Camaraderie is Sorcery

by FireOfTheNorth

Chapter 4:12.1 - The King is Dead...

Chapter 4:12.1 – The King is Dead …

Rain beat against the crumbling walls of the Sea Keep, widening cracks in the gray stone and chipping away loose bits. Braziers had been lit within the castle to keep the inhabitants warm, but in King Alhert’s bedchambers the heat was stifling, packed as it was with ponies. The rooms normally had too much empty space, a bit too much unused area between the furniture; big and small blazes were commonly lit here to warm it even in the summer when cool sea breezes blew in from the royal porch. Now, however, it was stuffed with nearly every important noble, sorceress, and priestess in Fillidelfiyaa. They talked quietly with each other while Alhert lay in his bed, barely holding on to his life.

Near the bed, not partaking in any conversation, was Ser Gavron, whose eyes glistened as he watched the labored rise and fall of his fourth cousin and sovereign’s chest. He was the only blood relative Alhert had in the room, and he only shared half of the king’s crest on his emblem. Alhert’s sole surviving daughter Persimmone was on her way as quickly as a carriage could go. She’d been summoned when it became apparent that her father was in his last days, but Gavron was convinced she wouldn’t arrive in time—not without the aid of sorcery, which wouldn’t be allowed. When she did arrive, she would bring trouble with her in the form of her husband, Robar, Crown Prince of Manehattan. The son of King Alhert’s bitter enemy King Hadish was the heir to his throne, not his daughter or the knight who’d loyally served him all his life, no matter how distantly they were related. Fillidelfiyaan succession laws were very clear on the matter, and Gavron cursed them now daily. House Caramon had been plagued by unforeseen disaster, clearing it out so that the unthinkable was now true after King Alhert drew his last breath, an enemy would sit on the Fillidelfiyaan throne.

“Persimmone? Where is Persimmone?” the king asked weakly as he rolled his head upon his royal pillow, his once lustrous mane now brittle and dry as it scraped against the fabric.

“She is not here, my liege,” Gavron choked out, and Alhert turned his head to face him. His gaze was unfocused, but there was a brief light in it as he locked eyes with the knight.

“Ah, Gavron,” the old king said, comforted. “Tell me when Persimmone arrives.”

“Yes, my liege,” Gavron said sorrowfully for the twentieth time that night.

A nearby group of ponies looked over at Gavron, and one motioned to a compatriot, the sorcerer Massif, who trotted over to the knight.

“Come, Gavron,” Massif said as he placed a massive hoof upon his armored shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do for him.”

Reluctantly, Gavron was led away to join the cluster of ponies nearby. Mostly they were nobles, though there was a sorceress besides Massif in the group.

“What will become of Fillidelfiyaa?” a noblemare bemoaned as she looked between Alhert’s dying form and her drink.

“I’ll tell you what’ll become of Fillidelfiyaa,” a shorter-than-average count with a fiery red mane and beard and temperament to match said. “It won’t exist anymore. We’ll be just another province of Manehattan. It may happen slowly, but it’ll happen.” He gave a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

“It’s already been happening,” Baron Hadrian said evenly as he inclined his head at another group of nobles.

In most ways it resembled their own cluster of ponies, apart from one significant detail: around their necks or on their clothing, they wore a red gem or a crossed circle instead of a seven-pointed star. They were adherents of the True Faith, as opposed to the majority of the kingdom’s population, which still followed the Church of One. They were also devoid of unicorns or sorceresses and didn’t seem quite as concerned as the other ponies milling around the king’s bedchambers.

The others turned back to Hadrian after surreptitiously observing the True Faith adherents. Though nothing had been said, he was recognized as the leader among them. Long had he been King Alhert’s favored general, most recently winning him new southern lands in the Seventeenth Trade War but not the victory the king had wanted. Perhaps if he’d sent me north instead of insisting on leading the army there himself… History was full of “what ifs” and dwelling on them wouldn’t change anything in the moment. Alhert had not sent Hadrian to the north, but to the south, and then granted him lordship over the lands there but not a new title. On parchment, Hadrian was still just Baron of Trotston, but he didn’t begrudge his liege that … much. He was loyal to the death to King Alhert, but could he be as loyal to Robar? Furthermore, would Robar accept such loyalty? A shakeup of the magnitude that would soon strike Fillidelfiyaa’s throne would certainly cause the fall of old favorites and the rise of new ones. Hadrian looked over at the True Faith adherents again.

“We should have stopped this long ago,” the short count grumbled as he glared openly at the group that would soon rise in status.

“We should have,” Hadrian agreed, “But what’s done is done. All we have now is what we will do.”

