Empress Adirn Part 1 - The Coronation
“Are you definitely one hundred percent sure that you read the succession correctly?” Adirn asked. Even the skullery maid sighed, redoubling her efforts to polish the dressing room’s decorative skulls and ignore the new Empress Elect. Everyone was growing weary of hearing her questioning the rightful ascension; any gap in conversation suddenly became another repeat of the same futile complaining about her election.
“Yes, your eminence. Quite sure. Low down the list though you may be, you are eligible for election.” The Mistress of the Records, Katherine, said wearily with her chin leaning on both hands. Sitting at one of the lesser chiffoniers, her elbows were neatly sitting in the divots of an embossed deadly-nightshade petal on the table’s surface. There was a vast amount of ceremonial paperwork and bureaucracy to complete for the records of the coronation, and her place was in the library doing just that, but every few minutes the Empress Elect would drag her back up to feed that impostor complex she was nursing. None could blame her if the job of Empress sounded unappealing, especially after the bloody execution of her predecessor, but all of the other candidates had at least shown more imagination and variety in their excuses. Adirn’s efforts were just embarrassing.
The Empress Elect looked disappointedly at the floor, and saw the principal dressmaker lacing up the ceremonial calf-bracers. Pearl inlays in the shape of human femurs lined the outer edges of each one and cast prismatic reflections onto the man’s black uniform.
“But Baroness Heletrick is surely ahead of me and more suited to the task. The honour should go to her.”
“Baroness Heletrick, as well you have been told, has been forced to cede her eligibility. Her commitment to the Order of the Shining Knuckles is unbreakable.” Katherine said through a bored exhalation.
“Arms up please, your eminence.” The dressmaker requested.
“What about Duke Rossko?”Adirn tried, obligingly holding her arms out in a wide ‘T’.
“A sudden interest in reforming his own Duchy’s sect of the Cross Worshippers. Matters of the church are not to be interfered with by Imperial politics.”
“Maybe there’s still time for me to join the local convent.” Adirn muttered while deep lace wings were pinned onto the sleeves of her gown. Their black fabric was almost weightless but hung away from her outstretched arms with a graceful authority.
“Matters of the church are also not to be used in obvious attempts to circumvent the succession.” Katherine chided. “If you’d wanted to try that then you should have thought about it sooner.”
A frown crossed the face of the Empress Elect. She’d always been confused by the title, because the Empresses and Emperors of the Onyx Empire were only eligible for the position hereditarily, but now she was starting to understand. The position truly was elected, but only by those higher in the succession who could elect for the person below them to take it instead. Adirn finally recognised that she just hadn’t been quick enough to cast her vote.
“What about all these matters of state to which I’ll be expected to tend? I don’t know the first thing about negotiating a treaty, or declaring a war. And I certainly wouldn’t be choosing a village to send to the gallows for providing a poor harvest.”
“You have advisors and scholars to train you in those tasks and advise you on those decisions, your eminence.” Katherine told her. “Incapability has never stopped a ruler from taking the throne before, and it won’t stop you.”
“Then why not let the advisors just rule the Empire between themselves if they’re doing all the work anyway.” Adirn snapped.
“Because they are learned people, your eminence. Learned enough to avoid becoming the new Emperors or Empresses in name.”
“I don’t much like the way you’re speaking to me, Mistress of the Records. It sounds like you think me a fool.”
“A thousand apologies, your eminence. I won’t allow my tone to imply that there’s doubt about my opinions of you in future.” Katherine replied without looking at the Empress Elect.
Adirn sagged slightly through the chest, prompting a loud tut from the dressmaker who was trying to adjust the ceremonial gown’s laces to form a perfect grinning skull. Reflexively she straightened up again.
“Please try to hold still, your eminence. Lacing these baubles to run straight across your figure is a delicate process.”
“Heavens forbid that the pearl skulls on by bodice should be crooked.” Said the Empress Elect.
“Your divine radiance should be obvious in both your face and in your dress, your eminence.” Katherine said. “But since there are no further questions on your family tree, or succession rights, or those who do not stand between you and the throne, I shall return to my library. There is precious little time to complete my work now so I trust that another will be able to answer any further concerns you may have.”
“Yes… yes fine.” Adirn accepted, dismissively.
“Until later, my Empress.”
Adirn shuddered at her title. It was bad enough to have people using a euphemism of state rather than her actual name, but being the Empress of the Onyx Empire was a curse. She watched glumly as Katherine strode out, pulling the dressing room door closed behind herself with a click. With the Mistress of the Records went the final chance she could have had to avoid taking the throne legally, short of falling on a sword or being kidnapped on the way to the Stone Garden.
Gloomily, the Empress Elect looked about herself for any bright ray of hope, but saw nothing except the distinctly skeletal décor of the dressing room.
“Why does everything have to be so… so… macabre.” Adirn asked the dressmaker.
“Macabre, your eminence?” He humoured, his focus more on getting every pearly jawbone aligned with the brow below.
“I mean, just look at it in here for a start. The candle holder is a skeleton hand.” She said, quite truthfully. Sitting on the main dressing table, it rose up from a rose-shaped base and had fingers splayed in a wide wave. At the tip of every finger was a white wax candle, none of which were presently burning. Drips of wax ran between finger joints as if the skeleton had recently punched through a white-blooded chest and not found the time to wash its hands.
“It does the job. Just an odd curio from one of your divine predecessors I would imagine, your eminence.”
“I think it might be real bone though.”
“Waste not.” The dressmaker replied, giving a tug on Adirn’s waistband and expelling some of her authoritative breath.
“Ugh. Well wasting human bone doesn’t seem too tragic to me. But that was just an example. My dressing tables are all adorned with deadly plants and tableaux of people being poisoned. The door handle is in the shape of a dagger. All of my bedsheets are the darkest and deepest of blacks, the floorboards are joined with fangs, and I am fairly sure that no candelabra is supposed to have so many spikes on it.” She listed, eyes darting around and failing to fall on anything which wasn’t horrifying.
The dressmaker stopped his adjustments and looked at the Empress Elect’s face with curiosity. Slowly he allowed his gaze to move around the room and examine each of the elements she had mentioned in turn. Finally he looked back at Adirn, shrugged, and continued his work.
“Can’t say I’ve really noticed it before, your eminence. I think it’s all the height of taste and decadence, as befitting the choices of an Empress past.”
“Then such taste doesn’t speak well to me.” The Empress Elect persisted. “You can see what I mean, can’t you Mary?”
The skullery maid jumped at being called by name.
“Erm, yes your eminence. I can see all of the furnishings you’ve mentioned.” She answered innocently.
“And about how they’re all disturbingly occult.”
“I wouldn’t dare to say such things about the Empress’ forebears.” Mary said with hurried defensiveness. “It is my pleasure to be the skullery maid and keep the Imperial Skulls shining.”
“You would choose these for your own home?” Adirn asked, her eyebrows desperately attempting to convey all the imperial incredulity they could.
“I live here, your eminence. They are already a part of my home and I wish for nothing.” Mary told her, choosing her words deliberately to avoid any and all suspicion. Maids had been executed for less in the past.
“I… fine. Good. I am glad that you feel comfortable.” The Empress Elect sighed. Mary went back to her polishing with a new fervour and hoped not to be noticed again.
The dressmaker continued to make tweaks and tucks to Adirn’s dress without offering any more conversation, while she herself scanned the various intimidating furnishings of her dressing room and felt no easier about them. Her thoughts were finally interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Come in.” She said brightly, a force of habit that she supposed Empresses weren’t expected to have.
The door swung gently open and Keto Toxis, her Captain of the Guard, stepped through. He gave the Empress Elect a low bow.
“Your eminence. We are here to escort you, if you are ready for your grand coronation.”
“Erm, yes I suppose. Thank you. Are you finished, dressmaker?”
“I believe so, your eminence. You look as hauntingly beautiful as the hanging fields on a clear night.”
“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about! I don’t want to be ‘haunting’ in my beauty, and it’s weird to compare people to hanging fields. Especially as a compliment.” Adirn despaired.
The dressmaker looked quizzically towards Keto, who shrugged.
“It’s just a turn of phrase, your eminence.”
“It’s a weird turn of phrase.” Adirn insisted. “No-one from any other empire says things like that.”
“Our culture is indeed unique and glorious.” Keto agreed.
The Empress Elect shook her head but gave up on trying to convince either of them any further.
“Fine. Then let us be on our way, Captain Toxis.”
“Certainly, your eminence.” He replied, looking at her expectantly. “Er, forgive me, but are you going to… put your arms down?”
Adirn was puzzled for a second, and then realised she was still following the dressmaker’s eaerlier instruction.
“Oh, oh yes. I can put them down now, right?” She checked.
“You have been able to for at least ten minutes, your eminence, but please do so carefully. We wouldn’t want creases.” The dressmaker explained.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m exhausted!” Adirn complained as she allowed her arms to fall back to her sides. The lace wings of her gown folded softly as she did.
“I thought you would have known. Besides which it was clearly an impressive display of your divine prowess to be able to keep them aloft for so long. It is above a simple dressmaker to instruct you when to lower your arms, your eminence.”
“But not to instruct me when to lift them in the first place?”
“That is merely a part of my job, your eminence, and it is always a humble request. I would never dare to instruct you.”
“Ugh… whatever. Let us go, Captain Toxis.”
“Your wish is my command, your eminence.” He oozed.
“It was a command though.”
“Your commands are most certainly my command, your eminence.” Keto said, the flow of platitudes apparently unstoppable.
Adirn sighed as she started walking. If this was to be how life went for an Empress then she liked it even less than she’d anticipated.
With her honour guard, headed by Captain Toxis and tailed by a further four members of his Palace Watch, Empress Elect Adirn walked through the vaulted hallways and grand staircases of the Imperial Cataclysmic Palace.
"Captain? How many rulers have you served in your position?"
"You will be the fourth Empress I have guarded, your eminence. I have also served three Emperors."
"So seven then. Seven in what... thirty years?" She speculated. It was hard to keep track at the best of times, and she’d previously taken very little interest.
