Reunification-4 (Patreon)

Had my week gone well, this would have been part of the last chapter. Once again sorry for the delay on posting.

Beta reader is alseep so I'll sort that out tomorrow.

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From this day forth, as this crown lies upon your head, you are bound by oath to defend all those freed from the yoke of distant kings. First, hold to the duties of majesty. Second, keep to the laws of sovereigns. And last, uphold honour of kings past. Heavy is the Crown of Majesty yet stand tall and with head held high, Genn Greymane, son of Archibald Greymane, and you shall carry the great legacy of House Greymane into a new age.

Nearly three decades had passed since the day the crown Genn wore had been placed upon his head, and even now the weight was unfamiliar. How long had it been since he wore it? The day he announced the birth of his daughter?

Father had worn it always, head held high and never once allowing his will to be questioned once a decision had been made. Even as the robes he wore when Genn was but a child had given way to well-formed suits, practical cuffs, and restrained finery, the onyx-encrusted crown had remained a permanent fixture upon his head.

Unlike Father, he had disdained the crown, rejected it as unnecessary finery that cleaved to the traditions imposed upon them by the other kingdoms. And now, in the same hall he had first born its weight upon his head, came the last day he would wear the crown.

For in mere moments, it would no longer be his.

"King Genn Lloyd Greymane." Archbishop Rowan spoke, and at last Genn opened his eyes from his contemplation. "On this shadowed morn you ask to lay down the crown, to surrender the burdens of a sovereign."

Genn inclined his head to the newly appointed bishop. "I do." No matter the pang of regret he felt, the sting to his pride that this was the end of his reign, it was overshadowed by so much else.

A sovereign might impose his laws upon the land, but forever that must be second to the duties of majesty. In that, he had failed and his son had succeeded. Where he had only seen battle, a vain attempt to stop the rebellion in one last charge or die in the attempt, thus allowing them their victory and sparing Gilneas from the flames, Liam had outmanoeuvred them all.

His pride in himself might sting, he might regret that his legacy would stand in stark contrast to Father's greatness, but his heart swelled with a father's pride at his son's brilliance.

"You would lay a great burden upon another." Speaker Celestine, standing beside Archbishop Rowan and sharing in his role, spoke firmly. "What reason do you have to abandon the duties laid upon the line of Aderic Wolfheart?"

Meeting her steely and judging eyes with his own, Genn did not flinch. "I would abdicate in favour of my son, Liam Daryn Greymane, such that he might rule in my stead." He spoke such that his voice filled the grand hall of the cathedral. "For he is more suited, more capable, than I to the duties of majesty."

First, hold to the duties of majesty.

A task that he had perhaps never truly understood. Not as Father had, not as Liam had shown that he did. To know the people, to know their needs and pains, and to limit them as much as he was able...

"Then so be it." Archbishop Rowan nodded and raised his hands. "Relinquish the crown and be king no more, Genn Greymane."

Lifting the crown from his head he stood tall. He would not be ashamed of what he had done; his wall had protected Gilneas from the Scourge, he had brought the witches out of the shadows and tied them to the kingdom. Under his rule, Gilneas had weathered two great wars and retained its strength where others had fallen low – his rule was not without flaw, but it was not without greatness also.

At last, the crown rested in the archbishop's hands, and Genn took a step back. "Archbishop," he said, voice hard as he bowed, "Speaker; I ask my leave of you.

"You may depart, Lord Greymane." Archbishop Rowan returned, and without another word, he retreated from the dais.

Mia and Tess joined him as he stepped into the aisle and began walking through the stark divide their kingdom still bore. On one side sat the many lords of the rebellion, from the highest to the lowest, even including the tired and shadowed face of Lord Silverlaine. Even though Darius Crowley had been stripped of rank, his lands reclaimed until he was a baron in all but name, he still headed their faction. The little witch at his side, the prophet, no small part of that.

"When's Liam getting here?!" Tess whispered loudly as only a child could as they approached their seat, far in the back of the cathedral.

Mia hushed her gently. "In but a moment, when dawn breaks."

