Chapter 17

It was two days before King Maitala called Gwendolyn back to the throne room. When he did, he also sent along a dress and a small necklace with a tiny ruby embedded in a pendant. Gwendolyn had largely stuck to her rooms following the dinner, which had been overwhelming. She had not yet even wandered out to see the famous library of the Maitala family, though Pegella had invited her to do so. She had opted instead to have Pegella bring her a few books, to have meals brought to her room, and to spend her time reading in the gardens.

She wasn’t avoiding the Royal Family, but she didn’t see them again in those two days. The Duchess lived in the Windenshire district, and Devotee Ayra lived in the monastery just outside of Imirene. The others seemed to have busy schedules, and though Gwendolyn saw them here and there from a distance, their paths simply didn’t cross.

So, she was surprised when the King called for her so quickly. She didn’t think that she was a top priority, but since she had arrived at the Capitol, nothing had been what she had expected.

A young Royal servant, even younger than Pegella, had been sent to fetch her. After she had changed into the dress the King had sent, she followed the boy. She somewhat remembered the route to the throne room but was nevertheless sure she would never have made it without assistance.

The boy bowed at the large wooden doors, which were left open that day, and stood to the side.

Gwendolyn took a deep breath as she proceeded through the doors and smiled. She tried to hold her head high, despite the lifetime she spent looking down and hoping to go unnoticed. The first thing she noticed was the presence of six dragons, all various sizes, Solithi the closest to her as she emerged into the room. The second thing she noticed, immediately afterward, was that most of the Royal Family was there as well. Duchess Rayla wasn’t, Gwendolyn assumed because she had gone back to Windenshire, but all the others from the dinner two nights previously were there.

At the other end of the room, the same chairs filled with men in luxurious clothing sat around the dais. This time, however, there were many more of them, and as Gwendolyn looked more closely, she saw a handful of women among them as well. The two rows closest to the thrones, about twenty chairs, were more ornate. There were many less ornate chairs behind those ones though, which hadn’t been there when Gwendolyn arrived. She couldn’t count how many, but thought it was over a hundred. With so many people, and dragons, the massive hall seemed slightly smaller to her. There was some air of formality that hadn’t been there before, and both King Arelon and Queen Rabecci were seated on thrones at the top of the platform. She approached them slowly, trying not to look too nervous.

At the halfway point between the door and the thrones, where Solithi stood to one side against the wall, were two guards. She paused before them, unsure if she should proceed.

“Lady Gwendolyn Fields of The Floating Valley,” called out one of them. Gwendolyn still felt uncomfortable with the term ‘Lady,’ having no title and not being used to being treated with respect and deference.

After a second, during which Gwendolyn remained standing before the two guards, the other one turned slightly to her and said, in a low voice, “you may proceed.”

Gwendolyn tried not to blush as she walked forward, coming to a stop in between the two aisles of chairs before the platform on which the King and Queen sit. She curtsied.

“You may rise,” said the King, with more amiability in his voice than the last time. She did so and looked up at the dais, where the King and Queen were smiling at her.

“Gwendolyn Fields of The Floating Valley,” the King began, “my family and I owe you our eternal gratitude. For the return of Solithi, my son’s dragon, we feel we can never fully repay you. It has helped ease the pain of the loss of our youngest son.”

The King waved a hand, and to Gwendolyn’s right, a noble stood from his chair. Though Gwendolyn didn’t know who he was, he looked important. He was holding, she noticed for the first time, a strange, short staff of some kind. It was carved with a dragon of obsidian at the top, and the rest of the staff was sparkling silver. The noble walked forward until he stood at the edge of the stairs leading up to the thrones.

The King stood and descended the dais toward her. He grasped the staff from the noble, who bowed low and then sat back down.

“I had an opportunity to consider would be an appropriate reward for the services you’ve rendered this Kingdom, and the Maitala family. On this day, using the scepter of the Dragon, carved in the likeness of the first dragon, tamed by my ancestors in the City of Gold, I name you the Marquess of The Floating Valley.”