"Fifteen years, your eminence. I wasn't able to take captaincy so soon after coming of age." Captain Toxis clarified.
"There's a new ruler every two years? Doesn't that sound problematic to you?"
"It is natural that they didn't last, since they are not you. As is clear from your impending coronation, the divine right is yours."
"I am only being coronary because everyone else's excuses were heeded and mine were ignored. That doesn't have any particular ring of divinity to it."
Captain Toxis shrugged.
"Ours is not to understand the ways of the gods, your eminence."
"But it is apparently to speculate on their intentions when it comes to coronation."
"Sorry?"
"Oh, nothing. It was the divine will that you should miss what I said, I’m sure.” She snapped. They both kept walking in silence, Captain Toxis apparently unconcerned . “Anyway, we're meant to be talking about how every other ruler has lasted about two years, and that being a major downside to ascension."
"As I said, your eminence, they did not have th-"
"The divine right, yes, but in more tangible terms why did they die? It was assassination wasn't it."
"Not always. Some were executed by the enemy at the end of an unsuccessful war."
"And your palace guard are supposed to keep the ruler safe?"
"I don't like where you're going with this." Keto warned.
"I don't like where I’m going with this either."
"The conversation or the coronation?"
"Both! Obviously! Ruling the onyx empire is a poison chalice. Every time a new ruler comes in they deal with a military that's been decimated by the previous incumbent's pet war, a cabinet hollowed out by backstabbing and skulduggery, and a castle ravaged by the forces who just finished invading. It's a never-ending cycle of imperial replacement."
"Elegantly put, your eminence. I am a simple solider and know nothing of such complicated matters of state.”
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, you just don’t want to admit it." Adirn accused.
"If you say it, your imperial majesty, then so it must be. I will concern myself with keeping you safe from any who might seek to do you harm on this momentous day."
Adirn rolled her eyes.
“I fear the harm has already been done. My execution has already begun, and I think it will take around two years to complete.”
“The only way for an executioner to enter here would be by the gates of the Stone Garden, and there is a whole crowd of your people there. The open gates are as safe today as the closed gates are at any other time.”
“The gates are open?” Adirn asked with sudden excitement.
“Yes, your eminence. Gates must be open for people to pass through them.”
“And you would keep me safe no matter what happens today?”
“Yes, your eminence.”
“Interesting.” She said. A plan started to form.
For reasons best known to the architect, whose name was lost to history, the imperial palace was a maze of corridors, spiral staircases and sharp turns through narrow doorways. Decked out in the imposingly grim coronation gown, Adirn was wholly unable to move around them in her normal soft-footed and understated manner. Instead, every corner saw her chased by a flourished wave of dress material and underskirts; she had absolutely no choice but to sweep around every turn she came to thanks to the uniquely dramatic construction of her clothing. She swept through a hallway and into a dark stairwell. She swept around every step of the spiral stairs, probably dusting the windowsills with her train as she went. She even swept past the privies and the kitchens, which had been cruelly co-located in what must have been one of the architect's angrier times. By the time that Adirn, Captain Toxis, and their entourage of palace guards made it to the ground floor and the grand atrium, Adirn was sick to death of sweeping, which was a first for a day on which she hadn't even touched a broom.
Unfortunately, the same much-maligned sweeping of jet-black silk and velvet immediately garnered the attention of the awaiting throng of aristocrats and other nobles. Faces that were bloated with the spoils of tyranny, and pale with the makeup of general insecurity about their appearance coupled with prevailing cultural norms, turned to behold the sight of Empress Elect Adirn, first of her name. First except for all of the other Adirns who just so happened not to be picked as Empresses, that is.
There were hundreds of them staring up at her. Adirn was astounded at how there could possibly be so many noble houses, and how many members each of them contained, but there they were like a sea of inbreeding and soft jawlines. Through the centre of the crowd was a wide, empty walkway that led through the enormous main doors and into the Stone Garden. More of them would be waiting out there, Adirn knew.
"All hail the infernal majesty of her imperial eminence, Empress Elect Adirn Deepgrave!" Bellowed the imperial announcer, who had seemingly materialised next to her for the occasion. Adirn rubbed deliberately at the ear closest to the auditory assault, and resolved to make some changes about the quantity of shouting next to her head if she ended up in power.
Rapturous applause broke out through the atrium at the sight of their new empress, thundering from hands thick with jewelled rings and uncaring about her obvious aural discomfort. Robes and finery in the darkest shades of green, purple and black lined the central walkway through which Adirn was to pass, and family crests of bloodied limbs, venomous animals, and overcooked vegetables were proudly displayed in support of her reign. In any other kingdom it would be a wonderful show of loyalty, but it seemed that for the Onyx Empire the consequences of committing to a ruler were not particularly dire. After all, if they turned out not to like the ruler it would only be a couple of years until they got a new one. Every noble could wait for that long.
“Please, your eminence. We must proceed to the Stone Garden for the ceremony. There is a strict schedule for these important matters.” The announcer told Adirn, proving that he had a perfectly serviceable grasp of acceptable volumes of speech and had therefore deliberately chosen to deafen one of her ears.
“I wouldn’t like make you late whilst forcing me to become empress against my will.” Adirn sniped, sending out enough scowls for everybody to get one.
“The imperial wit will serve you well in court, your eminence. Now please…” The announcer persisted, indicating the way forwards with one hand.
“The channel through a vast crowd is clear enough, but thank you anyway.”
Up close, the cheering and shouting aristocracy were no more appealing. Many of them wore long cloaks lined with black feathers, or snakeskin doublets, or chains of skulls around their necks. The sheer number of nobles within the Onyx Empire was staggering, and their shared macabre fashion choices more so. It was no small wonder that the empire had a reputation for standing on the wrong side of every war throughout history. These things that had never bothered Adirn in her quiet life to date suddenly seemed relevant, and far more obvious.
A series of sycophantic platitudes bombarded her as she walked, still sweeping even when travelling in a straight line. Many of the crowd alleged that they wished her a long and prosperous reign, but they knew nothing of her or whether she was a competent ruler. After all, much of that information was mystery to Adirn herself. Others took the approach of celebrating with simple ‘hoorays’ and ‘huzzahs’, which just felt disingenuous. Nobody ever said ‘huzzah’ as a spontaneous reaction to good news. Just as her ire was about to focus squarely on the deceitful huzzah-utterers, however, her ears picked out another brand of cheers.
“Destruction to our foes under her iron boots!”
“Suffering to the outsiders by her poison chalice!”
“Long life and longer blades for Empress Adirn!”
“Are these really the people I lead?” She asked herself, her eyes running across an insignia that look suspiciously like a man being sacrificed for a particularly nice sandwich. “No wonder we’re always being invaded by the White Alliance.” Suddenly, the potentially-forced huzzahs seemed terribly benign.
Empress Elect Adirn kept her head up high and her gaze straight ahead, lest she unwittingly make eye contact with a chalice poisoner and inadvertently endorse their chants. A two-year reign as empress was already an unappealingly short prospect for her future, but spending the whole time dealing with calls to perform unspeakable acts of cruelty would be even worse. Her first decree as Empress, if she made it that far, would be to renounce any notions of invasion, poisoning or excessive blade-length. Except for scythes when put to the task of harvesting, of course; that was just efficient agricultural practice.
“You do not smile, Empress Elect. I see that you will rule with the bearing of a stately ambassador, rather than a smiling portrait. That is to be respected.” Keto observed.
“Something like that.”
“It will serve you well in the war room, when the next campaign is to be launched.”
If she hadn’t been under the war-thirsty gazes of several hundred nobles then Adirn would have immediately refuted the idea of any war in the immediate future. She didn’t know anything about the inter-empire politics of the continent, nor did she have firm understanding of why there had to be cyclical conflicts that never altered any borders. All she really knew was the contents of her own family’s library, having read it extensively while growing up as a minor noble. There was very little contemporary history in their collection, and it had never held her interest despite how much contemporary history had been happening outside the window all the time. Rulers had come and gone, wars had been declared and lost, and she’d never had to get involved. Her books about ancient history and natural philosophy were all she’d needed back then. Walking along the aisle of torture-thirsty nobility, however, some understanding of their diplomatic position would have served well. As it was, however, she elected to ignore Captain Toxis’ statement entirely, since her thoughts were better spent planning how to avoid the coronation.
Various bloodthirsty demands interspersed with insincere well-wishes continued to wash across the Empress Elect as she reached the doorway to the Stone Garden. Adirn had thought it sounded like a suspiciously placid name compared to what was normal among imperial estates, and couldn’t muster up the energy to be surprised when she saw what it really meant.
Opening out in front of her as she stepped into the bright, almost blinding, daylight was a sea of grey and black gravestones, made from obsidian, slate, granite, and any other dark-coloured looted natural resource from subjugated vassal nations. In shape they varied from the simple and understated rectangle to ornate and decadent sculptures, so intricate that they must have been started years before the death of the person in question. Adirn hoped not to get involved in that kind of forward planning.
Arranged in concentric circles, the gravestones spread out for more rings than Adirn could easily estimate, let alone count, and dominated a space larger than many of the villages she had seen on the way to the Imperial Palace. It was a garden made as a monument to death, and far more in line with her expectations for a feature of the Onyx Empire’s Imperial Palace. The circles were centred on a vast dais that rose above the graves via several staircases, and was topped with a bench-throne for the residing ruler to sit and enjoy the view. Ruling as an Empress Elect who kept a garden of gravestones in her palace for casual relaxation wasn’t the kind of image that Adirn had ever wanted to portray. As much as she herself didn’t enjoy the prospect, the worst part of all would be trying to justify or even explain it to her mother. It just wasn’t the sort of thing she’d been raised to do.