It was by choice that he would remain far from the front, from the fore of the event to come. He would not steal his son's moment from him – that he would be witness to it, as Father was not to his, was something he would treasure, no matter what it meant.

Finally reaching their seat, Genn was surrounded by knights, mages, priests, inventors, and witches rather than the lords and ladies of the realm. Where the rebels held up a full half of the rows, those loyalists that rallied behind hum under the faithful Lord Hewell's command scarcely took up a third; even some who had fought for him had turned to the rebel's cause, seeking power of their own.

He could not command, but should Liam grant him the chance, he would counsel against this House of Lords and House of Commons he had heard so many rumours of. A kingdom could not be ruled by a bickering mob.

With great reverence, Archbishop Adam laid the Crown of Majesty upon the glittering throne at the cathedral's head. "Though the king is not dead, the crown lies unworn. As Aderic I proclaimed: There must always be a king to hold back the tyrants of foreign lands!" His voice resonated throughout the hall and high above a single great bell began to toll. Dawn had arrived, and great shining light poured through the stained glass windows and down the aisle as the cathedral caught the first glimpse of the sun. "Prince Liam Daryn Greymane! Come forth and take up the mantle of kings!"

Light pulled at the great doors of the cathedral, infusing them with a shining radiance as they opened to reveal Liam. The ceremonial raiment he wore, resplendent with all the wealth of Gilneas, glittered and gleamed in the light as it trailed behind his footsteps down the aisle. In his hands was the ancient sceptre of Aderic I, the grand black diamond at its tip drinking in the Light and turning it into its own bleak radiance; the darkness of night turned to the dawn of day.

Or so it was often said by those who thought on such things.

Beside him, Lorna Crowley, his queen-to-be, followed but a single step back. Her dress was subdued yet refined, accenting the shining figure Liam presented, and swirled around her elegantly. On his other side, the fox that escorted him dazzled them all with its swishing tails adorned with ribbons that seemed to fade in and out of existence from one moment to the next.

Their entourage that followed after were of no little importance themselves; of the pair who carried Lorna Crowley's train, the first was the young Duchess Walden, while the other was Speaker Celestine's elder daughter. Those attending to Liam's were, as was traditional, primarily drawn from the church itself, with four neophytes carrying the tail of the robe alongside Duke Candren's youngest son and the nephew of Lord Hewell.

Seeing the face of one of the children Adam had once presented to Genn as a great talent, a boy who would one day rise to become a bishop himself, Genn felt a pang of guilt. His rash actions had cost more than he cared to admit.

Even to himself.

It was easy to divert his attention, however. Behind the guardians of the royal couple, his own guard and a few gallant knights of Gilneas, came the foreign contingent. Archmage Arugal walking beside the subdued Princess Menethil, with the stiff paladin Magroth and the excitable gnome Tindersnap close behind.

That the rebellion was so over-represented amongst the dignitaries witnessing this event was... unfortunate. Yet, Genn was forced to admit it was inevitable.

"I have come as I was asked, Archbishop." Liam said, approaching the archbishop and speaker to present the sceptre to them. "I shall take up the duty all Greymanes are beholden to. Gilneas shall not go without its king."

Archbishop Rowan nodded, holding the sceptre before him and examining the veins of gold threaded through the old wood of its shaft. "Once, long ago, the kings of Gilneas rose with the acclaim of their people." He spoke slowly, thoughtfully; there was no single speech nor ceremony, for each king and each archbishop a new oath, a new law. "Their purpose was to overthrow the tyrant kings who ruled from afar, who knew not the land nor its peoples."

"Who would drive us into the shadows, our aid forgotten and our culture chained." Speaker Celestine added. "You come here with the blessings of ancients – speak, oh prince, will you honour the pact?"

"I shall."

Lowering the sceptre, Archbishop Rowan looked down at Liam. "Will you defend the Kingdom of Gilneas, its people, and all its laws with all your being?"

"I shall."

Nodding, Archbishop Rowan passed the sceptre to Speaker Celestine so that he could lift the crown from the throne. Looking upon her role in this, Genn could not help but see she held the sceptre with even greater reverence than the archbishop had – the ancient and worn black oak of the rod holding her gaze.