“And what will you do?” Gavron asked with suspicion as he looked at Hadrian with still-tearful eyes.

“I don’t know,” Hadrian admitted, glancing between Gavron and Massif before turning back to look at Alhert.

The frail king was beckoning weakly with a foreleg, and Bishop Hairus approached him. A grave look crossed her face, and she motioned the other priestesses forward to give Alhert his last rites.

“This is it then. Come, let us observe the end,” Hadrian said as he placed a hoof behind Gavron and propelled him to Alhert’s bedside.

“… thus I do proclaim thee reconciled to thy goddess and no longer consigned to the Long Dark and Torment of the Abyss,” Bishop Hairus was saying as they approached, and she looked up briefly at the crowd pressing in before continuing the script she’d completed many times before, one of the few rites spoken in Low Equestrian so that all could understand the words immediately. “When thy soul departs its flesh, may thou wash up safely upon the Frozen Shore, and may thy journey to the gates of the Heavens be short and free from trial. Holy Faust shall embrace thee and thou shalt be reunited with thy true-believing kin and the trials and tribulations of this life shall be naught but a memory. With these words, my stewardship of thou art finished, and I entrust thee into the care of Faust and Her Holy Chargers.”

A silence fell over the room, smothered as it was by heat, smoke, and incense. Bishop Hairus stepped back from the bed, and Alhert turned to face away from her and her priestesses and toward the assembled nobility. His throat and jaw moved as if he was trying to say something, but no sound came out. At last he managed to get his mouth open, and his breath rattled for several long seconds before he was able to speak.

“I’m … sorry,” he said, so quietly that only those nearest him could make out the words, “I … failed … I … failed you.”

Alhert’s breathing grew more labored, and if he was intending to say anything else, he never got the chance. The air hissed out of him, and his chest remained motionless. The royal physician beside the bed approached cautiously and examined his king. Looking dour, he stepped back, all eyes in the room on him.

“King Alhert VI of Fillidelfiyaa, Lord of the Blue and White Mountains, has breathed his last,” he announced solemnly. “The king is dead!”

“The king is dead,” the assembled ponies repeated somberly.

***

Three days later, the Brave Companions assembled outside Golden Oak’s laboratory. After King Alhert’s death, sorceresses had spread the news quickly across Equestria. One message sent by pegasus relay had winged its way across the Blue Mountains and over the White Mountains to Ponieville, presented to Twilight Sparkle but addressed to all six of them. Despite having no real ties to the Kingdom of Fillidelfiyaa, they’d been invited to the funeral of King Alhert. Games were being played, but Twilight Sparkle wasn’t sure by whom. It could be a trap to lure some of Cant’r Laht’s greatest assets into unfriendly territory, or it could be thanks for saving Alhert from possession by Discord and a recognition of the weight the famed Brave Companions would add to the event. It could also be part of yet another plot to prevent Robar from taking the throne of Fillidelfiyaa and melding it with Manehattan, though Twilight felt that it was too late for that now. The djinn was out of the bottle, as some might say. Now that Robar was king, even if he hadn’t yet been coronated, he and Persimmone’s children would inherit if anything were to happen to him. Twilight still wouldn’t discount an attempt to drag them into any burgeoning schemes.

The safest decision might have been not to go at all, but that could send the wrong message as well. The Brave Companions had gotten a reputation for coming when needed (even when they weren’t asked); to abandon Fillidelfiyaa and ignore their call now that Robar was on the throne would send a slight that could propel the Kingdom of Cant’r Laht into a war both with Fillidelfiyaa and Manehattan—something that neither Celestia nor Luna wanted. The Brave Companions would be going to Fillidelfiyaa, to attend Alhert’s funeral and to see what was going on, but they would have to be careful.

Though the funeral wasn’t until the next day, they would be arriving in Fillidelfiyaa early and staying the night. The Fillidelfiyaans had prepared for their arrival, as it said in their letter; Twilight confirmed this after scrying the spot where she was to meet them. A collection of dignitaries had assembled and was awaiting their appearance; meanwhile, the sorceress was trying to get everypony in order back at home. That task was more difficult than it rightfully should have been. For such an important and formal event as a king’s funeral, Rarity had insisted upon making the Brave Companions fitting attire, but since the invitation had come so soon before they had to leave, her dressmaking work was still in progress. She had a lot of raw materials and instruments she needed to complete them that night, which had to be redistributed so that they could be carried in saddlebags. Ream and Baldavin were willing to bear a large portion of the load, but it was still no easy process. Fortunately, Twilight had talked Rarity out of making anything new for herself or Rainbow Dash, since the sorceress already had appropriate clothing and Rainbow Dash wouldn’t be seen in anything but her Hunter armor. On top of the sartorial situation, remnants of the party thrown in the square a week earlier were still being cleaned up and taken away in front of the laboratory, not to mention that ponies kept approaching Pinkamena to ask questions.