Extending radially from the dais, like the legs of child’s drawing of a spider, were broad flagstone paths. The path ahead of Empress Elect Adirn was flanked by members of the palace guard. They held their blackened halberds upright next to their bodies with blades forward and ornamental skulls facing the back, and a part of Adirn couldn’t help hoping that one would fall upon her before the ceremony could take place. As escape plans went it was rather on the extreme side, with no real prospects for the future, but a reliable fall-back position nonetheless if things got too dire. It was easily more appealing than the small assembly of ceremonially garbed figureheads awaiting her on the dais. What lay beyond them, on the other hand, was freedom. The open gates of the Stone Garden, leading into hive that was the City of Torment, would be a straight dash away from the dais. In lieu of a heroic and unexpected rescue by Captain Toxis, legging it through the gate was her best shot at avoiding the rule.
Empress Elect Adirn stepped with slow, even paces along the path. Glancing from side to side between them, so as to avoid spooking anyone with direct eye contact, she saw that the remaining paths to the dais were all densely pack with spectators. Unlike the nobles in the atrium, these crowds did not seem to dress exclusively in velvet of the most insidious colours. They were far more like the real, human people who lived outside of the Onyx Empire’s strangely macabre bubble of aristocracy. With barely an atrocity-laden banner in sight, and no obviously skeletal jewellery that she could make out from her distance, the crowds of non-nobility were the one thing she’d seen all day that didn’t set her teeth on edge. Although she certainly didn’t feel qualified to lead an empire on their behalf, she at least wouldn’t have to stop them encouraging her unleash devastation on the neighbouring kingdom’s postal workers or something.
Half-way to the dais, Adirn looked up again towards the elaborately dressed collection of clergy and imperial advisors. The details of their ceremonial dress were starting to become visible, and the Empress Elect quickly decided that she had preferred them as a distant blur. Beyond the usual bedecking of skulls and human bones, the robes of the grand priestess were embroidered with a golden gallows, in which was hanging a map of The White Alliance. Adirn pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes closed whilst still walking.
“Have you a headache, your eminence? I can send for the apothecaries to fetch you a tincture.” Captain Toxis offered.
“Knowing them it would be made from child’s teeth and peasant blood.”
“I am no medical man, your eminence, but I think that they use willow extract.”
“I’m fine.” Adirn sighed. “The source of the headache is spread among those sets of robes up there, not inside my head.”
‘So I am to be crowned by a woman whose religion is signified by trying to strangle an entire alliance of countries, an alliance which hadn’t existed for the first one thousand years of the religion’s formation. The lust for war really does run deep through the upper echelons of the empire.’ She thought to herself. Her paces slowed just a little more, to make sure that any treacherous or butter-fingered guard would have as much of an opportunity as possible to drop their weapon upon her. Spending the next two years arguing with the most powerful people in the Onyx Empire to eventually, inevitably, get dragged into another war and find herself beheaded was not the end she wanted. Better to fall on the path to the dais before she could be disgraced.
Faintly, through the general distant burble of shouting, the cheers of the crowds started to resolve into actual words. Adirn shuddered at what she might start hearing again.
“Long live the Empress Elect! And us too, hopefully.” She discerned. It seemed more reasonable than a lot of what she’d heard, if slightly mournful. There wasn’t a lot of hope for either of them, though. She wished that she could let them down gently.
“May the Empress not be a warmonger, and lay off on the torture a bit!”
That a perfectly respectable request, and least within her power. She didn’t want to torture anybody, nor did she have a desire to re-start hostilities with The White Alliance, especially not since they’d only stopped occupying the country a fortnight previously. That was, largely, why there had been an open position for her to fill. Unfortunately, she suspected that the rest of the imperial advisors would have different ideas.
“Ascend the dais and lead us to glorious victory!” Bellowed someone else, in an unfortunately ‘atrium-like’ display that spoiled the sense of futile optimism trying to form in Adirn’s head. Knowing that there was a downtrodden peasantry, whose wishes not to be slaughtered or tortured would inevitably be ignored, at least had a poetic beauty to it; if that wasn’t even a common consensus then the whole thing was ruined. It made her angry that even a fantasy of the people of the empire wishing to change couldn’t be allowed by the peculiar toxicity of their traditions. She cast her head around to look for where the treacherous bellow had originated, and saw that the crowd of velvet nobles was following her along the path, ready to watch the coronation for themselves. The cry must have come from one of them, she decided.
Another few steps brought her to the base of the steps. The assembled advisors and clergy around the grand priestess were in marginally less ostentatious robes, but also featured the hanging of a whole geographical region; something that apparently excited the crowd of other potential Imperial Rulers marching behind her. She’d never be able to argue with them all forever, and spending her reign struggling against the crusty advisors and bloodthirsty nobles just to die at the hands of a foreign general anyway held no appeal. With the rows of halberds behind her there was no longer a chance of being accidentally beheaded, so she would have to run instead. At least then she could either get away or be cut down, instead of enduring her own reign of terror. But the timing had to be right. Better to wait until she was up at the top so that there was less ground to cover. She placed a foot on the first step up to the dais.
“May she at least give the gallows a bit of a rest!” Cheered a voice from a path to her left.
“Empress Elect Adirn! The merciful we hope!” Cried another.
“I would give the gallows a rest, you know. A long rest. And I think, unfortunately, that might count as being tremendously merciful compared to what the serfs are used to.” Adirn muttered to herself. “No-one else will have that mercy on them.” Looking back at the nobles behind her, she saw a group of them marching proudly under a banner of two boots crashing into a farmer’s face. “I’d never swear fealty under a banner like that. At least my family’s crest is just a deep hole. If those are the other successors then maybe I really would have been the best chance the Onyx Empire had.” Being the best among puppets, however, was not something that Adirn considered to be a great reward. Better to take the chance running, so at least there’d be a small period of freedom before either the arrows hit her or she had to live as a fugitive. It was better than living as a patsy, voted in as a figurehead to protect the advisors from execution after their next atrocity against the rest of the world.
“Steer us away from the worst of the war crimes.” A young lady’s voice beseeched.
Adirn would have loved it if those kinds of requests went without saying. It really didn’t paint her predecessors in a glowing light that the people didn’t consider ‘no war crimes’ to be a viable option. The bar was just so low. Even as a puppet, the advisors would have to make some small, token efforts to listen, wouldn’t they? She took a second step, so that no-one would suspect her of stalling.
“Captain Toxis, would the other advisors listen to me if I were in power?” She asked, urgently. It was strictly hypothetical, she told herself. Once he’d confirmed that there would be no chance of lessening the suffering, she could make her dash with a clear conscience.
“Your eminence, they are advisors. The question is whether you choose to listen to them. Are you sure you understand what advice is supposed to be?”
“Of course I am! I was just… well, never mind what I was just doing. Can you tell me, swearing on your life, that as Empress I would actually be in charge of the Empire?” She paraphrased. Surely he wouldn’t make such a strong commitment. Her foot travelled at a barely visible crawl towards the next stair.
Keto looked at her quizzically, his professional visage faltering for a moment.
“You seemed to have a wisdom of sorts before, your eminence. Please don’t let this be the time that I need to explain what an Empress is.”
“Oh for goodness sake I know what the position of Empress is supposed to entail. The question I am trying to have answered, while I ascend these steps painfully slowly to buy us enough time to speak, is whether or not my position is simply one of a puppet. Do I have the real power?” She hissed, rapidly whispering while apparently deliberating intensely on whether or not to put her foot down. The crowd behind her was starting to pile up catastrophically; many velvet robes would soon tumble against gravestones worth more than their whole estates if the blockage wasn’t cleared.
“Yes, your eminence. Of course. And I am here with my guard to ensure that your advisors respect that.”
“Ugh.” She sighed. “Alright, good. Fine.” He’d been no help at all.
Adirn stepped onto the top of the dais at last. All eyes were turned onto her, from the hopeful faces of the peasantry to the leering, seedy vampirism of the advisors. Slimiest of all was the grand priestess, who held out her shiny, wrinkled hands in a gesture of faux reverence.
“Ah, the new Empress Elect. So glad you finally managed to complete what was apparently a difficult ascent.” She said. “Take your position on the throne, your eminence.”
“Certainly.” Adirn sighed. Up close she could see that the back of the throne was carved into a relief that celebrated the founder of the Onyx Empire; specifically, her triumphant military victory over the quiet, pacifist village that previously stood where the capitol had been built. The sack full of small birds she’d thrown into the river was also celebrated in a spare corner. Parts of her mind started to wonder what she would try to change before the advisors had her silenced.
"Well that’d have to go." She said, peering into the stony face of the founder mid-drowning. The impatient gaze of a grand priestess was tangibly present on her back, and Adirn took her seat before any tutting or wildlife genocide started. Running would need to wait until the Grand Priestess’ was distracting the crowd and had her back turned. Adirn pictured herself running through the press of peasants who, against all logic, held some hope that their new Empress would take mercy on them, and the hypothetical disappointment on their imagined faces haunted her. It made her worry that she was too sensitive.
"In the eyes of Almighty Virum, shadow of our lives, we gather to witness your ascension, Empress Elect Adirn. Under his gaze, so askance that he may watch a man's face while stabbing his back, we carry out what must be his will in honouring you as our Empress. May your arms never tire of strangling the weak!" The grand priestess bellowed with the overwrought grandeur of ceremony. There were perfunctory 'Aye's and 'May her arms never tire's from the assembled crowds, but their hearts weren't in it, Adirn could tell. After all, they were the exact ‘weak’ in question, and they probably didn’t much like being strangled. Given the choice, it was likely that they’d decline the strangling altogether. "Take the Bludgeon of Minds, that you may bend wills to your command."
From Adirn's left, a robed clergyman slithered into view, clutching a gold sceptre with suspiciously dark stains around the skull on its top. He held it out for the new Empress to take, impassive to the revulsion and fear that had crossed her face. An expectant silence hung over the crowd, and an impatient silence dripped from the grand priestess. The sceptre-proffering clergyman's silence was more disinterested in nature, but with a rising quantity of tiredness in his arms. Staring up at the bloodied, macabre bludgeon on offer, Adirn felt absolutely no desire to accept it. A lump of gold like that would only slow down her retreat.
"Take the sceptre, I said. Are you deaf, girl?" The priestess hissed. As a mode of speech, it suited her.
With a revolted whimper Adirn slowly reached out her hands and, making her reluctance well-known, grasped the shaft of the sceptre.