"Come then, Prince, claim your throne and speak your oath so that you might be king." Archbishop Rowan declared, stepping aside to allow him to pass.

With his escorts alone beside him, Liam ascended to the pinnacle of the dais and sat upon the throne, the very picture of a young king. The sight was... magnificent, and beside him Genn could hear Mia wiping tears from her eyes.

Their boy had grown, grown so tall and so well. A boy no longer, and now a man – not a prince, but a king.

"I grant my oath to you, lords and ladies of Gilneas, priests of the Dawn and witches of Amber, that I shall guide Gilneas into the future with open eyes." Liam spoke with clear determination. "We are a nation of progress, of new and old ideas intermingled, unbound by those that would wrap us in chains of tradition; we shall neither forget nor ignore the past, but what was done shall not deny us to choose a new road, one yet untraveled." He gestured to Speaker Celestine. "Once, the witches of our lands were outcast, driven to near extinction, yet now they roam amongst us. Their power gifted to our people to uplift them from famine and starvation. Had we cleaved to the dogma of Arathor our people would lie dead and broken, as only the Arcane magic of the elves and the priestly ways of the Light were permitted."

Lowering his hand he looked out across the hall, lingering just long enough that all felt as though he had met their gaze. Just as he had been taught. "Ever in our ways of governance must we take up new ideas. History has proven the folly of a single man upon which all responsibility, all command, must fall. I shall be king, but I shall not rule alone or without consent – to our future majesty, to my sovereign rule, to honour our past. These are the oaths I make to you."

Speaker Celestine raised Aderic's sceptre to his shoulder and Archbishop Rowan lowered the crown onto his head.

"From this day forth, as this crown lies upon your head, you are bound by oath..."

-oOoOo-

With the coronation over, the swearing of oaths continued well into the evening. Some had taken their leave quickly, such as Lord Geoffrey Tulvan, but most lingered; though Mia had retired with Tess hours ago, Genn himself was amongst them. He could remember well the overbearing subservience, the kisses upon the sceptre, the touching of his raiment, the pressing of foreheads to his hand...

He would not detract from his son's day by standing close, presenting an alternative to his rule, but nor would he leave his son to weather the onslaught alone.

Not that he was truly alone. La– Queen Lorna stood beside him still, without rest or hesitation through the entire event. Genn had not had Mia for his coronation, not as a wife yet, and had been alone in truth. Only the old archbishop and his aides to witness the oaths of his vassals.

Liam was in a better position than he had been. Not just his queen, the presence of the witches changed things; no doubt her magic was being used to aid the flagging couple as the day wore on. A good change from the past.

"Your Majesty!" A jovial voice said, approaching with an easy smile. "I had hoped to speak with you, if you have but a moment."

"It is 'Lord Greymane', Wilberth." Genn replied after he took a moment to place the face. Lord Wilberth of Sevenbite; a small town on the northern bite, a loyalist town once under Godfrey. "I am king no longer."

He nodded quickly. "Of course, of course... but you are still of House Greymane, and are father to the king of course!" He simpered. "I just wished to wonder what your thoughts on this House of Commons was. Myself, you see, I feel it is utter foolishness – allowing us to aid the young king in his rule? It is understandable. But the peasantry?"

Tutting, the overly friendly lord shook his head. "Preposterous."

Genn's face remained still, but he felt his irritation building. "King Liam shall rule as he sees fit, and in accordance with his oaths. Should he believe a House of Commons will benefit Gilneas, then a House of Commons there shall be."

Though he truly believed the existence of either madness, Father had shown his trust in the common folk with his Inventors and if Liam wished to expand on that... Genn would not gainsay him.

With the oath he had proclaimed so openly and clearly referring to the creation of a House of Lords, it could not be walked back. Genn had little choice but to back his son until the bitter end, no what that end might be. Yet, even now, with this conversation, the foolishness of its creation was shown.

Lickspittles currying favour and seeking influence they did not deserve. Influence they would simply be gifted at the expense of the crown.

Of the two, the commons would be the lesser evil. They, at least, had little interest in such politics.