By the time everything was sorted and they were ready to leave, the sun was nearing the horizon and had probably already sunk below the mountains in Fillidelfiyaa. Before anything else could delay them, Twilight Sparkle opened a portal and led the Brave Companions through. Her portal opened beneath a canopy that had been set up for them in the fields outside Fillidelfiyaa, where the kingdom’s army had been encamped when Twilight and Rainbow Dash had come here before the Seventeenth Trade War. The ponies waiting to greet them roused themselves as the eight ponies and dragonling stepped through and the portal snapped shut behind them, cutting off the calls of ponies disassembling a stage. Servants unfurled banners for the lords and ladies; Twilight briefly regretted not bringing her house’s crest or having one made for the Brave Companions, but there was no reason to further burden Ream and Baldavin.

Five members of the Fillidelfiyaan nobility had arrived to meet them, and Twilight tried to identify them by their banners, having spent most of her time since receiving the invitation reading up on Fillidelfiyaan houses and politics. Beneath the banner of House Clayborn was Duchess Ocean Sight, a mare with a blue coat and silvery mane whose tresses were piled high upon her head. Count Runik of House Gama stood beside her, a stallion standing no taller than Spike, his spiky red beard and mane contrasting with his pale blue coat. Standing somewhat apart from the others was Countess Alain of House Shoen, a mare with a navy coat and violet mane. She eyed the Brave Companions dubiously while toying with a pendant around her neck that declared her adherence to the True Faith. Forming the core of the group was Baron Hadrian of Trotston, Lord of House Rimmel. He was taller than the other ponies, perhaps due to some Saddle Arabian blood in his lineage, and stood regally, his coat mostly a creamy yellow other than the brown on his muzzle and fetlocks that matched his mane. Before him stood the pony who had greeted the Brave Companions on both their previous visits to Fillidelfiyaa: Ser Gavron of House Inthrid-Caramon. His tabard was made in far deeper shades of blue and green than usual, the fabric nearly black, a sign of his mourning for the king.

“Greetings, Brave Companions, from Fillidelfiyaa,” Gavron said as he approached, acting much more subdued than in previous encounters.

“Greetings, Ser Gavron, Duchess Ocean Sight, Count Runik, Countess Alain, Baron Hadrian,” Twilight Sparkle replied, looking to each in turn, evoking interest from most but worry from Alain. “Our condolences on your loss.”

“The king is dead,” Gavron said mechanically, his eyes drifting to the ground.

“Long live the king,” the others replied with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

“Come, a place has been prepared for you in the Outlanders’ Quarter,” Baron Hadrian said as he beckoned for the group to begin their journey to Fillidelfiyaa before the twilight dimmed enough to make finding the way difficult without torchlight.

“Th’ Outlanders’ Quarter?” Applejack asked.

“Yes, it’s a bit more crowded than usual at the moment, but we managed to find enough space for you,” Hadrian replied.

It seemed that this time the Brave Companions shouldn’t expect any special accommodations. It was too much to hope that Robar would grant them space in the Sea Keep as King Alhert had (especially with the rebuilding going on from the last time they’d entered the ancient stone fortress); and Countess Arethea wouldn’t be putting them up in her manor, not after she’d been executed for her plot to kill the king. They’d be staying in the usual place designated for foreign ambassadors important enough to warrant special attention but not important enough to be granted proximity to the king. The Outlanders’ Quarter was located at the base of the cliff upon which the Sea Keep was built, near the coast (at least until Fillidelfiyaa’s next unscheduled burning and rebuilding). Unlike an inn, it would cost them nothing to stay here, and it was safer; but the guards that patrolled the perimeter weren’t just for their own protection. The message was clear: don’t stray. The party of nobles led them there, making mostly meaningless small talk on the way, before leaving them to get settled in for the next day’s event.

When Hadrian had said that the Outlanders’ Quarter had been more crowded than usual, he’d given Twilight the impression that there were many foreign visitors who’d come to pay their respects to King Alhert and see King Robar crowned. While there were some staying there for that purpose, they weren’t the primary occupants of the quarter. Instead, a large group of Saddle Arabians who’d fled their homeland after its conquest were housed there on a more or less permanent basis. While Rarity finished her work on the Brave Companions’ funeral attire, Twilight Sparkle spent her time speaking to them and offering to unite them with their kin in Ponieville. While some refused, most agreed to Twilight’s offer and would leave with the Brave Companions after the funeral. It was late at night when Twilight finally returned and everyone took to their beds, prepared as well as they could be for the ceremony on the morrow.

