“We’re going to be late for the ceremony you realize?”
Cerion barely acknowledged his brother’s remark, concentrating as he was at his examination. Instead Azrael answered in his place.
“I’m sure Elstridge will forgive you for being late Orion, but we DO have to take care of this person you know… cause he’s dying.”
“But we’ll be late!” moaned Orion.
“I see that I also have to teach you something about priorities,” Azrael, noted as she turned back to Cerion. “How is he darling?”
Cerion took a deep breath before replying. “There’s some internal bleeding, but nothing that I can’t fix. Several of his ribs have been cracked as well, but thankfully none of them punctured his lung. I think I can fix him up, but we’ll need to take him inside.” Orion nodded emphatically to that last statement.
“Will he be able to stand the lifting?” asked Azrael, peering at the limp body.
“Shouldn’t be a problem, the ribs aren’t poking anything vital.”
The Hydromancer turned to regard his younger brother and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Chill Orion, if you can these days, we still have plenty of time, the ceremony doesn’t start for another ten minutes!”
Orion was bursting with frustration. “Exactly, ten minutes isn’t that long you know.”
Even as they had been talking, Azrael carefully picked up the unconscious man and they hurried into the castle.
***
9.32 minutes later
***
“I think I’ve stopped the bleeding and set the ribs,” Cerion announced, tired as he was from the precise exertions and pressure he had just undergone.
Azrael handed her fiancé a soft cloth. “Good work honey. Do you think it’s safe to leave him here?”
Cerion looked around, “sure, the office of a Council member should be as secure as any other part of the castle. Now let’s get to that coronation… where’s Orion?”
Checking herself quickly in the many mirrors that hung in Cerion’s office, Azrael glanced at her beloved’s reflection. “Didn’t you notice? He left while you were operating, made some pretentious excuse about using the bathroom.” She paused to regard her own reflection and then turned around, satisfied with the result. “To be fair to the boy though, it’s not everyday one of your best friends becomes King.”
Cerion nodded sagely, also checking his hair in a different mirror. “How do I look dear?” he asked as he absently smoothed down some hair behind his ears.
“Fine darling, but we really should go, or we’ll be late.”
“Right right, in a mom…”
“Now Cerion.” The tone used left no room for disagreement.
“At once dear.” Cerion replied meekly.
***
The moment of truth had come, and Elstridge was still of the opinion that it was all a big mistake. A view that was not shared by his mother, or the troop of soldiers who were his “Honor Guard”. Try as he might, it seemed like fate had conspired to force him through this process. Even so, that didn’t stop him from persevering against all odds…
“I’m sure you can see my point Captain.” He concluded to the Knight in charge, even as they walked down the hallway to the Ballroom entrance.
“Of course, your Highness.”
“That’s good, glad to know we’re on the same page.”
“As am I, your Highness.”
“It would be most embarrassing.”
“I agree, your Highness.”
“So will you let me go to the bathroom then?” A touch of hope crept into Elstridge’s voice.
“Absolutely not, your Highness.” The answer was final and very deliberate.
The Prince sighed deeply, something he had taken to doing a lot more of recently. Commands, requests and even outright deceit had all failed to provide the necessary components for his escape, and now he could see the doors of the Palace’s grand Ballroom, where over 500 people waited for him to arrive.
“Ho Elstridge!” shouted a familiar voice, causing the dejected young Prince to lift his head. Catching sight of Orion, still with his strange new hair style, a smile touched the face of the Prince.
“Ho Orion! I would have thought that you’d be inside already with the rest of the nobles, waiting for me to clap that big crown on my head.”
Orion looked down at his friend from the second story. With a deft jump, slide and roll he vaulted over the banister and down one of the many marble columns that supported the Palace. He drew level to the Guard, all of whom knew him, and looked quizzically at the Prince. “Actually they put it on for you, you know, that’s why it’s called a coronation… a crowning ceremony.”
Elstridge rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at his childhood friend. “Thanks for the reminder.”
Orion flashed a grin, “you still upset about it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“Of course!” I don’t want to be King!” complained Elstridge, even as they were ten meters from the Ballroom. “Could you work some of that Wind Weaver magic to get me out of here?”
Orion raised his hands to show his good intentions as the attention of the Honor Guard shifted suddenly. “I’d love to help, but I haven’t had much luck with the Wind Weaving lately, and plus I wouldn’t want to upset your mother now. Azrael AND Cerion would kill me if I did.”
Elstridge sighed again. “Then all is lost, you were my last hope.”
Orion chuckled. “Don’t worry about it so much. One day we’ll look back at this and laugh about how stubborn and stupid you were.”
His friend’s reply was tinged with dark foreboding, “or we’ll all be homeless and starving, either one yea?”
Orion laughed again and then scampered up the stairs to enter the Ballroom’s balcony. “Good luck!” he called as he disappeared around the corner.
“It’s not me,” muttered the Prince with a mental sigh, “it’s the Kingdom that I have to run.”
***
“Phew I think we made it.” Huffed Cerion, hand placed on the lintel of the doorway leading onto the balcony. “I don’t hear any trumpets.”
At his words, the trumpeters that lined the red carpet leading to the throne began to sound their fanfare announcing the entrance of the King.
“I think you’re deaf dear,” said Azrael with a massive grin even as she breezed past her rather less fit fiancé.
“But…” spluttered Cerion even as he also walked in.
The coronation had begun.
***
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