Theodosius Valkorion's Arc

Chapter 6 of 22

The rumor reached Theodosius before breakfast. Heinrich brought it himself, into the high hall of the Starlit Palace, where blue glass threw pale light across the floor. A servant girl had been chased from a bread line for wearing the new banner. A drunk in the wine district had shouted that a king who crowns himself is no king at all. By the second bell, three watch reports said the same thing in different streets. "They're saying the ceremony was empty," Heinrich said. "No anointing. No blessing. A soldier in a helmet placing a crown on his own head." Theodosius set the reports down. "How fast is it moving?" "Faster than my men can walk. If the provinces hear it before their spears march, some will turn back on the road." Theodosius thought of the western pass and the absent lord who sat on it. Twelve thousand foreign soldiers were twenty days out. He could not fight a war with a city whispering behind him. "Send for the Prime Consul," he said. The head of the state faith came within the hour, in white and pale blue vestments, sandals quiet on the tile. He was a small man with a kind face and tired eyes. He had not spoken at the self-crowning. He had not been asked to. Theodosius met him on the floor, not from the throne. He set the lotus crown on a low table between them, and beside it the star-marked blade, lightning still crawling faint along the steel. "You know what they're saying in the streets." "I have heard it, my king." "I crowned myself because I could not wait. I am asking you now to crown me again. In front of the city. In your words, with your rite." The Prime Consul looked at the blade a long time. He rested one finger on the flat of it. The lightning did not touch him. "The faith teaches that the blade knows its own," he said. "I would be a poor priest to argue with it." "Then say so from the temple steps. Today." "Today," the old man agreed. By afternoon the square was full. The Prime Consul stood on the temple steps in his white and blue and lifted the lotus crown in both hands. He named Theodosius heir, king, and living light of the state faith. He set the crown on Theodosius's head himself. Then he took the star-marked blade and held it up until the crawling light showed to the back of the crowd. The shouting for the previous regime did not come. A cheer started near the front and moved outward in a slow wave. Heinrich met him at the palace gate that evening with a fresh report. The whispers in the wine district had stopped. The province columns were still marching. He also carried a sealed letter. The absent lord of the western pass had written back. He would receive the king's envoy, but only at his own keep, and only alone.