***

The day of the funeral dawned cold and gray, but no rain fell from the clouds above. Those who had been invited to King Alhert’s funeral made their way in small groups up to the Sea Keep, proceeding up the twisting path to the bluff lined with banners bearing the flag of Fillidelfiyaa, the standard of House Caramon, and King Alhert VI’s personal standard, flapping weakly in the wind. The Brave Companions joined the staggered procession going to the summit, keeping silent among themselves for the moment. Rarity’s work had paid off in the dresses that she, Fluttershy, Applejack, and Pinkamena wore, tailored to suit their individual personalities and professions while remaining appropriate for the solemnity of the occasion. She had even managed to create an outfit for Spike, finally becoming accustomed after years of practice to tailoring for a dragonling’s anatomy. Rainbow Dash wore the Hunter armor she always did, though she had spent considerable time the night before cleaning and oiling it so that the leather now shone dark and rich, and nopony could complain. Twilight Sparkle wore her sorceress robes meant for such important events, complete with a stole covered in archaic runes that hung down nearly to her hooves. She had to be constantly mindful of it and occasionally levitated the ends to keep from tripping or dragging them across the grimy cobblestones. Such attire would normally be accompanied by the traditional wide-brimmed, pointed hat, but instead Twilight wore her royal tiara. It was the first time she’d worn it since her brief temporary rule of Cant’r Laht at the beginning of the year; and though it had been designed to be worn either alone or interlocked with the Element of Sorcery, it had looked strange to her sans Element when she’d viewed herself in a looking glass. She wondered if a redesign was possible and knew Rarity would likely have some ideas, but it would have to wait until they’d fulfilled their duties here and returned to the Kingdom of Cant’r Laht.

Guards in Fillidelfiyaan livery lined the last span of the approach to the Sea Keep, standing at attention with eyes fixed forward. Though there was no submission of invitation to confirm that only invitees were entering the keep, the guards were ready to deter and, if necessary, detain anypony who looked like they shouldn’t be admitted to King Alhert’s funeral. The Brave Companions were allowed to pass without comment, and Ream and Baldavin split off from them as they entered the castle to join with the other guards who had accompanied their charges to the funeral. Castle servants waited inside, but it wasn’t difficult to find the way to the great hall even without their direction. They merely had to follow the attendees ahead of them.

Banners of the Kingdom of Fillidelfiyaa, House Caramon, and King Alhert VI hung within the great hall as they had outside, interspersed with tapestries portraying Alhert’s reign. Most of them depicted events early in the king’s life, when he had been a young and dynamic ruler, long before the tragic loss of most of his house and the onset of old age. The tapestries hung low, but it was still difficult to make out the details higher-up. Like most of the Sea Keep, its great hall had walls of thick stone, and the only windows were set up high and didn’t allow much light in even on a sunny day. Braziers and torches had been lit, but not nearly enough to fully illuminate the space, so as not to disturb the king’s body.

Alhert was in the center of the hall, his body lying upon its back in a square-ended canoe that floated in a basin of water, as was tradition. The king looked even more aged than the last time the Brave Companions had seen him, but a peace and vitality seemed to have returned to his features beneath the wear and wrinkles, due to a short-term enchantment meant to preserve his corpse until burial. He was dressed in his finest garb and bedecked with gold, silver, and gem-studded jewelry in the form of necklaces and torcs, including a crown upon his head that had been made for his burial – the real crown of Fillidelfiyaa waiting for its next owner elsewhere. A sheathed sword was tucked beneath his forelegs, its pommel nearly touching his chin, and other weapons and treasures had been placed in the canoe alongside him. Ice floated in the water around the vessel, the reason for keeping the braziers far and dim, but that was likely unnecessary apart from efficiency; Twilight could sense that the ice was maintained by sorcery. She looked around for the pony responsible and spotted Massif standing at a distance but facing the king directly, and he motioned to the Brave Companions.

After finishing paying their respects, the Brave Companions heeded the gesture and made their way over to Massif. When Twilight and Rainbow Dash had first come here during the Seventeenth Trade War, Massif had been behind the conspiracy to assassinate Robar and Persimmone, but Twilight had been unable to acquire any solid proof of his involvement that could be presented to the king, and so he had gone free. He couldn’t be trusted, but neither could he be ignored. The funeral’s attendees stood in knots around the great hall speaking in low tones, and one cluster had formed around Massif that included the ponies that had greeted the Brave Companions the night before apart from Countess Alain.