Gwendolyn gasped, audibly. Her gasp echoed throughout the chamber. Montpoint Manor was the duchy seat not terribly far from Bartet, though in a different county. The manor had been empty for several years. The prior nobleman from the duchy, Marquess Tawsel Reverad, was beheaded after a plot to stir up the tensions between Imirene and Parcee was discovered.

That was all Gwendolyn knew of that scandal. The King had named one of his minor sons as an Earl of all the various counties on The Floating Valley, but as far as Gwendolyn was aware, no one had even visited the manor since Duke Reverad’s death.

Around Gwendolyn, there were murmurs which came from some of the nobles. She also noticed that the twenty men sitting in the most ornate chairs seemed split in attitude. Some looked pleased, or pleasantly indifferent, but a few stared at her darkly as the King approached her.

“Please kneel,” King Arelon said, standing before her.

Wordlessly, and on instinct, because her brain still felt numb from the shock of what was happening, Gwendolyn knelt before the King.

“With the Scepter of the Dragon, bestowed upon me by my father on the day of my ascension to King of Imirene, carved in the likeness of the First Dragon of the Maitala family, and upon my authority as granted to me by the power of the Five Gods, I hereby name you Gwendolyn Fields, Marquess of The Floating Valley, a duchy of Imirene in the center of the country. This title is a peerage which you may pass on to any heirs of body or will, and which comes with lands consisting of the twenty-five acres surrounding and including Montpoint Manor, yearly maintenance of five hundred gold pieces, and the Violet Chalet here in Ardelen for receiving and conducting business in the Capitol.”

The King set the scepter gently on her right shoulder. Then he reached out a hand to her, and when she grasped it, he lifted her to her feet.

“Rise now into your new peerage, created in the authority and by the divine will of the Five Gods,” he said. He stepped back, and to Gwendolyn’s further surprise, the Queen stood. When she did so, Gwendolyn noticed for the first time a small diadem in her hands.

The Queen did not approach, however. To Gwendolyn’s left, another noble stepped forward with a small coronet. It was not quite the full, tall crowns that the Royal Family wore, and especially not the elaborate ones worn by the King and Queen. But it was a small silver circlet with five delicate looking bands of silver which went over the top of the coronet, meeting at the top of the head where a single lustrous pearl sat in the middle.

Bowing gently, the noble placed the coronet on Gwendolyn’s head. It felt odd and heavy, but she noticed it also made her stand up straighter, already as if she was more confident.

Then the Queen stepped forward, walked down the dais steps, and approached Gwendolyn, proffering the small diadem in her hands. In a quiet voice, one meant for Gwendolyn alone, the Queen said, “I know you may not know much of the formalities of court life. Only the Royal Family may wear full crowns, but nobles are given a coronet like the one you wear now for formal occasions. Additionally, for everyday use, nobles may wear diadems. This is one my grandmother wore when she was a Duchess in the lowlands.” The Queen pressed it into Gwendolyn’s hands. “Since you don’t have one, I thought I would give you your first diadem.”

“Thank you,” Gwendolyn said, dipping her head as low as she felt she could without shaking off the coronet perched on her hair. She couldn’t curtsy in her dress with her hands clutching the diadem, so she hoped the motion would be sufficient.

In an even lower voice, the King said, “after this, you’ll make your exit.” Then in a loud voice, while he gave Gwendolyn a small smile and nod, he called out, “the peerage papers, please!”

An important looking official who had been standing beside the dais scurried forward. Though he looked well-off, dressed in thick linens, he did not appear to be a noble. He carried a large, waxed sealed scroll in his arms.

“My secretary shall accompany you to your quarters,” the King said, “he shall carry your papers and will help you begin to set up your household.”

The King and Queen both turned back to their thrones and ascended the stairs. Gwendolyn recognized this as a sign that she had been dismissed.

Holding her head high against the foreignness of the coronet she wore, she turned and walked in what she hoped was a dignified confidence back toward the exit. Stopping, as before, at the two guards, the same one from before now announced her exit.

“Lady Gwendolyn Fields, Marquess of The Floating Valley.”

The nobles all rose formally at her announcement and remained standing as she proceeded down the length of the hall and out the door.