Immediately the clergyman let go, and the weight of gold brought Adirn's arms crashing down onto her lap, digging into the flesh of her legs and pinning her hands in place. There was a loud metallic thud as the sceptre’s base struck granite, and a louder glare from the grand priestess for following her instructions so poorly. Adirn faced forwards with static horror.
'I've definitely dented it. Probably cracked the throne too.' Adirn thought, with images of a conviction for crimes against the Empire running through her mind. ‘Might not even need to run away to avoid the crown now.’ She tried to pull her hands free but the weight of the sceptre was too great. They were pressed into her thighs, which were in turn held firmly onto the throne.
"Take the Imperial Shackles, that you may bind your foes to their folly and throw them into the River Crue." The grand priestess growled, unwilling to stray from her script despite the new Empress’ shameful performance with the Bludgeon of Minds.
Right on cue came the jangling of shackles from Adirn's right, feeling distinctly redundant in the face of the restraining performance of the sceptre. Spots of rust on the chain links gave unwanted evidence that other Empress and Emperors had taken those instructions to heart. The great iron bands hung in front her while the Bludgeon of Minds pressed down onto her flesh, crushing her muscle slowly.
"Take them!" The priestess commanded under her breath.
"I can't, my hands are stuck." The Empress Elect replied through teeth gritted with pain. This opportunity to appear incompetent could lead to an unforeseen third option in which the Grand Priestess refused to complete the ceremony, she thought. It would realistically just be a different route to execution, but any path away from the crown was a good one and it made up for running away being temporarily impossible.
"Don't be ridiculous, no they aren't." Snapped the priestess.
Adirn gave her arms a demonstrative tug, and hissed through her teeth against the considerable discomfort of her legs.
"You will stop being flippant about our traditions this instant and take the Imperial Shackles!"
Adirn gave another series of rapid tugs to reinforce her point.
"Ugh, fine. If the Empress wishes to be a child about this then I will not stoop to her level. Place the shackles on her lap."
After a short, unsure glance at the grand priestess, the clergyman tentatively rested the Imperial Shackles on top of the sceptre, further pinning Adirn’s hands into her lap. Any intentions she’d had about running from the dais in the near future were squarely forbidden by the safety bar she’d made for herself.
"The Onyx Empire was forged on the blood of those who could not see its superiority or respect its righteous dominion!" The grand priestess preached to her unwilling congregation. Adirn wondered how many of those blind, disrespectful and bloody souls came from within the borders, and from the looks of things the crowd knew the answer to that question.
"From their paltry, wretched, ugly and wholly unappealing forms we tore the essence of our greatness. Our founder, Elizabeth Kegyetlen, showed us the way, and it is the duty of our new Empress, her Eminence Empress Adirn Deepgrave, to continue that legacy and deliver the Onyx Empire to its destiny of total domination!"
Adirn didn't much fancy that duty. She suspected it was the pursuit of that destiny that got the Onyx Empire invaded so often, and why her predecessors couldn't make it more than a couple of years before the legacy parted their heads from their necks. The weight of their tradition was trying to bind her to that course, like the peasants were bound to the fate that their leader made for them. Thoughts like that were playing merry hell with what was left of Adirn’s intentions to run away. Self-preservation was being buried under an avalanche of imperial responsibility.
“Rise now, Empress Adirn. Look upon those who whose bones will march on the foe in your name.” Came the crescendo of the Grand Priestess’ surprisingly short speech. Perhaps it was a reflection of how frequently coronation ceremonies needed to happen, Adirn thought. She had been so sure just a few minutes ago that they’d be repeating this within a few days. Curse the guilt those peasants were throwing at her.
Adirn summoned all of her strength and attempted to leap to her feet, throwing off the physical and metaphorical shackles that bound her. Unfortunately, no amount of dramatic intention could overcome the tangible, pressing mass of the bludgeon and shackles, so all she achieved was a painful bounce in place. It did angle her legs slightly, however, so that the ornamental detritus crept closer to her knees. Without looking she knew that the assembled clergy and advisors upon the dais with her were staring with razor-blade frustration but, since none of them had deigned to help, Adirn didn't much care about their feelings. It took another dozen bounces to shimmy the sceptre far enough, but it finally toppled to the ground with another expensive-sounding crunch and further horrified gasps from the ecumenical community. The jangling of the Imperial Shackles drowned most of them out.
Severely bruised, distinctly out of breath and sweating heavily, Empress Adirn finally took to her feet again and stepped into the space awaiting her at the dais' front edge. Countless gravestones, and countless peasants who would become the next generation of permanent incumbents of the stone garden, faced her. There was enough space between the stones and the people to weave her way through, and the gateway leading into the town proper was invitingly open. Barely a minute of sprinting was all that stood between her and being able to renounce the crown, to free herself from the most dangerous governmental position in the world.
"From this crown of skulls, the eyes of Almighty Virum watch what you do, and witness how you will make our enemies suffer. Virum blesses you with dominion over the Empire." Boomed the priestess, her patience more worn-through than a sock in a flour mill. This was it; Adirn's last chance to go before desertion became treason.
Her legs didn't move. Although this was partially due to the heavy bruising and minor muscle damage of the sceptre, there was nonetheless a contribution from a sense of imperial duty. Any of those inbred cretins behind her would have taken the words of the priestess and run with them, approving any course of malign action. Seeing the desperate hope of the faces of the peasantry, even if it was just because the surname Deepgrave wasn't quite as outwardly vicious as most noble family names, twisted at Adirn's heart. She was their one chance of respite from a cycle of caricatured evil.
Gradually, the weight of a gold crown came to rest on Adirn’s head. There was scant padding inside, and she fancied that she could hear the rattling of jawbones around its rim, so she didn’t feel terribly comfortable.
“All hail Adirn!” Erupted the clergy, leading the cries for the assembled crowds to follow. Within moments the stone garden was a sea of chants and voices, some in unison and others obeying the rules of their own discordant rhythms. Adirn’s heart was pounding, and not just because of the exertion of standing up.
“It is customary for the new Empress to…” The grand priestess sighed. “… to make a speech.” She finished reluctantly. Captain Toxis leaned over to the wizened woman.
“I had to confirm that the Empress rules the Empire, earlier. And that advisors provide advice. Her silence may be a more effective tactic.” He muttered into her ear. The grand priestess shook her head despondently.
“It is the way things are done. She may have made a mockery of the Imperial Shackles, but this tradition must be respected.”
“I will speak.” Adirn confirmed, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt. There was no helping how she looked, but the ceremonial gown at least commanded some level of respect. It had also survived the effects of the Bludgeon of Minds impressively well. The Empress held her hands up for silence. Many of the palace guards wondered why their new ruler was apparently surrendering, but held their silence.
“My people. Many wars have been waged in the past and… erm… I’m not a great fan of those.” She shouted. Her voice couldn’t match up to the boom of the grand priestess, but it reached enough of the nobles for a confused murmuring to start. “All this talk of bones and blood and suffering is weird. It can all just stop.”
There were gasps from the clergy around her at the heresy she spoke.
“How about we give it a rest with the being obviously evil, and just try to avoid getting invaded by the White Alliance. For long enough to rebuild our Empire, or hopefully forever.”
Captain Toxis shrugged as the grand priestess’ jaw dropped.
“I warned you.” He said, stepping past her to stand at Adirn’s ear.
“If I am to lead you, then we’re getting rid of the hanging fields.” The Empress declared. A quiet booing started to burble up from the nobles behind, but it was overwhelmed by enthusiastic gossiping among the peasantry.
“Your eminence, I might recommend not starting a coup against yourself just yet.” Captain Toxis advised. “Traditionally it ends badly.”
“I’m not starting a coup! I’m stopping the utter nonsense that this Empire has been perpetuating. Have you ever actually looked at that bench and thought about what’s on it?”
Opposite the booing nobles, crowds of the peasantry watched in disbelief as their Empress, apparently making things up as she went along, promised them more than they had dared to hope for. She also seemed to have been distracted and just started to have casual conversation with one of her military advisors, which was certainly not the most usual behaviour for a ruler during their first speech. Still, it was better than being promised more war, more invasion, and less food like normal.
“It’s just a bench showing Empress Kegyetlen.” Keto observed.
“She’s drowning a bag of birds. Why did that need to be done in the first place, let alone celebrated. Especially to the extent that it’s carved into a throne.”
The head of the guard looked thoughtfully at the carving for a few moments, and then shrugged.
“That’s for the scholars, your eminence. I just hold a sword and command the guard. And the guard might need to be commanded to protect you if you keep speaking against our traditions.” He said, with a casual indifference.
“The people won’t rise up against me for not killing them.” Adirn said. She looked over her crowd and saw that they were still staring expectantly up at her.
“But the nobility…” Keto reminded.
“I need to go and start sorting things out. Return to your homes if you want, and if you want to tear down a gallows or two on the way then please go ahead. The guard are not to stop anyone from destroying gallows.” Adirn announced.
“What about drowning pools? And whipping stocks? And de-toothing parlours?” Asked Captain Toxis earnestly.
“Wh- they can be torn down too! Anything that’s used to torture people is fair game.”
Captain Toxis nodded and gave curt orders to a few of the other guards.
“Things will get better, I promise.” The Empress finished.
Silence hung over the stone garden while everyone tried to work out what had just happened. The clergy were talking urgently among themselves while the grand priestess had buried her face in both hands.
“Would you please take me to the council chamber?” Adirn asked the captain, ignorant of the discord she’d sown across the dais.
“You mean to call an assembly around The Skull Table?” He enquired.
“Of course the table’s a bloody skull. Yes, I suppose I do. Let’s see what I can fix before I get assassinated.”
Captain Toxis nodded , and conspicuously didn’t reassure her about any lack of impending murder.
“This way please, your eminence.”
Drawing in a deep breath through her nose and willing herself to become a competent ruler, Adirn turned her back on the open gates. It also involved turning her back on the crowd of peasantry, technically, but she felt that to be a practical necessity with much less metaphorical value and poignancy. One way or another she’d lose the title of Empress, be it by fleeing the Empire or by assassination at the hands of a traditionalist. At least this way she could try to make a difference, and there was no need to sprint through a graveyard in a long, winged, skull-laden dress.