“Brave Companions,” Baron Hadrian greeted them before introducing the unknowns in the group, “Baron Fellwinter, Countess Dorea, the sorceress Billingsbrook.”

“Greetings and well met,” Twilight Sparkle replied for the group.

“I must ask,” said Baron Fellwinter, a pegasus lord whose long mane was held back by the simple circlet on his brow, “How does Celestia intend to respond?”

“And Luna,” interjected Billingsbrook, a unicorn whose stole featured no ancient runes but did include many stars and constellations.

“What do you mean by ‘respond’?” asked Twilight.

“When Queen Helianthus of Los Pegasus died, she—they sent the Brave Companions to broker peace,” Fellwinter said, correcting himself after a glance from Billingsbrook.

Nopony outside of the Brave Companions and Cant’r Laht’s regents knew about their true mission to retrieve the Stellaetrix, and so their coincidental meetings with the factions fighting for the Crown of Los Pegasus last year were considered the reason for their journey by most.

“There was a civil war in Los Pegasus. Do you expect the same here?” Twilight asked carefully.

“I pray Fillidelfiyaa doesn’t fall into such circumstances, or meet the same fate,” Baron Hadrian said, referring to Los Pegasus’s eventual division into three separate realms. “Yet, I cannot discount the possibility.”

“Queen Helianthus died with no clear successor,” Rarity interjected. “I thought the succession was established here.”

“It is, but not everypony may be willing to accept Robar on the throne,” Duchess Ocean Sight said.

“It’s no secret how King Hadish deals with non-earth ponies, sorceresses, and worshipers of Faust,” Baron Fellwinter said.

“But … Robar isn’t Hadish,” Fluttershy spoke up.

“No, a son is not always his father,” Fellwinter begrudgingly admitted. “But is that a risk worth waiting for?”

He looked past the Brave Companions, and some of them turned to follow his gaze. Standing at a distance was Robar with another group of courtiers. Like his father, his coat was red, though his was closer to wine than cherry, but his mane and tail were a burnt orange instead of pitch black. His attire was simple but still respectful for the funeral of his father-in-law. Upon his head was no crown, merely the circlet that denoted him as crown prince of Manehattan, a silver band with a prominent ruby upon his forehead. Nearby stood a priest of the True Faith, standing out in his red robes and looking about with discomfort and disdain at the funeral. Countess Alain stood among the courtiers around Robar, and it wouldn’t have been a shock to discover that the others were followers of the True Faith as well. They were all earth ponies, but then, so were most of the ponies in the room. The time in which unicorns ruled Equestria was long past.

“He is not Hadish,” Hadrian said firmly, “But, to bring things back around, do Regents Celestia and Luna intend to let the Vasa-Elutria dynasty, and their persecution of all who disagree with them, spread?”

“I don’t see as there’s much choice,” Rainbow Dash scoffed.

“There is always a choice,” Hadrian said, though his eyes were on Ser Gavron, not the Hunter.

“The Kingdom of Cant’r Laht will not be going to war with Manehattan and Fillidelfiyaa,” Twilight Sparkle said, putting an end to that line of questioning. “Though Los Pegasus is splintered and Vanhuv’r is dealing with the bison, there are too many threats on our borders to engage in such a conflict.”

“In other words, High Priestess Rubius would have to call a crusade, and unite all the other realms against them,” Count Runik said gruffly. “Fat chance of that.”

The diminutive count was right; a crusade hadn’t been called in thousands of years, not since before the Conjunction. Even if she were to call one, it was uncertain if anypony would actually answer the call, even to join forces against King Hadish and his kin, or if the cardinals and bishops would support the high priestess’s actions. It could be just the thing to give them the opportunity to oust her and put a more malleable mare in her place.

The hum of conversation in the great hall died as the sound of bells could be heard coming from Fillidelfiyaa’s cathedral, one of the few buildings in the city constructed from stone aside from the Sea Keep. They marked the departure of Bishop Hairus and her retinue, who would be starting their procession through the streets up to the keep, so that King Alhert’s former subjects could see the priestesses on their way to bury him. Ponies began to move from their groups, coaxed and directed by castle servants, to make way and prepare for the coming of the priestesses. The castle’s bells began to chime as they arrived and filed into the great hall, some chanting verse in the Language of the Horns while others carried censers and scrolls or books of the Word of Faust. They proceeded past King Alhert to the far end of the great hall where space had been cleared and halted.

