Memoirs 493 - Regency (Patreon)

Scarlett mostly tuned out the royal herald as the man went through his opening declarations. There wasn’t much in them she didn’t already know or expect.

He called for a minute of silence in remembrance of those who had lost their lives or suffered during the attack on the very heart of the empire. When that was done, he spoke about the tragedy that had struck them, the wounds left behind, and the grief shared by people throughout Elystead. But an empire, he declared, was not measured by whether hardship ever reached its people. It was measured by how they answered it. They had endured tribulations before. Each time, they had stood back up, rebuilt what had been broken, and emerged stronger for the trials they had survived.

Scarlett only started paying closer attention when he mentioned the emperor.

Her eyes moved to the elaborately robed man standing near the foot of the stairs leading up to the throne.

“From the first years of our empire, His Imperial Majesty and those who bore the Crown before him have led us through war, famine, calamity, and strife,” the herald proclaimed. “When uncertainty threatened to divide us, the Crown gave direction. When our enemies sought to break us, it gave us purpose. His Majesty has been the shepherd of this realm, and beneath his guiding light, generations of Graenal’s sons and daughters have found the strength to endure.”

At those words, gazes across the chamber drifted towards the empty throne to Scarlett’s right.

“That is why the blow struck against us now may seem greater still. The attack upon Dawnlight Palace did not only wound our capital. It has left His Imperial Majesty beyond the reach of his court and, for the present, unable to exercise the duties entrusted to the Crown.”

Murmurs spread through the hall.

Scarlett watched expressions tighten throughout the crowd. There was worry there, but not much genuine surprise. Most of those present had probably already known that the emperor was missing. The real question had been how—and when—the Crown intended to acknowledge it publicly.

Several factions had already begun making moves around the issue. Lord Withersworth had visited the mansion the previous day to speak with his wife, and according to him, some of the most aggressive manoeuvring was coming from those with seats in the Imperial Diet.

Not that Scarlett cared too much.

Imperial politics were pretty low on her list of priorities at the moment.

“In his wisdom,” the royal herald continued, voice carrying easily over the lingering whispers, “His Majesty understood that there might come a day when the obligations of the Crown could not wait upon his hand alone. He therefore left instruction for such a circumstance, sealed beneath his authority and entrusted to those charged with preserving the continuity of this empire.”

The herald struck his staff against the floor once more. The crack reverberated through the chamber.

Behind Scarlett, doors swung open.

She turned her head slightly to watch as the crown prince entered. She had already met with him earlier that morning, so the long mantle and the rest of his ceremonial dress didn’t come as any surprise. What she hadn’t expected was that all five members of the Royal Guard would be following behind him.

Sir Holdger and Sir Dariel stopped at the top of the stairs, taking positions on either side of the entrance. Dame Iyana and Dame Leandra continued down with the prince before separating at the foot of the dais, Dame Iyana coming to stand only a few steps to Scarlett’s left.

Captain Swale remained with the prince all the way to the throne, stopping just short of it.

Scarlett had both seen and heard enough about the injuries the Swords suffered during the attack to know they hadn’t escaped lightly. Healing magic could do a lot, but there were limits, especially if it wasn’t applied immediately.

She had expected Captain Swale and Sir Dariel, at the very least, to be out of commission for a lot longer, but apparently not.

Her attention lingered on the First Sword.

The man stood rigidly beside the throne, facing the hall with one hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

…Or maybe Scarlett had been right after all.

There was something slightly off about his posture. It was subtle enough that she might have missed it if she hadn’t been standing so close, but he seemed to be holding himself with a little too much care. She could also feel the faintest pressure around him, reminding her of the presence that surrounded people like Arnaud Astrey when they exerted their aura.

With armour concealing both his face and most of his body, there was no real way to judge how well he had recovered. But Scarlett wouldn’t be surprised if he was here simply because appearances demanded it.

That said, she was probably one of the only people in the chamber paying much attention to the Swords right now.

Everyone else was busy watching the crown prince.

He had just sat down on the previously empty throne.

One arm settled against the armrest as he looked out across the chamber, taking in the gathered nobles and officials with a composed expression.

Then he motioned towards the herald.

The man struck his staff again.

“By sealed writ of His Imperial Majesty, bearing his hand and the Imperial Seal, and under those provisions reserved for a time when the Crown is unable to discharge its duties, let all those gathered here bear witness.”

