doors as the time wound down to the start of the events, Victor Steiner-Davion in a somewhat more cynical frame of mind couldn’t help but wonder if MIIO had quietly
arranged the presence of the Children, on the grounds that a mass of people with an average age of twelve would be unlikely to have any trained assassins hiding among them. And more to the point, that any of their parents who might have wanted to do harm to him or the Duchess would
probably hesitate if they found out that their child was going to be in the line of fire...
Still, any chance for further reflections on the paranoia and/or ruthlessness of his security teams were lost when at exactly 15:00 local, a lone trumpeter started to play. The chamber lights fell quickly, plunging the room into darkness, silencing even the restless children as the notes hauntingly rang out across the chamber and the world beyond. Then a second trumpet joined the first - and then a third, the three harmonizing perfectly up and down for several minutes before merging into a final crescendo and note … and then there was light.
Under the sudden glare of a spotlight, a quintet of men and women could now be seen marching down the red carpet that linked the main entrance to the stage and Throne. In the lead was the Sergeant at Arms of the Royal Court, a retired NCO who had served in both the 4th Succession and 3039 Wars; finding to his pleasant surprise that herding politicians was really little different than herding junior officers. Behind him marched a quartet of local militiamen, each one carrying a flag of the highest quality, all five in perfect lockstep. Together, they climbed the broad steps to the stage, the chamber filled with the sound of their feet marching across the marble until they snapped to a halt directly in front of the Throne. The Sergeant then with great care came to full attention and saluted it, the flag carriers stepping forth to place their flags into cunning hidden points in the floor flanking the gleaming seat. Their task accomplished, the quartet reformed, spun on their heels and marched off to the side of the stage to vanish into the darkness.
The sergeant remained behind, holding the salute. Only when they had vanished and the sound of their footsteps ceased did his arm snap back down, the man spinning around to march alone to the very edge of the stage, just off the stairs and red carpet. He waited for a moment until absolute silence hung in the air ...
Then he spoke.
“HIS HIGHNESS, PRINCE VICTOR IAN STEINER-DAVION. LORD OF ARENDELLE, LORD OF THE CRUCIS MARCH, PRINCE IMPERIAL OF THE FEDERATED SUNS, ARCHON DESIGNATE OF THE LYRAN COMMONWEALTH, ARCHON-PRINCE DESIGNATE OF THE FEDERATED COMMONWEALTH!” the man roared in a voice that may not have needed the broadcast team to be heard on the other side of the planet.
If I didn’t already know the man was an NCO … Victor grinned tightly to himself for a moment, before schooling his expression into a slightly more solemn one as the main doors were opened in front of him and at a nod from the event manager, he stepped forward into the lights and sound as the orchestra struck up ‘Hail to the Prince’ - he had a feeling he’d be hearing that a
lot more now in his life...
Victor kept his pace measured against the beat of the music, but he did his best to
not just march in like a soldier. Instead, he forced himself to pause and meet the eyes of as many children as possible as he passed them, taking in their awed faces with a smile while ignoring the discrete presence of the two close protection bodyguards silently shadowing his movements down the broad red carpeted path, their eyes scanning like targeting scanners - and trying
not to think about the number of ‘friendly’ snipers in the rafters doing the same. Both of them clearly
extremely worried that one of the children might make a spitwad assassination attempt on him ...
Mentally rolling his eyes at their paranoia -while acknowledging that it was their
job to be paranoid- he reached the stage without incident and climbed the steps alone as the bodyguards sheared off to skulk in the shadows around the base of it. He stopped momentarily to return the salute of the Sergeant-At-Arms crisply with the respect due of one soldier to another before he finally crossed the rest of the white marble stage to reach the Thrones dias, climbing it halfway before turning to watch the entry of the most ‘VIP of VIPs’ as they were announced one by one by the Sergeant at Arms.
Kai, as the heir to another Successor States throne was first of course, striding down towards him looking
far too cheerful - and rather natty in a striking neo-Hanfu business suit. It was all the latest rage on Sian, part of his mother's ‘Xin Sheng’ movement launched to give the Confederation a new sense of unity, purpose and hope as she moved it from the dark days of Romano, remodeling it much as she had Saint Ives - drawing on Terran Chinese history for much of her inspiration...
But he knew Kai hated the clothes as much as Victor hated
his suit.
Both men put smiles on their faces however, pretending they liked wearing their clothes even if they would vastly prefer the hard and rough kevlar of a cooling vest...
Immediately after Kai followed the closest family of the apparent Duchess; her relatives from Corona. Then came some of her household staff led by Kai Brevik, her chief of staff and a few other VIPs from her staff whom the Duchess had chosen to sit in the places of honor on the stage.