Bishop Hairus read from the Word of Faust in the Language of the Horns, so only the priestesses and sorceresses and a few learned nobles understood what was said. Then she launched into a sermon that was both on kingship and the afterlife. Robar and his clique looked uncomfortable through the ordeal and the red priest had vanished, but to their credit, no objections were voiced during the bishop’s funeral sermon. Once she’d finished preaching (at least explicitly), Bishop Hairus recounted King Alhert’s reign and the deeds he had done, before finishing with his death and voyage to the Frozen Shore for one final journey to meet his goddess.

King Alhert’s mortal remains would be interred with his ancestors, and the bishop called forth those who would accompany his body to the House Caramon crypt. Typically, members of the king’s house would do so, but because he was so bereft of close relations, distant relatives had to fill the roles that Persimmone and Robar didn’t fall into, including carrying his body to the crypt. Among those who stepped forward was Ser Gavron, who waited for the lid to be affixed over Alhert’s prone form, turning his canoe into a coffin. Together, six ponies lifted it from the ice bath it had been floating in and carried it away to where it would be sealed in a stone casket as the kings of Fillidelfiyaa had been for many years.

Those left behind began to congregate again now that the funeral had concluded so far as their part in it was concerned. Some would be staying or return later for the funeral feast, but many of the ponies in the room were from minor or distant fiefs and hadn’t received an invitation for that part of the ceremony. They began to leave almost immediately after the priestesses and funeral party had vanished. The Brave Companions were in the group that had been invited to the funeral but not the feast and could return to Ponieville at any time, after retrieving their belongings from the Outlanders’ Quarter and taking the Saddle Arabians there with them. For the moment, though, they stayed, and found themselves part of the same circle they had been speaking with before.

“There will be some rebellion, of one sort or another,” Massif said as he watched some of the ponies leaving the great hall, able to speak more freely now that he no longer had to maintain the ice in the pool for King Alhert’s coffin. “The question is how far it will spread, and how organized it will be.”

“Do you think rebellion is inevitable?” Pinkamena asked as she cocked her head to the side questioningly.

“It is the way of things when one monarch is replaced by another,” Massif said as he stroked his long, white beard, “Especially when the new king is unpopular with a large portion of his new vassals.”

“All heeded the summons and were here today,” Duchess Ocean Sight pointed out.

“For the burial of a king who, in spite of his faults and errors late in life, was still very much beloved,” Hadrian said. “Who attends, or rather who is absent from, Robar’s coronation, will speak much more loudly.”

“It may be only subtle acts or rebellion, such as failure to pay taxes as a negotiation of their relationship to the king, but I don’t think it will end there,” Billingsbrook said, “Robar is not his father, but he is too much his father’s son and too much a student of the Fiery Isle. Sorceresses are already unwelcome in the Sea Keep, and soon I fear they will no longer be welcome in Fillidelfiyaa.”

“What are lords and ladies denied their court wizards to do?” Massif, former court wizard of King Alhert, asked.

Privately, many thought they could get along just fine without their interference and the whispers they placed in their masters’ ears, but they were useful, and anypony without one would be at a disadvantage. As the group continued to speak about the possibility of rebellion while skirting anything explicitly treasonous, the burial party returned to the great hall. Ser Gavron, for the moment, stayed with some of his relatives instead of rejoining the group. Robar surprised the hall by trotting past his group of loyal co-religionists and making his way instead straight for the Brave Companions. At his side was his wife, Persimmone, who had removed her veil of mourning now that her father was buried, and her eyes could be seen, swollen from the tears she had shed but dry now that the deed was completed and she’d bid farewell to the king. Robar looked discomforted (either by what he was doing or the mere idea of striding so close to sorceresses) but also resolved as he made his way across the floor and stopped in front of the dignitaries from the Kingdom of Cant’r Laht.

“Brave Companions, I know you were a friend to my father-in-law, and I thank you for coming to his funeral,” Robar said, with the anticipation of something else in his voice.

“Of course,” Twilight Sparkle replied, “King Alhert did not always—or ever—heed our counsel, but he had the wisdom to hear it, and sometimes that is all one can ask.”

“Indeed,” Robar said, though his terseness and the stiffness of his jaw made it clear that he found the idea of hearing the Brave Companions’ counsel objectionable. “I wish for you to stay in Fillidelfiyaa for my coronation in two days’ time, as thanks for saving my life and that of my wife.”

“We would be honored,” Twilight said, surprised by the invitation.

“Do not mistakenly think my view of sorceresses has weakened,” Robar said as he stared Celestia’s apprentice down, “Just as I have not forgotten your service, I have not forgotten that it was a sorceress that was behind our attack in the first place. Indeed, had such not been the case, I would have questioned your sincerity in saving me, suspecting it to be a plot to gain sympathy for your kind. Nevertheless, I do harbor gratitude for your act, and would grant you and your companions some measure of leniency.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said. I think.