“Yes, your eminence. Quite sure. Low down the list though you may be, you are eligible for election.” The Mistress of the Records, Katherine, said wearily with her chin leaning on both hands. Sitting at one of the lesser chiffoniers, her elbows were neatly sitting in the divots of an embossed deadly-nightshade petal on the table’s surface. There was a vast amount of ceremonial paperwork and bureaucracy to complete for the records of the coronation, and her place was in the library doing just that, but every few minutes the Empress Elect would drag her back up to feed that impostor complex she was nursing. None could blame her if the job of Empress sounded unappealing, especially after the bloody execution of her predecessor, but all of the other candidates had at least shown more imagination and variety in their excuses. Adirn’s efforts were just embarrassing.
The Empress Elect looked disappointedly at the floor, and saw the principal dressmaker lacing up the ceremonial calf-bracers. Pearl inlays in the shape of human femurs lined the outer edges of each one and cast prismatic reflections onto the man’s black uniform.
“But Baroness Heletrick is surely ahead of me and more suited to the task. The honour should go to her.”
“Baroness Heletrick, as well you have been told, has been forced to cede her eligibility. Her commitment to the Order of the Shining Knuckles is unbreakable.” Katherine said through a bored exhalation.
“Arms up please, your eminence.” The dressmaker requested.
“What about Duke Rossko?”Adirn tried, obligingly holding her arms out in a wide ‘T’.
“A sudden interest in reforming his own Duchy’s sect of the Cross Worshippers. Matters of the church are not to be interfered with by Imperial politics.”
“Maybe there’s still time for me to join the local convent.” Adirn muttered while deep lace wings were pinned onto the sleeves of her gown. Their black fabric was almost weightless but hung away from her outstretched arms with a graceful authority.
“Matters of the church are also not to be used in obvious attempts to circumvent the succession.” Katherine chided. “If you’d wanted to try that then you should have thought about it sooner.”
A frown crossed the face of the Empress Elect. She’d always been confused by the title, because the Empresses and Emperors of the Onyx Empire were only eligible for the position hereditarily, but now she was starting to understand. The position truly was elected, but only by those higher in the succession who could elect for the person below them to take it instead. Adirn finally recognised that she just hadn’t been quick enough to cast her vote.
“What about all these matters of state to which I’ll be expected to tend? I don’t know the first thing about negotiating a treaty, or declaring a war. And I certainly wouldn’t be choosing a village to send to the gallows for providing a poor harvest.”
“You have advisors and scholars to train you in those tasks and advise you on those decisions, your eminence.” Katherine told her. “Incapability has never stopped a ruler from taking the throne before, and it won’t stop you.”
“Then why not let the advisors just rule the Empire between themselves if they’re doing all the work anyway.” Adirn snapped.
“Because they are learned people, your eminence. Learned enough to avoid becoming the new Emperors or Empresses in name.”
“I don’t much like the way you’re speaking to me, Mistress of the Records. It sounds like you think me a fool.”
“A thousand apologies, your eminence. I won’t allow my tone to imply that there’s doubt about my opinions of you in future.” Katherine replied without looking at the Empress Elect.
Adirn sagged slightly through the chest, prompting a loud tut from the dressmaker who was trying to adjust the ceremonial gown’s laces to form a perfect grinning skull. Reflexively she straightened up again.
“Please try to hold still, your eminence. Lacing these baubles to run straight across your figure is a delicate process.”
“Heavens forbid that the pearl skulls on by bodice should be crooked.” Said the Empress Elect.
“Your divine radiance should be obvious in both your face and in your dress, your eminence.” Katherine said. “But since there are no further questions on your family tree, or succession rights, or those who do not stand between you and the throne, I shall return to my library. There is precious little time to complete my work now so I trust that another will be able to answer any further concerns you may have.”
“Yes… yes fine.” Adirn accepted, dismissively.
“Until later, my Empress.”
Adirn shuddered at her title. It was bad enough to have people using a euphemism of state rather than her actual name, but being the Empress of the Onyx Empire was a curse. She watched glumly as Katherine strode out, pulling the dressing room door closed behind herself with a click. With the Mistress of the Records went the final chance she could have had to avoid taking the throne legally, short of falling on a sword or being kidnapped on the way to the Stone Garden.
Gloomily, the Empress Elect looked about herself for any bright ray of hope, but saw nothing except the distinctly skeletal décor of the dressing room.
“Why does everything have to be so… so… macabre.” Adirn asked the dressmaker.
“Macabre, your eminence?” He humoured, his focus more on getting every pearly jawbone aligned with the brow below.
“I mean, just look at it in here for a start. The candle holder is a skeleton hand.” She said, quite truthfully. Sitting on the main dressing table, it rose up from a rose-shaped base and had fingers splayed in a wide wave. At the tip of every finger was a white wax candle, none of which were presently burning. Drips of wax ran between finger joints as if the skeleton had recently punched through a white-blooded chest and not found the time to wash its hands.
“It does the job. Just an odd curio from one of your divine predecessors I would imagine, your eminence.”
“I think it might be real bone though.”
“Waste not.” The dressmaker replied, giving a tug on Adirn’s waistband and expelling some of her authoritative breath.
“Ugh. Well wasting human bone doesn’t seem too tragic to me. But that was just an example. My dressing tables are all adorned with deadly plants and tableaux of people being poisoned. The door handle is in the shape of a dagger. All of my bedsheets are the darkest and deepest of blacks, the floorboards are joined with fangs, and I am fairly sure that no candelabra is supposed to have so many spikes on it.” She listed, eyes darting around and failing to fall on anything which wasn’t horrifying.
The dressmaker stopped his adjustments and looked at the Empress Elect’s face with curiosity. Slowly he allowed his gaze to move around the room and examine each of the elements she had mentioned in turn. Finally he looked back at Adirn, shrugged, and continued his work.
“Can’t say I’ve really noticed it before, your eminence. I think it’s all the height of taste and decadence, as befitting the choices of an Empress past.”
“Then such taste doesn’t speak well to me.” The Empress Elect persisted. “You can see what I mean, can’t you Mary?”
The skullery maid jumped at being called by name.
“Erm, yes your eminence. I can see all of the furnishings you’ve mentioned.” She answered innocently.
“And about how they’re all disturbingly occult.”
“I wouldn’t dare to say such things about the Empress’ forebears.” Mary said with hurried defensiveness. “It is my pleasure to be the skullery maid and keep the Imperial Skulls shining.”
“You would choose these for your own home?” Adirn asked, her eyebrows desperately attempting to convey all the imperial incredulity they could.
“I live here, your eminence. They are already a part of my home and I wish for nothing.” Mary told her, choosing her words deliberately to avoid any and all suspicion. Maids had been executed for less in the past.
“I… fine. Good. I am glad that you feel comfortable.” The Empress Elect sighed. Mary went back to her polishing with a new fervour and hoped not to be noticed again.
The dressmaker continued to make tweaks and tucks to Adirn’s dress without offering any more conversation, while she herself scanned the various intimidating furnishings of her dressing room and felt no easier about them. Her thoughts were finally interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Come in.” She said brightly, a force of habit that she supposed Empresses weren’t expected to have.
The door swung gently open and Keto Toxis, her Captain of the Guard, stepped through. He gave the Empress Elect a low bow.
“Your eminence. We are here to escort you, if you are ready for your grand coronation.”
“Erm, yes I suppose. Thank you. Are you finished, dressmaker?”
“I believe so, your eminence. You look as hauntingly beautiful as the hanging fields on a clear night.”
“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about! I don’t want to be ‘haunting’ in my beauty, and it’s weird to compare people to hanging fields. Especially as a compliment.” Adirn despaired.
The dressmaker looked quizzically towards Keto, who shrugged.
“It’s just a turn of phrase, your eminence.”
“It’s a weird turn of phrase.” Adirn insisted. “No-one from any other empire says things like that.”
“Our culture is indeed unique and glorious.” Keto agreed.
The Empress Elect shook her head but gave up on trying to convince either of them any further.
“Fine. Then let us be on our way, Captain Toxis.”
“Certainly, your eminence.” He replied, looking at her expectantly. “Er, forgive me, but are you going to… put your arms down?”
Adirn was puzzled for a second, and then realised she was still following the dressmaker’s eaerlier instruction.
“Oh, oh yes. I can put them down now, right?” She checked.
“You have been able to for at least ten minutes, your eminence, but please do so carefully. We wouldn’t want creases.” The dressmaker explained.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m exhausted!” Adirn complained as she allowed her arms to fall back to her sides. The lace wings of her gown folded softly as she did.
“I thought you would have known. Besides which it was clearly an impressive display of your divine prowess to be able to keep them aloft for so long. It is above a simple dressmaker to instruct you when to lower your arms, your eminence.”
“But not to instruct me when to lift them in the first place?”
“That is merely a part of my job, your eminence, and it is always a humble request. I would never dare to instruct you.”
“Ugh… whatever. Let us go, Captain Toxis.”
“Your wish is my command, your eminence.” He oozed.
“It was a command though.”
“Your commands are most certainly my command, your eminence.” Keto said, the flow of platitudes apparently unstoppable.
Adirn sighed as she started walking. If this was to be how life went for an Empress then she liked it even less than she’d anticipated.
With her honour guard, headed by Captain Toxis and tailed by a further four members of his Palace Watch, Empress Elect Adirn walked through the vaulted hallways and grand staircases of the Imperial Cataclysmic Palace.
"Captain? How many rulers have you served in your position?"
"You will be the fourth Empress I have guarded, your eminence. I have also served three Emperors."
"So seven then. Seven in what... thirty years?" She speculated. It was hard to keep track at the best of times, and she’d previously taken very little interest.
"Fifteen years, your eminence. I wasn't able to take captaincy so soon after coming of age." Captain Toxis clarified.
"There's a new ruler every two years? Doesn't that sound problematic to you?"