"Oh, of course." Wilberth nodded again. "It is just, they do not understand, do they? Perhaps a few, but there is word the church and witches will have a place in the Lords. A few spots could be left open for those who distinguish themselves. A full second house is simply excessive, is it not?"

"Hardly." A drolly amused voice entered. "Your... Highness? Emeritus Rex?"

Seeing the man, it took much longer to place him. Lord Landel, an unassuming lord from the fertile plains between the Ember and Northgate Rivers. "Simply Lord Greymane. My son has granted me leave to retain the manor and Duskhaven for myself and my lady wife."

Had the man not become somewhat famous for befriending the witch prophet and befriending her when she hung other lords from trees, binding their souls to eternal torment, Genn would not have known the baron's name.

"Lord Greymane then." Landel smiled genuinely. "If I might speak in defence of the commons, I would first bring forth Good King Archibold's inventors: We all know the greatness that they have brought to our nation, and one and all they are commonfolk."

Wilberth, however, was clearly unconvinced. "Lodr Tommin created the Tommin Forges which our nation is dependant upon. He is hardly a commoner.

"Oh, truly." Landel let out a chuckle, and knowing the story himself, Genn joined him. "The esteemed Tommin left for Ironforge with a pair of young and clever boys, who apprenticed under a dwarven blacksmith as he drank himself sick on Thunderbrew ales. Learning all they could from the dwarves, they devised a method to replicate the great forges of Khaz Modan outside of their stonewrought forges. Clay bricks and clever cooling to prevent the melting of air pipes, I believe..."

Genn waved a hand, dismissing the details. "The exact methods escape me also. It was after the scandal of discovering Tommin's deception that Father insisted upon testing those to be titled Inventor."

Father's insistence upon studying the designs and schematics had been strange to him as a child, and he had never been able to take in the knowledge as his father had. In time, he had delegated the process entirely to a panel from well-respected guilds, trusting in them to keep their ranks honest.

Having heard Liam's impassioned speech on understanding what the industries had suffered with the closing of the wall... no. He would not dwell on such things.

"But–" Wilberth flushed red. "They are still called Tommin Forges!"

"The name stuck, it was not for years after their use became widespread that the ruse was uncovered." Landel said languidly. "Were we honest, they would be Ironforge Forges. Or perhaps Toby-Chris forges."

Genn smiled, knowing the other half of this joke also. "Or Smith-Smith forges." The boys both being blacksmiths’ sons, and named for such.

They had a good laugh at Wilberth's expense, with several others nearby tittering as they overheard the exchange. It did not take long for him to murmur some platitudes and take his leave.

"Truthfully, I am undecided on my feelings towards the houses." Lord Landel continued after a moment. "I understand more than most, having spent weeks of travel alongside the very architect for the idea, but knowing my fellow lords... we shall fight a battle to simply fight a battle. Yet, perhaps that itself is for the best."

Looking at the man, and somewhat curious as to whom this architect was, Genn raised his brow questioningly.

"Better that we fight with words than with blades, I mean." Landel explained, mistaking where his curiosity lay. "Certainly we shall divide upon lines of loyalty, rebels and royals, for the moment... but soon enough other rivalries will come into play. I can hardly see the Hewells aligning themselves with the Waldens except under grave duress; nor myself with the Wilberths after that particular exchange."

"Perhaps." It was insightful enough. "Thank you for your thoughts, Lord Landel, but I do believe it is my turn at last."

The rough line reaching up to Liam had dwindled to nothing, the last few straggling lords having given their oath and either departed or begun to mingle. Even Arugal had affirmed his loyalties to the crown, and Princess Menethil, Paladin Magroth, and Mage Tindersnap had given their compliments from their respective groups.

"It was my pleasure, Lord Greymane. May your evening be a pleasant one."

Leaving the man behind Genn approached his son, seeing the apprehension on his face through his mask. He had known him too long to be fooled by such things.

Kneeling down, Genn took his son's hand. "Your Majesty, I, Lord Greymane, swear my loyalty to the Crown of Gilneas and my king, Liam Greymane. Long may you reign, Son."