Robar gave the other members of the group, particularly Massif and Billingsbrook, dubious looks before trotting away to speak to others in the hall. Perhaps, despite Robar’s hard words assuring them of his hardness, there was some hope for sorceresses in Fillidelfiyaa yet, or at least the opportunity for the Brave Companions to influence a change. It seemed they would be staying there for a little longer.

***

The development that they would be attending not only one, but two important events put Rarity all into a bustle, and she insisted on making the Brave Companions another set of fine attire. This time, Twilight didn’t try to exclude herself, though Rainbow Dash still insisted that her Hunter armor was just fine. While Rarity and the others spent the day after the funeral scouring Fillidelfiyaa for the fabrics she needed (and some that would be cheaper to buy here and send back to Ponieville for future projects), Twilight worked to reunite the Saddle Arabians with their fellows in Ponieville via portal. A few more that had originally turned down her offer had even changed their minds and decided to add to the growing community on the east side of the Equestry River. As homes for them went up continuously, they could quickly find a place to live, sheltered from the impending winter.

The clouds cleared temporarily on the morning of the coronation, revealing a red sunrise over the Shimmering Sea and a crisp blue sky once the sun had ascended. The coronation was also to be held in the Sea Keep’s great hall, so ponies once again made the ascent to Fillidelfiyaa’s castle. Banners lined the path again, though naturally there were changes. Gone were the standards of House Caramon, the heron on a blue and green checkerboard replaced with the two-headed fire-breathing dragon on a shield over indented black and red of House Vasa-Elutria. The personal standards of King Alhert VI were also gone, replaced by the new standard of Robar, the banners freshly created. It was a variation of the House Vasa-Elutria standard, with the crown of Fillidelfiyaa draped over the upper right corner of the shield bearing the dragon, leaving space on the left for the crown of Manehattan he would eventually inherit.

The Sea Keep’s great hall had also been redecorated since the funeral, and not just with the banners replaced. The ice bath in which King Alhert’s body had lain had been removed, and great braziers had been brought in to light up the sizeable room. Though it was a chill day, the high windows were opened to allow the smoke and some of the heat from the great bonfires to escape. Thronelike seats, but not the actual throne of Fillidelfiyaa itself, had been placed at the head of the room, the banners of House Vasa-Elutria and House Caramon draped behind them. The seats currently were vacant, and Robar and Persimmone were seated in separate chairs off to the sides. The gathering was far less informal than the funeral, and servants in Fillidelfiyaan livery—now with a dragon crest sewn to the shoulder—directed the Brave Companions to their places. They would stand with the observers, ponies who had no part to play in the coronation other than to witness it. A few dignitaries from across the Shimmering Sea stood with them, as well as prominent Fillidelfiyaan merchants.

Bells rang in the Sea Keep’s belfry to signal the start of the ceremony, and the red priest Robar had been speaking to at the funeral called the room to order. In the intervening day, the Brave Companions had learned that the earth pony stallion was called Gallivant, and was Robar’s personal priest, recently raised to the rank of episcope in the True Faith. His first act after coronating Robar would no doubt be to establish a major temple in Fillidelfiyaa and bring the scattered temples already throughout the kingdom under his control. Simple red robes such as all red priests wore were draped over his mossy green coat, and a thin iron circlet with a crossed circle at the front rested upon his head and held back his silvery white mane.

Gallivant would be leading the ceremony and placing the crown upon Robar’s head, but he would not be doing so for his queen. Persimmone was still a member of the Church of One, and so there were priestesses from Fillidelfiyaa’s cathedral here to fill that role. It was a divided ceremony, with Robar’s coronation at the forefront, but with Gallivant giving way at the appropriate times to let the priestesses do their work. Persimmone’s part in the ceremony was nothing like what Celestia and Luna had experienced upon becoming regents; she was not being coronated, merely crowned. There was no anointing with oil or oaths for her to speak, other than a charge to be loyal, diligent, and wise and so add to her husband’s reign. Mares could not inherit the royal throne in Fillidelfiyaa, and so though the crown came to Robar through their marriage, she would have no official power. The crowning ceremony took less time than a true coronation, and Robar’s part occupied the last and largest portion of the event.

“Robar, son of Hadish, son of Wexel,” Gallivant said after a long monologue of interspersed readings from the True Faith’s holy texts and kingly charges, “Draw your sword.”

From his belt, Robar drew an oddly shaped sword whose length was composed of four points twisted around each other.

“Do you offer your sword to the fire?” Gallivant asked.

“I do,” Robar said after thrusting the blade into a large brazier ahead of him so that the hilt still stuck out, but the rest of the sword was engulfed in flames.