His voice rose even higher.

“Until such time as His Imperial Majesty returns to his station or the present authority is otherwise lawfully concluded, Crown Prince Garten Kalman Verddun Teronia is invested with the regency of Graenal and entrusted with the powers necessary to govern in the Crown’s stead.”

The herald turned towards the throne and lowered his head. “Let those assembled recognise His Majesty, Garten Kalman Verddun Teronia, Imperial Regent of Graenal.”

As the words settled over the chamber, nobody said anything.

Several seconds of silence passed.

Then the whispers started.

They spread quickly among the nobles, especially on the side of the hall reserved for those bearing landed titles. Men and women leaned towards one another, exchanging hushed words and significant looks. Surprise mixed with what Scarlett imagined was suspicion, calculation, concern, and more than a little displeasure.

Across the chamber, among the remaining nobles, officials, and other dignitaries, there was less open discussion. There were more openly shocked faces, though. A few even looked angry.

The crown prince simply watched it all. His expression remained calm, giving away little as the chamber reacted in front of him.

It actually reminded Scarlett of the emperor.

It would be interesting to see if he would manage to lead in a similar manner. He wasn’t exactly met by the most jubilant cheers. Though he would also have been a fool to expect that. The Graenal Empire placed a great deal of authority in the hands of its emperor, but there were still matters that had always existed outside the Crown’s direct control, tangled up in old laws, noble privileges, ministerial offices, and generations of imperial bureaucracy.

Succession was one of them.

For one, no new emperor could simply declare himself crowned and be done with it. The Imperial Diet had to give its assent, and several high offices had their own required parts in the process. The Keeper of the Imperial Seal, for example, was responsible for verifying and sealing the formal instruments through which an accession was recognised.

The Followers of Ittar also held a place in the proceedings because of the imperial line’s long-standing connection to the church. And there were probably even more steps that Scarlett simply didn’t know about.

All of that meant that, while an emperor could usually ensure their chosen heir eventually succeeded them, the actual transition wasn’t immediate. It usually took months, and in a few historical cases, years.

Traditionally, that delay gave everyone important enough to matter time to take the measure of the heir. Nobles would sound them out. Ministries would test where they stood on old disputes. Factions would try to learn which policies would survive the transition and which might disappear with the former sovereign.

It wasn’t necessarily as unstable or cutthroat as one might expect from an imperial succession. It was mostly just practical. People with enough power to be affected by a new emperor wanted some idea of what that emperor planned to do before handing them the throne. Even many who fully intended to support the chosen heir expected that much.

Which was why declaring Garten imperial regent like this was a risky move.

He wasn’t technically becoming emperor, but in practical terms, the distinction only went so far. The regency placed the powers of the Crown in his hands, bypassing much of the long period where everyone else would normally have the opportunity to probe and bargain.

As Scarlett understood it, the legal foundation for the move was real, but it was also pretty narrow. The authority only existed because the empire was facing several overlapping crises and because the emperor himself had apparently prepared for exactly this sort of situation. But more importantly, legality on paper only mattered if enough influential people decided to respect it.

The crown prince was still betting that the major powers of the empire would accept his authority once he took hold of it.

The murmuring continued for a while.

The crown prince—imperial regent, now—allowed it. Eventually, he raised one hand, and the royal herald brought his staff down. The sharp crack cut through the chamber, and conversations stopped one after another until silence returned.

“My father has always placed this empire above all else,” the prince said. “Whatever else may be said of his reign, no one can deny that our people have prospered under it. From the common labourer to the highest lord, do most not live better now than they did before? I have spoken with many of you individually, and heard much the same.”

He tapped his fingers against the arm of the throne a few times, almost as if testing how it felt beneath his hand.

“Since I was a boy, I have looked up to my father and the standard he set for himself. I know that I still fall short of it in many ways. But for as long as I hold this position, I will do everything within my power to uphold that same standard. However, if anyone here believes my assuming the regency under these circumstances is unacceptable, then now is the time to say so.”

No one did.

Scarlett wasn’t particularly surprised.

Both Lord and Lady Withersworth had been of the opinion that there was never much chance of anyone raising a serious objection here. Mainly because this was the wrong place for it. Whatever arguments people might have over the exact limits of the regency or whether the prince had enough justification to invoke it, opposing the move outright wasn’t easy. With the emperor missing and Dawnlight Palace having been under attack only days ago, no one could say with certainty what state the empire would be in a week from now.