"It is natural that they didn't last, since they are not you. As is clear from your impending coronation, the divine right is yours."
"I am only being coronary because everyone else's excuses were heeded and mine were ignored. That doesn't have any particular ring of divinity to it."
Captain Toxis shrugged.
"Ours is not to understand the ways of the gods, your eminence."
"But it is apparently to speculate on their intentions when it comes to coronation."
"Sorry?"
"Oh, nothing. It was the divine will that you should miss what I said, I’m sure.” She snapped. They both kept walking in silence, Captain Toxis apparently unconcerned . “Anyway, we're meant to be talking about how every other ruler has lasted about two years, and that being a major downside to ascension."
"As I said, your eminence, they did not have th-"
"The divine right, yes, but in more tangible terms why did they die? It was assassination wasn't it."
"Not always. Some were executed by the enemy at the end of an unsuccessful war."
"And your palace guard are supposed to keep the ruler safe?"
"I don't like where you're going with this." Keto warned.
"I don't like where I’m going with this either."
"The conversation or the coronation?"
"Both! Obviously! Ruling the onyx empire is a poison chalice. Every time a new ruler comes in they deal with a military that's been decimated by the previous incumbent's pet war, a cabinet hollowed out by backstabbing and skulduggery, and a castle ravaged by the forces who just finished invading. It's a never-ending cycle of imperial replacement."
"Elegantly put, your eminence. I am a simple solider and know nothing of such complicated matters of state.”
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about, you just don’t want to admit it." Adirn accused.
"If you say it, your imperial majesty, then so it must be. I will concern myself with keeping you safe from any who might seek to do you harm on this momentous day."
Adirn rolled her eyes.
“I fear the harm has already been done. My execution has already begun, and I think it will take around two years to complete.”
“The only way for an executioner to enter here would be by the gates of the Stone Garden, and there is a whole crowd of your people there. The open gates are as safe today as the closed gates are at any other time.”
“The gates are open?” Adirn asked with sudden excitement.
“Yes, your eminence. Gates must be open for people to pass through them.”
“And you would keep me safe no matter what happens today?”
“Yes, your eminence.”
“Interesting.” She said. A plan started to form.
For reasons best known to the architect, whose name was lost to history, the imperial palace was a maze of corridors, spiral staircases and sharp turns through narrow doorways. Decked out in the imposingly grim coronation gown, Adirn was wholly unable to move around them in her normal soft-footed and understated manner. Instead, every corner saw her chased by a flourished wave of dress material and underskirts; she had absolutely no choice but to sweep around every turn she came to thanks to the uniquely dramatic construction of her clothing. She swept through a hallway and into a dark stairwell. She swept around every step of the spiral stairs, probably dusting the windowsills with her train as she went. She even swept past the privies and the kitchens, which had been cruelly co-located in what must have been one of the architect's angrier times. By the time that Adirn, Captain Toxis, and their entourage of palace guards made it to the ground floor and the grand atrium, Adirn was sick to death of sweeping, which was a first for a day on which she hadn't even touched a broom.
Unfortunately, the same much-maligned sweeping of jet-black silk and velvet immediately garnered the attention of the awaiting throng of aristocrats and other nobles. Faces that were bloated with the spoils of tyranny, and pale with the makeup of general insecurity about their appearance coupled with prevailing cultural norms, turned to behold the sight of Empress Elect Adirn, first of her name. First except for all of the other Adirns who just so happened not to be picked as Empresses, that is.
There were hundreds of them staring up at her. Adirn was astounded at how there could possibly be so many noble houses, and how many members each of them contained, but there they were like a sea of inbreeding and soft jawlines. Through the centre of the crowd was a wide, empty walkway that led through the enormous main doors and into the Stone Garden. More of them would be waiting out there, Adirn knew.
"All hail the infernal majesty of her imperial eminence, Empress Elect Adirn Deepgrave!" Bellowed the imperial announcer, who had seemingly materialised next to her for the occasion. Adirn rubbed deliberately at the ear closest to the auditory assault, and resolved to make some changes about the quantity of shouting next to her head if she ended up in power.
Rapturous applause broke out through the atrium at the sight of their new empress, thundering from hands thick with jewelled rings and uncaring about her obvious aural discomfort. Robes and finery in the darkest shades of green, purple and black lined the central walkway through which Adirn was to pass, and family crests of bloodied limbs, venomous animals, and overcooked vegetables were proudly displayed in support of her reign. In any other kingdom it would be a wonderful show of loyalty, but it seemed that for the Onyx Empire the consequences of committing to a ruler were not particularly dire. After all, if they turned out not to like the ruler it would only be a couple of years until they got a new one. Every noble could wait for that long.
“Please, your eminence. We must proceed to the Stone Garden for the ceremony. There is a strict schedule for these important matters.” The announcer told Adirn, proving that he had a perfectly serviceable grasp of acceptable volumes of speech and had therefore deliberately chosen to deafen one of her ears.
“I wouldn’t like make you late whilst forcing me to become empress against my will.” Adirn sniped, sending out enough scowls for everybody to get one.
“The imperial wit will serve you well in court, your eminence. Now please…” The announcer persisted, indicating the way forwards with one hand.
“The channel through a vast crowd is clear enough, but thank you anyway.”
Up close, the cheering and shouting aristocracy were no more appealing. Many of them wore long cloaks lined with black feathers, or snakeskin doublets, or chains of skulls around their necks. The sheer number of nobles within the Onyx Empire was staggering, and their shared macabre fashion choices more so. It was no small wonder that the empire had a reputation for standing on the wrong side of every war throughout history. These things that had never bothered Adirn in her quiet life to date suddenly seemed relevant, and far more obvious.
A series of sycophantic platitudes bombarded her as she walked, still sweeping even when travelling in a straight line. Many of the crowd alleged that they wished her a long and prosperous reign, but they knew nothing of her or whether she was a competent ruler. After all, much of that information was mystery to Adirn herself. Others took the approach of celebrating with simple ‘hoorays’ and ‘huzzahs’, which just felt disingenuous. Nobody ever said ‘huzzah’ as a spontaneous reaction to good news. Just as her ire was about to focus squarely on the deceitful huzzah-utterers, however, her ears picked out another brand of cheers.
“Destruction to our foes under her iron boots!”
“Suffering to the outsiders by her poison chalice!”
“Long life and longer blades for Empress Adirn!”
“Are these really the people I lead?” She asked herself, her eyes running across an insignia that look suspiciously like a man being sacrificed for a particularly nice sandwich. “No wonder we’re always being invaded by the White Alliance.” Suddenly, the potentially-forced huzzahs seemed terribly benign.
Empress Elect Adirn kept her head up high and her gaze straight ahead, lest she unwittingly make eye contact with a chalice poisoner and inadvertently endorse their chants. A two-year reign as empress was already an unappealingly short prospect for her future, but spending the whole time dealing with calls to perform unspeakable acts of cruelty would be even worse. Her first decree as Empress, if she made it that far, would be to renounce any notions of invasion, poisoning or excessive blade-length. Except for scythes when put to the task of harvesting, of course; that was just efficient agricultural practice.
“You do not smile, Empress Elect. I see that you will rule with the bearing of a stately ambassador, rather than a smiling portrait. That is to be respected.” Keto observed.
“Something like that.”
“It will serve you well in the war room, when the next campaign is to be launched.”
If she hadn’t been under the war-thirsty gazes of several hundred nobles then Adirn would have immediately refuted the idea of any war in the immediate future. She didn’t know anything about the inter-empire politics of the continent, nor did she have firm understanding of why there had to be cyclical conflicts that never altered any borders. All she really knew was the contents of her own family’s library, having read it extensively while growing up as a minor noble. There was very little contemporary history in their collection, and it had never held her interest despite how much contemporary history had been happening outside the window all the time. Rulers had come and gone, wars had been declared and lost, and she’d never had to get involved. Her books about ancient history and natural philosophy were all she’d needed back then. Walking along the aisle of torture-thirsty nobility, however, some understanding of their diplomatic position would have served well. As it was, however, she elected to ignore Captain Toxis’ statement entirely, since her thoughts were better spent planning how to avoid the coronation.
Various bloodthirsty demands interspersed with insincere well-wishes continued to wash across the Empress Elect as she reached the doorway to the Stone Garden. Adirn had thought it sounded like a suspiciously placid name compared to what was normal among imperial estates, and couldn’t muster up the energy to be surprised when she saw what it really meant.
Opening out in front of her as she stepped into the bright, almost blinding, daylight was a sea of grey and black gravestones, made from obsidian, slate, granite, and any other dark-coloured looted natural resource from subjugated vassal nations. In shape they varied from the simple and understated rectangle to ornate and decadent sculptures, so intricate that they must have been started years before the death of the person in question. Adirn hoped not to get involved in that kind of forward planning.
Arranged in concentric circles, the gravestones spread out for more rings than Adirn could easily estimate, let alone count, and dominated a space larger than many of the villages she had seen on the way to the Imperial Palace. It was a garden made as a monument to death, and far more in line with her expectations for a feature of the Onyx Empire’s Imperial Palace. The circles were centred on a vast dais that rose above the graves via several staircases, and was topped with a bench-throne for the residing ruler to sit and enjoy the view. Ruling as an Empress Elect who kept a garden of gravestones in her palace for casual relaxation wasn’t the kind of image that Adirn had ever wanted to portray. As much as she herself didn’t enjoy the prospect, the worst part of all would be trying to justify or even explain it to her mother. It just wasn’t the sort of thing she’d been raised to do.
Extending radially from the dais, like the legs of child’s drawing of a spider, were broad flagstone paths. The path ahead of Empress Elect Adirn was flanked by members of the palace guard. They held their blackened halberds upright next to their bodies with blades forward and ornamental skulls facing the back, and a part of Adirn couldn’t help hoping that one would fall upon her before the ceremony could take place. As escape plans went it was rather on the extreme side, with no real prospects for the future, but a reliable fall-back position nonetheless if things got too dire. It was easily more appealing than the small assembly of ceremonially garbed figureheads awaiting her on the dais. What lay beyond them, on the other hand, was freedom. The open gates of the Stone Garden, leading into hive that was the City of Torment, would be a straight dash away from the dais. In lieu of a heroic and unexpected rescue by Captain Toxis, legging it through the gate was her best shot at avoiding the rule.