“Do you swear to rule with zealous fervor, to defend the tenets of the Faith and the lives of your subjects, consigning all that is evil to ash?” Gallivant asked.

“I do,” Robar swore.

“Do you swear to provide for your subjects, to enrich their lives with a bounteous flow of mercy and justice in equal measures?” Gallivant asked.

“I do,” Robar swore again.

“Do you swear to be steadfast and resolute, to be a king to which your subjects can look for guidance and solidarity and an unchanging, unflinching resolve to support them?” Gallivant asked with great emotion.

“I do,” Robar swore.

“Do you swear to bring greatness to your kingdom, to raise it up beyond what it is, and to keep it moving safe from any spears that would be flung against it?” Gallivant asked.

“I do,” Robar swore.

“Do you offer your life to the fire?” Gallivant asked.

“I do,” Robar said, reaching into the pouch on his belt, situated on the opposite side of his body from where the sword had been, pulled out a piece of parchment bearing his name, and tossed it into the fire.

“Draw out your sword!” Gallivant commanded.

Robar obeyed and pulled the sword from the fire, the coils now red hot. The intense heat caused his eyes to narrow and water, but he didn’t shy away from or drop the sword and instead held it high for all to see.

“Robar, Crown Prince of Fillidelfiyaa is dead, consumed by the flames,” Gallivant said as he dramatically gestured to the brazier. “By the fury of fire, the cooling provision of water, the stalwartness of stone, and the freedom of air, I now declare you King Robar, First of His Name, King of Fillidelfiyaa and Lord of the Blue and White Mountains!”

Gallivant turned swiftly to another red priest standing nearby with the crown of Fillidelfiyaa and took it before reaching over the still-glowing sword and placing it upon Robar’s head.

“All hail the king!” Gallivant shouted.

“All hail the king! All hail the king! All hail the king!” the assembled nobles replied.

Robar trotted back to the twin seats and sat in the higher-backed one, joining his already crowned wife. The nobility of Fillidelfiyaa were then called forward to give their oaths of fealty to the newly crowned king. Robar kept the sword in his mouth until it had fully cooled and then laid it down crosswise before him, a reminder of his rebirth now that he was crowned. As the nobles filed forward to make their oaths, it was impossible not to notice that there were fewer than there had been at Alhert’s funeral. More importantly, there were some conspicuous absences, particularly from the group the Brave Companions had spent time speaking with. Massif and Billingsbrook were absent, but that was to be expected; they held no landed titles, and sorceresses were now barred from the Sea Keep except under special circumstances. Duchess Ocean Sight and Baron Fellwinter were both here, their adherence to the laws of Fillidelfiyaa apparently winning out over their uneasiness at the idea of Robar’s rule. Count Runik and Countess Dorea, however, were missing, as well as any members of House Inthrid-Caramon, including Ser Gavron, though he wouldn’t have been invited to the coronation since he held no title. Most conspicuously of all, Baron Hadrian was missing, something that the Brave Companions heard whispered multiple times among the nobility as they made their way up to swear to Robar.

After oaths had been made, there would be a feast in the same great hall, which required a temporary move of the nobility to the throne room where they could beseech King Robar for coronation boons. While they relocated themselves, Robar would step outside to present himself to his new subjects. First, however, he made his way to the observers to thank them for attending the coronation and setting into motion plans to improve relations between his kingdom and theirs. He approached the Brave Companions last, looking once again uncomfortable in their presence.

“Brave Companions, I thank you for coming and wish you … safe travels as you return home,” Robar said.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Twilight said. No invitation to the feast, then. No surprises there.

“As I have said, I am willing to grant a certain … leniency to you in remembrance of past service and in recognition of how well known you are throughout Equestria,” Robar continued. “However, I do not intend to grant you the same latitude as my predecessor. Do not attempt to come to me or enter the Kingdom of Fillidelfiyaa without first requesting my permission. Am I clear?”

“Like crystal,” Rainbow Dash said with a sarcastic tone. Robar narrowed his eyes at her, but let it slide.

The new king looked like he might say something else, but a servant then burst into the mostly empty great hall and ran directly to him, breathing heavily.

“Your majesty, I bring fell news,” he said before looking in surprise at the Brave Companions standing nearby.

“Excuse me,” Robar said and wisely trotted away for some privacy, but not too far. Rainbow Dash’s Hunter hearing and Twilight’s sorcery was able to pick up what was said next.

“Your majesty, there is a great revolt in the south that has gathered many of your vassals,” the servant reported. “Baron Hadrian of Trotston has declared that you are no fit king for Fillidefiyaa and has raised his banner in rebellion!”