After it disappeared on its own terms, the throne room was empty. I sat there, making no move, as if waiting for something. Staring at the cold stone floor, my mind was practically fuming; my hands were slick with sweat and it burned where they had rested against the chair for too long. My clothes felt suffocating while the room itself remained cold.
I breathed in and out slowly, sighing as I tried to calm myself. The only familiar company in this situation was emptiness and silence, where nothing seemed to matter. I had a connection to that shadowy thing—perhaps I could summon it if I wanted. The question was: should I?
A visitor entered, interrupting my thoughts, and bowed before me. "Your Excellency," the man said quietly, "I'm sorry to cut into the time you've set aside for your thoughts, but there are matters that await your attention."
I stared at him. The paintings adorning the room were like silent witnesses, their beauty a stark contrast to the confusion I felt—after all, I shouldn't even be here. Yet, through it all, I played along. As arrogantly and confidently as I could, I said, "Begin," with an emotionless face.
Though the room somehow felt lighter after the thing made of shadows had retreated to a corner, I was sure i could see it's face break into a mocking smile behind my sight. The bowing man furrowed brow gave him a questioning look, but he didn't dwell on it and continued speaking. "Your servants wait for the chance to swear their fealty to you—they are waiting for you to accept whenever you feel comfortable, of course. But before that, I am sad to say that His Highness would like to delay you swearing your oath, because of the ongoing events,but other than that their is no point in delaying your Excellency" he said as he bowed and left.
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After he left, the keyed hum threaded the brass and stone together until the air felt charged. Nobles filed forward in boots that scuffed the carved oath-phrases on the floor, each carrying a token of their status—carved wooden disks, merchant tally-staves, a ribboned scrap with a tradesman's knot. The chamberlain, My signet lay on the velvet like a patient eye.
I did my best to maintain an emotionless, unmoving face. ,as hall is filled with people once more,losing my one ture company
When the first noble came forward, he was a thin figure shrouded beneath a veil that glistened like wet shadow. His face was half-hidden; his eyes caught the dim light with a hollow, unblinking glow. Two braids slipped from beneath the fabric, framing a pale, expressionless face that seemed carved from grief. In his hand, he held a small gemstone shield, cradling it with the same tenderness one might give a fragile doll. He knelt, his knees striking the stone floor in a quiet percussion, and bared her hands, the wooden disks clicking into the chamberlain's palm. "I, Opal Blackshield, pledge my fealty and service to you, in faith and duty, now and always," he said in a low voice.
Then less ostentatious knights followed, their visors up and gauntlets at their sides, knees striking the stone in quiet rhythm. One by one they bared their hands and knelt, each repeating, "I, ....., pledge my fealty and service to you, in faith and duty, now and always."
They were followed by the barons. Among them was an eye-catching individual with a special aura about him. He had long, flowing crimson hair that cascaded far past his waist, curling and twisting at the ends like tendrils of smoke or blood. The intense red immediately made him stand apart from the others, evoking both regality and menace. His eyes were sharp and narrow, filled with unsettling intensity. They contrasted against his pale skin, giving him a piercing, otherworldly gaze. He was adorned in a richly detailed crimson coat, festooned with golden trim and strange eye-shaped motifs stitched into the fabric. "I, Cristine Heliotrope, pledge my fealty and service to you, in faith and duty, now and always," he said as he knelt.
The remaining barons followed, cloaked in braided blue and iron-gray. One after another, they knelt and intoned their oaths: "I, ...., pledge my fealty and service to you, in faith and duty, now and always."
A dozen others followed with their pledges. By that point, I was completely exhausted; most of the names mentioned, just flowed past me, except for two that stood out, even though the others also seemed intriguing and dangerous. They seemed perplexed by my lack of reaction—except for those two I rember by name, who seemed not to care.
Finally, it all came to an end.
What followed was feast which should have ,been way more relaxed ,
if only I knew this people