Empress Elect Adirn stepped with slow, even paces along the path. Glancing from side to side between them, so as to avoid spooking anyone with direct eye contact, she saw that the remaining paths to the dais were all densely pack with spectators. Unlike the nobles in the atrium, these crowds did not seem to dress exclusively in velvet of the most insidious colours. They were far more like the real, human people who lived outside of the Onyx Empire’s strangely macabre bubble of aristocracy. With barely an atrocity-laden banner in sight, and no obviously skeletal jewellery that she could make out from her distance, the crowds of non-nobility were the one thing she’d seen all day that didn’t set her teeth on edge. Although she certainly didn’t feel qualified to lead an empire on their behalf, she at least wouldn’t have to stop them encouraging her unleash devastation on the neighbouring kingdom’s postal workers or something.
Half-way to the dais, Adirn looked up again towards the elaborately dressed collection of clergy and imperial advisors. The details of their ceremonial dress were starting to become visible, and the Empress Elect quickly decided that she had preferred them as a distant blur. Beyond the usual bedecking of skulls and human bones, the robes of the grand priestess were embroidered with a golden gallows, in which was hanging a map of The White Alliance. Adirn pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes closed whilst still walking.
“Have you a headache, your eminence? I can send for the apothecaries to fetch you a tincture.” Captain Toxis offered.
“Knowing them it would be made from child’s teeth and peasant blood.”
“I am no medical man, your eminence, but I think that they use willow extract.”
“I’m fine.” Adirn sighed. “The source of the headache is spread among those sets of robes up there, not inside my head.”
‘So I am to be crowned by a woman whose religion is signified by trying to strangle an entire alliance of countries, an alliance which hadn’t existed for the first one thousand years of the religion’s formation. The lust for war really does run deep through the upper echelons of the empire.’ She thought to herself. Her paces slowed just a little more, to make sure that any treacherous or butter-fingered guard would have as much of an opportunity as possible to drop their weapon upon her. Spending the next two years arguing with the most powerful people in the Onyx Empire to eventually, inevitably, get dragged into another war and find herself beheaded was not the end she wanted. Better to fall on the path to the dais before she could be disgraced.
Faintly, through the general distant burble of shouting, the cheers of the crowds started to resolve into actual words. Adirn shuddered at what she might start hearing again.
“Long live the Empress Elect! And us too, hopefully.” She discerned. It seemed more reasonable than a lot of what she’d heard, if slightly mournful. There wasn’t a lot of hope for either of them, though. She wished that she could let them down gently.
“May the Empress not be a warmonger, and lay off on the torture a bit!”
That a perfectly respectable request, and least within her power. She didn’t want to torture anybody, nor did she have a desire to re-start hostilities with The White Alliance, especially not since they’d only stopped occupying the country a fortnight previously. That was, largely, why there had been an open position for her to fill. Unfortunately, she suspected that the rest of the imperial advisors would have different ideas.
“Ascend the dais and lead us to glorious victory!” Bellowed someone else, in an unfortunately ‘atrium-like’ display that spoiled the sense of futile optimism trying to form in Adirn’s head. Knowing that there was a downtrodden peasantry, whose wishes not to be slaughtered or tortured would inevitably be ignored, at least had a poetic beauty to it; if that wasn’t even a common consensus then the whole thing was ruined. It made her angry that even a fantasy of the people of the empire wishing to change couldn’t be allowed by the peculiar toxicity of their traditions. She cast her head around to look for where the treacherous bellow had originated, and saw that the crowd of velvet nobles was following her along the path, ready to watch the coronation for themselves. The cry must have come from one of them, she decided.
Another few steps brought her to the base of the steps. The assembled advisors and clergy around the grand priestess were in marginally less ostentatious robes, but also featured the hanging of a whole geographical region; something that apparently excited the crowd of other potential Imperial Rulers marching behind her. She’d never be able to argue with them all forever, and spending her reign struggling against the crusty advisors and bloodthirsty nobles just to die at the hands of a foreign general anyway held no appeal. With the rows of halberds behind her there was no longer a chance of being accidentally beheaded, so she would have to run instead. At least then she could either get away or be cut down, instead of enduring her own reign of terror. But the timing had to be right. Better to wait until she was up at the top so that there was less ground to cover. She placed a foot on the first step up to the dais.
“May she at least give the gallows a bit of a rest!” Cheered a voice from a path to her left.
“Empress Elect Adirn! The merciful we hope!” Cried another.
“I would give the gallows a rest, you know. A long rest. And I think, unfortunately, that might count as being tremendously merciful compared to what the serfs are used to.” Adirn muttered to herself. “No-one else will have that mercy on them.” Looking back at the nobles behind her, she saw a group of them marching proudly under a banner of two boots crashing into a farmer’s face. “I’d never swear fealty under a banner like that. At least my family’s crest is just a deep hole. If those are the other successors then maybe I really would have been the best chance the Onyx Empire had.” Being the best among puppets, however, was not something that Adirn considered to be a great reward. Better to take the chance running, so at least there’d be a small period of freedom before either the arrows hit her or she had to live as a fugitive. It was better than living as a patsy, voted in as a figurehead to protect the advisors from execution after their next atrocity against the rest of the world.
“Steer us away from the worst of the war crimes.” A young lady’s voice beseeched.
Adirn would have loved it if those kinds of requests went without saying. It really didn’t paint her predecessors in a glowing light that the people didn’t consider ‘no war crimes’ to be a viable option. The bar was just so low. Even as a puppet, the advisors would have to make some small, token efforts to listen, wouldn’t they? She took a second step, so that no-one would suspect her of stalling.
“Captain Toxis, would the other advisors listen to me if I were in power?” She asked, urgently. It was strictly hypothetical, she told herself. Once he’d confirmed that there would be no chance of lessening the suffering, she could make her dash with a clear conscience.
“Your eminence, they are advisors. The question is whether you choose to listen to them. Are you sure you understand what advice is supposed to be?”
“Of course I am! I was just… well, never mind what I was just doing. Can you tell me, swearing on your life, that as Empress I would actually be in charge of the Empire?” She paraphrased. Surely he wouldn’t make such a strong commitment. Her foot travelled at a barely visible crawl towards the next stair.
Keto looked at her quizzically, his professional visage faltering for a moment.
“You seemed to have a wisdom of sorts before, your eminence. Please don’t let this be the time that I need to explain what an Empress is.”
“Oh for goodness sake I know what the position of Empress is supposed to entail. The question I am trying to have answered, while I ascend these steps painfully slowly to buy us enough time to speak, is whether or not my position is simply one of a puppet. Do I have the real power?” She hissed, rapidly whispering while apparently deliberating intensely on whether or not to put her foot down. The crowd behind her was starting to pile up catastrophically; many velvet robes would soon tumble against gravestones worth more than their whole estates if the blockage wasn’t cleared.
“Yes, your eminence. Of course. And I am here with my guard to ensure that your advisors respect that.”
“Ugh.” She sighed. “Alright, good. Fine.” He’d been no help at all.
Adirn stepped onto the top of the dais at last. All eyes were turned onto her, from the hopeful faces of the peasantry to the leering, seedy vampirism of the advisors. Slimiest of all was the grand priestess, who held out her shiny, wrinkled hands in a gesture of faux reverence.
“Ah, the new Empress Elect. So glad you finally managed to complete what was apparently a difficult ascent.” She said. “Take your position on the throne, your eminence.”
“Certainly.” Adirn sighed. Up close she could see that the back of the throne was carved into a relief that celebrated the founder of the Onyx Empire; specifically, her triumphant military victory over the quiet, pacifist village that previously stood where the capitol had been built. The sack full of small birds she’d thrown into the river was also celebrated in a spare corner. Parts of her mind started to wonder what she would try to change before the advisors had her silenced.
"Well that’d have to go." She said, peering into the stony face of the founder mid-drowning. The impatient gaze of a grand priestess was tangibly present on her back, and Adirn took her seat before any tutting or wildlife genocide started. Running would need to wait until the Grand Priestess’ was distracting the crowd and had her back turned. Adirn pictured herself running through the press of peasants who, against all logic, held some hope that their new Empress would take mercy on them, and the hypothetical disappointment on their imagined faces haunted her. It made her worry that she was too sensitive.
"In the eyes of Almighty Virum, shadow of our lives, we gather to witness your ascension, Empress Elect Adirn. Under his gaze, so askance that he may watch a man's face while stabbing his back, we carry out what must be his will in honouring you as our Empress. May your arms never tire of strangling the weak!" The grand priestess bellowed with the overwrought grandeur of ceremony. There were perfunctory 'Aye's and 'May her arms never tire's from the assembled crowds, but their hearts weren't in it, Adirn could tell. After all, they were the exact ‘weak’ in question, and they probably didn’t much like being strangled. Given the choice, it was likely that they’d decline the strangling altogether. "Take the Bludgeon of Minds, that you may bend wills to your command."
From Adirn's left, a robed clergyman slithered into view, clutching a gold sceptre with suspiciously dark stains around the skull on its top. He held it out for the new Empress to take, impassive to the revulsion and fear that had crossed her face. An expectant silence hung over the crowd, and an impatient silence dripped from the grand priestess. The sceptre-proffering clergyman's silence was more disinterested in nature, but with a rising quantity of tiredness in his arms. Staring up at the bloodied, macabre bludgeon on offer, Adirn felt absolutely no desire to accept it. A lump of gold like that would only slow down her retreat.
"Take the sceptre, I said. Are you deaf, girl?" The priestess hissed. As a mode of speech, it suited her.
With a revolted whimper Adirn slowly reached out her hands and, making her reluctance well-known, grasped the shaft of the sceptre.
Immediately the clergyman let go, and the weight of gold brought Adirn's arms crashing down onto her lap, digging into the flesh of her legs and pinning her hands in place. There was a loud metallic thud as the sceptre’s base struck granite, and a louder glare from the grand priestess for following her instructions so poorly. Adirn faced forwards with static horror.