Next came the
High Council; the rather grandiose name given to the personal advisors and counselors of the planetary ruler, who would sit on his left. Most of them had served the former Duchess and then the Regent Landers. Some had taken the change to Elsa as a chance to gracefully bow out as their age had caught up with them and so their chairs were for now empty; he would in fact be swearing in their replacements as part of the preliminaries to the investment itself.
But he couldn’t help but wish
more of them had taken the chance to resign rather than cling to their positions.
Because some of them moved slower than an
Annihilator with shattered knee joints...
“HAIL VICTOR!” the Sergeant at Arms barked into the silence when the last of them reached their seat. Eventually.
“Hail Victor!” the assembled masses chanted back.
“LONG MAY HE REIGN!”the ex-NCO politely screamed.
“Long may he reign!” the rest of the locals agreed quickly, clearly not
daring to disagree with the man.
With
that out of the way, Victor stood to attention, swiveling on his heel to face Kai and the line of VIP’s behind him to offer a formal half bow. Straightening, they returned the gesture much deeper - Kai exchanging the briefest glance with him that spoke volumes of their mutual dislike of this kind of excessive veneration- before he repeated the gesture with the councillors flanking to his left. And then finally he repeated the gesture straight ahead to the assembled masses gaining a mass bow in return … except for one cute young schoolgirl in the front row who offered an impeccable curtsy by mistake. A wave of laughter and snickers erupted from the other children around her until rapid hissed commands from a number of teachers silenced the mockery, but the poor girl none the less looked like she wanted to melt through the floor right now and vanish as the focus of the entire room briefly oriented on her mistake.
Victor could sympathise with her quite a bit in that moment.
Settling himself, he switched on the tiny headset/microphone he was wearing with a touch of a control cunningly worked into a watch on his wrist.
“Please, be seated” he said, and waited for everyone to settle themselves before continuing in a clear, steady voice. “In the name of First Prince Hanse Davion on this day, May the Tenth in the year Three Thousand and Fifty Three I, Archduke Victor Steiner-Davion acting as Duke of Arendelle in this matter hereby declare this special sitting of the Royal Court of Arendell, open. Per standing order one-three, I now assume the chairmanship - the Scribe of the Court will note these events accordingly”.
“
So noted, My Prince” a voice confirmed formally from somewhere off stage and he nodded, letting his formal expression softened to a much more friendly one.
So far, so good.“First, I would like to welcome, on behalf of the people of Arendelle, all those who have also traveled a great distance to be here with us today. Most especially Kai Allard-Liao” he gestured to his right. His friend stood briefly to offer a half bow in thanks of the polite applause that generated before he sat back down. “And a
very warm welcome indeed” Victor continued gesturing past Kai to the trio next to him, “to the Duke and Duchess of Corona and their daughter, the Countess of Pomerelia. They did Arendelle the enormous honour of providing a loving home to their niece and cousin, the Lady Anna Jorgensson, after the tragic death of her parents. And for that, we thank them, deeply”.
A second wave of applause accompanied by a wave of ‘Here Here!” comments thundered through the room as the locals showed their appreciation for the two sisters distant family helping out during a difficult time. The two elder nobles rose with a great dignity to offer a bow and a curtsy to the applauding locals, while the younger Rapunzel shyly offered more of a brief dip ... with the dimples in her smile more devastating than a
Black-Hawks Alpha Strike.
Of course, why Elsa had sent Anna away for the last few years was still a great mystery and source of confusion for Victor. From what little he ‘knew’ of her from Ardans comments and his chat with Roger Landers yesterday …
Although he would be the first to admit he barely knew Anna and hadn’t even met Elsa yet, something in the reluctant part of his mind that had been trained in the polite vipers nest of court politics was nagging him about the disconnection between the two young women, insisting he was missing, well,
something...
Still, it really wasn’t any of his business. Even as Elsa's boss, how she related to her sister was up to her and no-one else. But at the least, he could thank their relatives for looking after Anna; he had caught enough from Anna yesterday to guess shrewdly that they may well have helped her through a rather bad place after her parents death.
Finishing up the introduction of the necessary people who merited a personal acknowledgement from him, Victor then turned to glance at the Sergeant at Arms, who had remained standing rigidly at attention in a way that would have had drill instructors all over the AFFC nodding in approval.
“Sergeant at Arms; stand easy and proceed with the agenda of the day” he ordered as he settled onto the throne. It was surprisingly comfortable compared to either of his Parents thrones that he had tried out at one time or another, with more cushions and not quite as much beaten Gold over marble.
He still thought it could use at least a
few Pulse Lasers, but suppressed the thought -and his grin- as the Sergeant-At-Arms saluted, then turned to demand with a roar for the Bishop of Arendelle City to come forth and proceed with the opening prayer
- seeming to almost give the poor man a heart attack.