And it wasn’t as if standing up in front of the entire court and denouncing the crown prince was going to make him step down.

Besides, Scarlett suspected a fair number of the people annoyed by today’s announcement still supported the prince himself. Their issue wasn’t necessarily that he held power. They simply would have preferred more time to make sure at least some of that power passed through their hands first.

When several more seconds went by without anyone speaking, the prince gave a small nod. “Then I will assume there are no immediate objections. Good. Let us move on to the first order of business.”

Once more, Scarlett mostly tuned out the specifics of what followed.

Between the prince and the herald, they went over the most important developments of the last several days and the measures the ‘Crown’ had agreed on with its advisors. Most of it amounted to different versions of the same thing: restore order, get the imperial administration functioning properly again where it had been damaged, and send as many nobles as possible back to their own territories before new problems had a chance to develop in their absence.

While the sudden attack on the palace had delayed the expansion of the Empyreal Barrier and raised some obvious concerns about the Barrier itself, several inspections had apparently found no serious problems with it. Its expansion had therefore been made a priority again.

As of now, the Barrier had reached Bridgespell and most of the larger settlements near Rellaria Lake. If everything continued as expected, most of the empire would fall within its coverage over the coming week.

A few more announcements followed. Some concerned travel and the movement of people between regions. Others dealt with rural administration and changes to military readiness now that the Barrier was expected to greatly reduce the threat from monsters. There were also temporary arrangements for the imperial offices whose leadership had been disrupted by the attack on the palace.

Most of it seemed to fall within what a regent could reasonably get away with, so for now, Scarlett didn’t notice too many openly belligerent faces. Although she imagined that could change quickly depending on how those measures were actually carried out.

Once it seemed as if matters were drawing to a close, the prince straightened slightly on the throne.

“There is one more matter before we continue,” he said. “One which I am certain my father would have preferred to address personally, had circumstances allowed it.”

His eyes settled on Scarlett.

“Baroness Scarlett Hartford.”

Scarlett ignored the sudden weight of attention on her as she stepped forward. She descended the stairs from the platform and stopped at their foot before turning back towards the throne and lowering herself onto one knee.

The royal herald stood a short distance to her left, his expression professionally blank. Sir Grimbald Crowder, captain of the Imperial Solar Knights, watched from the other side with considerably more interest.

“Baroness,” the crown prince said.

Scarlett looked up at him.

“I will not spend our time recounting all of your achievements. Everyone here knows them by now. Slayer of dragons. Saviour of Dawnlight Palace. My father named you a hero of this empire.” He gestured across the chamber. “If anyone still doubted the weight of that judgement before, I believe those doubts have now been answered.”

Scarlett inclined her head. “Your words honour me, Your Majesty. I simply did what I must.”

“Perhaps. Regardless, your service deserves recognition. Since you were granted the name Revenant Flame only days ago, I fear bestowing another grand title upon you so soon would only diminish the one you have already earned. Instead, I intend to offer you something more practical.”

The prince let his hand fall back to the arm of the throne.

“For the duration of my regency, you are to serve as a special counsellor to the Crown. You will be granted the authority and access necessary to carry out any duties I entrust to you. In addition, as a reward for your service, I grant you entry to the Imperial Reliquary. You may choose one item from its collection to keep as your own.”

A stir passed through the chamber.

Scarlett’s eyes widened slightly.

She’d known he intended to give her a position of some kind. They had already discussed that much beforehand, and she had agreed to it. Partly because publicly lending her name to his new administration would strengthen his position, and partly because it gave the prince a reasonable excuse to ‘keep an eye on her’ despite already knowing she had more than a few questionable associations.

For Scarlett, it was better if he didn’t feel overly threatened by her. Accepting the position was a small concession if it meant he would be willing to look the other way on some things.

In a sense, they were making use of each other.

The Imperial Reliquary, however, had never come up. That was considerably more than she had expected.

Scarlett kept her expression composed, but it took an actual effort not to smile.

The right to choose almost anything she wanted from the imperial collection…

That genuinely excited her.

“Do you accept these honours and duties, Baroness Hartford?” the crown prince asked.

“I do, Your Majesty.”

“Then rise.”

Scarlett stood.

“Serve the empire as well in this capacity as you have thus far.”