'I've definitely dented it. Probably cracked the throne too.' Adirn thought, with images of a conviction for crimes against the Empire running through her mind. ‘Might not even need to run away to avoid the crown now.’ She tried to pull her hands free but the weight of the sceptre was too great. They were pressed into her thighs, which were in turn held firmly onto the throne.
"Take the Imperial Shackles, that you may bind your foes to their folly and throw them into the River Crue." The grand priestess growled, unwilling to stray from her script despite the new Empress’ shameful performance with the Bludgeon of Minds.
Right on cue came the jangling of shackles from Adirn's right, feeling distinctly redundant in the face of the restraining performance of the sceptre. Spots of rust on the chain links gave unwanted evidence that other Empress and Emperors had taken those instructions to heart. The great iron bands hung in front her while the Bludgeon of Minds pressed down onto her flesh, crushing her muscle slowly.
"Take them!" The priestess commanded under her breath.
"I can't, my hands are stuck." The Empress Elect replied through teeth gritted with pain. This opportunity to appear incompetent could lead to an unforeseen third option in which the Grand Priestess refused to complete the ceremony, she thought. It would realistically just be a different route to execution, but any path away from the crown was a good one and it made up for running away being temporarily impossible.
"Don't be ridiculous, no they aren't." Snapped the priestess.
Adirn gave her arms a demonstrative tug, and hissed through her teeth against the considerable discomfort of her legs.
"You will stop being flippant about our traditions this instant and take the Imperial Shackles!"
Adirn gave another series of rapid tugs to reinforce her point.
"Ugh, fine. If the Empress wishes to be a child about this then I will not stoop to her level. Place the shackles on her lap."
After a short, unsure glance at the grand priestess, the clergyman tentatively rested the Imperial Shackles on top of the sceptre, further pinning Adirn’s hands into her lap. Any intentions she’d had about running from the dais in the near future were squarely forbidden by the safety bar she’d made for herself.
"The Onyx Empire was forged on the blood of those who could not see its superiority or respect its righteous dominion!" The grand priestess preached to her unwilling congregation. Adirn wondered how many of those blind, disrespectful and bloody souls came from within the borders, and from the looks of things the crowd knew the answer to that question.
"From their paltry, wretched, ugly and wholly unappealing forms we tore the essence of our greatness. Our founder, Elizabeth Kegyetlen, showed us the way, and it is the duty of our new Empress, her Eminence Empress Adirn Deepgrave, to continue that legacy and deliver the Onyx Empire to its destiny of total domination!"
Adirn didn't much fancy that duty. She suspected it was the pursuit of that destiny that got the Onyx Empire invaded so often, and why her predecessors couldn't make it more than a couple of years before the legacy parted their heads from their necks. The weight of their tradition was trying to bind her to that course, like the peasants were bound to the fate that their leader made for them. Thoughts like that were playing merry hell with what was left of Adirn’s intentions to run away. Self-preservation was being buried under an avalanche of imperial responsibility.
“Rise now, Empress Adirn. Look upon those who whose bones will march on the foe in your name.” Came the crescendo of the Grand Priestess’ surprisingly short speech. Perhaps it was a reflection of how frequently coronation ceremonies needed to happen, Adirn thought. She had been so sure just a few minutes ago that they’d be repeating this within a few days. Curse the guilt those peasants were throwing at her.
Adirn summoned all of her strength and attempted to leap to her feet, throwing off the physical and metaphorical shackles that bound her. Unfortunately, no amount of dramatic intention could overcome the tangible, pressing mass of the bludgeon and shackles, so all she achieved was a painful bounce in place. It did angle her legs slightly, however, so that the ornamental detritus crept closer to her knees. Without looking she knew that the assembled clergy and advisors upon the dais with her were staring with razor-blade frustration but, since none of them had deigned to help, Adirn didn't much care about their feelings. It took another dozen bounces to shimmy the sceptre far enough, but it finally toppled to the ground with another expensive-sounding crunch and further horrified gasps from the ecumenical community. The jangling of the Imperial Shackles drowned most of them out.
Severely bruised, distinctly out of breath and sweating heavily, Empress Adirn finally took to her feet again and stepped into the space awaiting her at the dais' front edge. Countless gravestones, and countless peasants who would become the next generation of permanent incumbents of the stone garden, faced her. There was enough space between the stones and the people to weave her way through, and the gateway leading into the town proper was invitingly open. Barely a minute of sprinting was all that stood between her and being able to renounce the crown, to free herself from the most dangerous governmental position in the world.
"From this crown of skulls, the eyes of Almighty Virum watch what you do, and witness how you will make our enemies suffer. Virum blesses you with dominion over the Empire." Boomed the priestess, her patience more worn-through than a sock in a flour mill. This was it; Adirn's last chance to go before desertion became treason.
Her legs didn't move. Although this was partially due to the heavy bruising and minor muscle damage of the sceptre, there was nonetheless a contribution from a sense of imperial duty. Any of those inbred cretins behind her would have taken the words of the priestess and run with them, approving any course of malign action. Seeing the desperate hope of the faces of the peasantry, even if it was just because the surname Deepgrave wasn't quite as outwardly vicious as most noble family names, twisted at Adirn's heart. She was their one chance of respite from a cycle of caricatured evil.
Gradually, the weight of a gold crown came to rest on Adirn’s head. There was scant padding inside, and she fancied that she could hear the rattling of jawbones around its rim, so she didn’t feel terribly comfortable.
“All hail Adirn!” Erupted the clergy, leading the cries for the assembled crowds to follow. Within moments the stone garden was a sea of chants and voices, some in unison and others obeying the rules of their own discordant rhythms. Adirn’s heart was pounding, and not just because of the exertion of standing up.
“It is customary for the new Empress to…” The grand priestess sighed. “… to make a speech.” She finished reluctantly. Captain Toxis leaned over to the wizened woman.
“I had to confirm that the Empress rules the Empire, earlier. And that advisors provide advice. Her silence may be a more effective tactic.” He muttered into her ear. The grand priestess shook her head despondently.
“It is the way things are done. She may have made a mockery of the Imperial Shackles, but this tradition must be respected.”
“I will speak.” Adirn confirmed, hoping that she sounded more confident than she felt. There was no helping how she looked, but the ceremonial gown at least commanded some level of respect. It had also survived the effects of the Bludgeon of Minds impressively well. The Empress held her hands up for silence. Many of the palace guards wondered why their new ruler was apparently surrendering, but held their silence.
“My people. Many wars have been waged in the past and… erm… I’m not a great fan of those.” She shouted. Her voice couldn’t match up to the boom of the grand priestess, but it reached enough of the nobles for a confused murmuring to start. “All this talk of bones and blood and suffering is weird. It can all just stop.”
There were gasps from the clergy around her at the heresy she spoke.
“How about we give it a rest with the being obviously evil, and just try to avoid getting invaded by the White Alliance. For long enough to rebuild our Empire, or hopefully forever.”
Captain Toxis shrugged as the grand priestess’ jaw dropped.
“I warned you.” He said, stepping past her to stand at Adirn’s ear.
“If I am to lead you, then we’re getting rid of the hanging fields.” The Empress declared. A quiet booing started to burble up from the nobles behind, but it was overwhelmed by enthusiastic gossiping among the peasantry.
“Your eminence, I might recommend not starting a coup against yourself just yet.” Captain Toxis advised. “Traditionally it ends badly.”
“I’m not starting a coup! I’m stopping the utter nonsense that this Empire has been perpetuating. Have you ever actually looked at that bench and thought about what’s on it?”
Opposite the booing nobles, crowds of the peasantry watched in disbelief as their Empress, apparently making things up as she went along, promised them more than they had dared to hope for. She also seemed to have been distracted and just started to have casual conversation with one of her military advisors, which was certainly not the most usual behaviour for a ruler during their first speech. Still, it was better than being promised more war, more invasion, and less food like normal.
“It’s just a bench showing Empress Kegyetlen.” Keto observed.
“She’s drowning a bag of birds. Why did that need to be done in the first place, let alone celebrated. Especially to the extent that it’s carved into a throne.”
The head of the guard looked thoughtfully at the carving for a few moments, and then shrugged.
“That’s for the scholars, your eminence. I just hold a sword and command the guard. And the guard might need to be commanded to protect you if you keep speaking against our traditions.” He said, with a casual indifference.
“The people won’t rise up against me for not killing them.” Adirn said. She looked over her crowd and saw that they were still staring expectantly up at her.
“But the nobility…” Keto reminded.
“I need to go and start sorting things out. Return to your homes if you want, and if you want to tear down a gallows or two on the way then please go ahead. The guard are not to stop anyone from destroying gallows.” Adirn announced.
“What about drowning pools? And whipping stocks? And de-toothing parlours?” Asked Captain Toxis earnestly.
“Wh- they can be torn down too! Anything that’s used to torture people is fair game.”
Captain Toxis nodded and gave curt orders to a few of the other guards.
“Things will get better, I promise.” The Empress finished.
Silence hung over the stone garden while everyone tried to work out what had just happened. The clergy were talking urgently among themselves while the grand priestess had buried her face in both hands.
“Would you please take me to the council chamber?” Adirn asked the captain, ignorant of the discord she’d sown across the dais.
“You mean to call an assembly around The Skull Table?” He enquired.
“Of course the table’s a bloody skull. Yes, I suppose I do. Let’s see what I can fix before I get assassinated.”
Captain Toxis nodded , and conspicuously didn’t reassure her about any lack of impending murder.
“This way please, your eminence.”
Drawing in a deep breath through her nose and willing herself to become a competent ruler, Adirn turned her back on the open gates. It also involved turning her back on the crowd of peasantry, technically, but she felt that to be a practical necessity with much less metaphorical value and poignancy. One way or another she’d lose the title of Empress, be it by fleeing the Empire or by assassination at the hands of a traditionalist. At least this way she could try to make a difference, and there was no need to sprint through a graveyard in a long, winged, skull-laden dress.