“I shall endeavour to do so.”

She ascended the stairs once more and returned to her place beside Mistress.

The rest of the proceedings passed fairly quickly after that, with the herald bringing the gathering to its formal conclusion.

Since the crown prince was imperial regent and not emperor, there was no general oath of fealty or ceremony where those assembled were expected to kneel and pledge themselves to him. In a private audience with an imperial prince, bows and other formal courtesies might have been expected, but something on this scale was different. That sort of collective display was generally reserved for the emperor himself.

Not that anyone needed an oath to work out who supported the man. Scarlett imagined the next few weeks would make that clear enough on their own.

Once the herald declared the proceedings concluded, the prince departed first with the Royal Guard. Those who had stood near the throne followed soon after, and Mistress fell into step beside Scarlett as they left the platform.

“My,” the woman murmured, a smirk playing on her dark lips. “Counsellor to the regent? How curious that I wasn’t privy to that particular tidbit, hmm? And I thought you had no intention of playing politics?”

Scarlett glanced around. That faint shimmer had returned to the air around them.

“That still remains true. And I find it difficult to believe you were unaware of what was happening.”

Mistress’ smirk widened. “You do know me well, don’t you?”

She looked towards the doors ahead, where the crown prince had disappeared.

“That boy. He was always a bit bumbling, but at least he knew better than to ever trust me. I’d argue it’s his most redeeming quality.”

“Perhaps.” Scarlett let a few steps pass before adding, “I will speak with you later.”

“Mm. I’ll look forward to it.”

They separated soon afterwards, and Scarlett was escorted back through the palace to one of the rooms that had been set aside for her.

Fynn was waiting inside.

He had claimed the wide window seat near the far wall, one leg drawn up beneath him as he turned a small silver armillary sphere between his hands. Its interlocking rings shifted around a tiny globe at the centre as he inspected it from different angles.

Scarlett paused when she first saw it, but relaxed when she realised it was likely just an ordinary armillary sphere and not the one she knew Mistress used.

Fynn looked up at her.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“Better than expected,” Scarlett answered.

Scarlett crossed to the folding screen near the dressing table. The moment she was out of sight, she activated her [Charm of Expeditious Change]. The elaborate gown she was wearing disappeared, replaced by one of her own simpler dresses.

Although ‘simpler’ was always relative when it came to these things.

She adjusted the fall of one sleeve, then brought out a thin vial containing the stamina potion Allyssa had prepared for her and drank it.

“Are you finally a queen now?” came Fynn’s voice from beyond the screen.

Scarlett stopped with the empty vial still against her lips.

The potion began working its way through her, taking the edge off the heaviness in her body. The ache in her legs didn’t disappear, but it dulled enough to become easier to ignore.

She stepped out from behind the screen.

Fynn was watching her calmly.

Scarlett studied him, eyes narrowing.

“You were making a joke.”

“Yes.”

Fynn returned his attention to the silver sphere, turning it once more before letting go. A gentle current of air caught it and carried it across the chamber, lowering it onto a narrow table among several other decorative pieces.

“Kelnorin thought you were a queen when you first met,” he said. “The joke was that—”

“I understood,” Scarlett cut him off.

She shook her head and walked over to the small tea table near the centre of the room. The teacup she had left there earlier was still waiting for her, though whatever warmth it had held was long gone. She picked it up and focused, carefully drawing on her mana and coaxing just enough heat through the porcelain to warm the tea without putting any unnecessary strain on herself.

“It is somewhat frightening when you make jokes,” she muttered.

“I’ve heard. Should I stop?”

“Not on my account, no. Though I would advise against explaining them afterwards.”

“Alright.”

Scarlett sat down, finally giving her feet the rest they had been demanding. Fynn remained by the window, idly drawing one unfamiliar ornament after another from around the room into his hands with small currents of air. He inspected each for a while before returning it and moving on to something else.

Apparently, the palace’s collection of strange little luxuries had caught his interest.

A knock eventually sounded at the door, followed by an attendant entering.

“Your Ladyship, I have been asked to inform you that a council has been called, and His Majesty has requested your presence. Before that, however, the arrangements for your entry to the Imperial Reliquary have been finalised. Its custodians have received His Majesty’s instructions, and you may visit at your convenience.”

Scarlett lowered her cup slightly.

They worked fast, huh?