Chapter 210 - Coronation Ceremony

The polished rim of a wine glass sparkled under the chandelier’s brilliant lighting before being raised to meet the well-manicured lips of a handsome man, his gloves and suit immaculate for all to see. The alcoholic liquid flowed smoothly, the white transparent bubbles soothing to anyone witnessing.

Yet the impressive display was instantly shattered by a large burly man beside him, his suit equally perfect in every way save for the burly man’s demeanor. “Sebastian, this tie is too tight! Can’t I do without the tie?”

“Stand still and shut up!” Sebastian snapped in a hushed whisper. “You represent the Ardent Cretins here – your behavior here will reflect poorly on us and make our defeat even harder to wipe away!”

Even as Sebastian said he had no intentions nor expectations of wiping away the defeat. The humiliation of the loss to the Seven Snakes was common knowledge among those in their circle.

Only a few who were still friends with the Ardent Cretins gathered around Sebastian, those daring and bold enough to suffer the disdain from the other cliques that were building. Already, Sebastian was locking eyes with other major gang leaders, who would formerly be on good talking terms. Now, their glares only spoke of distrust, greed, and ambition.

Sebastian spied from the corner of his eye a tall, lanky man approaching him, his formal dress suit sparkling with medals with emblems unknown to anyone but their wearer, making him look like a decorated military officer of sorts. The other attendees around the area eyed him with interest, hoping for some exciting drama.

Events like this always happened – it was a battle of perception and reputation between gangs after all. Who did not want to be viewed as the top? A hesitant sigh nearly leaked from Sebastian’s mouth, which instead curled into a feigned smile towards the approaching lanky man.

“Sebastian, you are less talkative than the last time we’ve met in such a fashion.” The tall lanky man announced loudly, in an obvious showmanship of authority and confidence.

“Good evening to you too, Bolsh.” Sebastian muttered just loud enough for the bystanders to hear, resulting in a small wave of chuckles and gasp among them.

The tall lanky man was startled for a moment, a fury building up among his brows as he realized what has happened. “It’s GeneralBolsh to you, cretin.”

“I’m not part of the Bolsh Legion and am certainly not obliged to call you General under any circumstances. Even if I was, I would be reluctant to.”

“Big talk for someone who lost to an upstart gang that is barely less than a year old!” Bolsh spat. “If that gang had been in my Sector I would have crushed him in an instant!”

“All talk and no action, Bolsh. You’ve barely fought past the enforcers’ defensive line in the North Sector, and if it were not for my economic support, you would have lost immediately.” Sebastian sneered. “Or does the esteemed general bite the hand that feeds it, too? Expected of a dog.”

“Taunts are all you have left, it seems, with nothing to show for it. You’ve lost more than two-thirds of your original territory – I do not owe idiots who cannot protect themselves anything.”

“Have you barked enough yet?” Sebastian waved him off dismissively. “Your rusting medals are affecting my sense of smell. Or perhaps you would like Ares to show you the way back.”

Bolsh finally noticed Ares standing behind Sebastian, his intimidating size enough to frighten the lanky man backward. Despite Ares’s public loss against the Seven Snakes, his strength had been reaffirmed in recent times, especially with opportunistic thug outfits trying to take advantage of the Ardent Cretin’s apparent weaknesses. It was events like this where Sebastian truly appreciated the invention of the lightcapturer and thrower, the mutilated bodies of those who went against Ares publicized for all to see.

“Mock all you want – you’ll get what you deserve in due time,” Bolsh warned sternly before returning to his group quickly before Ares could inch any closer, his confidants and subordinates gathered around a table.

Sebastian took a deep breath, the frustration leaving him, having vented on Bolsh. Despite his relative weakness, Ares was still a significant powerhouse in the city, not someone to be trifled with. Furthermore, he still retained the loyalty of his black knights, a core group of the best fighters that could give any major gang a run for his money.

If he were not so concerned with the economic degradation of the city or the political fallout, he would have instantly decimated the Seven Snakes in one fell swoop. Yet it proved to be the right move to not ‘win’ the battle, as the other Sectors failed to overthrow their Barons. At least, that was what Sebastian lied to himself to assuage the loss against Kyle.

As he took another sip from the wine glass, his eyes scanned the surroundings. The ballroom, part of Count Leon’s former residences was filled to the brim with every man and woman of note in Raktor.

Gang leaders, business owners, nobility, and even enforcers attended. It was quite a sight to see two sides of the law meeting here in an open buffet where cake and alcohol ran freely. Any sane common folk who saw such a meeting would be outraged at the courtesy with which both sides treated each other. Perhaps the common folk would shout of corruption and collusion – but this was simply the truth of how the city worked. Crime was just a game of profit between the two.

Even now, right in the palace, gang leaders and enforcers were discussing new plans and collaborations to profit off the illegality of certain products and services. Bribes swapped hands faster than one could say ‘arcia’, and even open talk of expansions into the neighboring towns and villages.

Only the powerful could truly talk like this in the open with no fear of retribution – especially not the enforcers whose budget depended on the tax and tributes paid by the gangs and business owners. And with no overseeing Count handling the trades and deals, corruption ran rampant, cliques forming faster than the eye could blink.

Sebastian could see many business owners swarming the Tul’e Da’li’s various leaders, trying to get in with the de facto largest gang in Raktor right now. Sebastian locked eyes with one of their leaders, earning a smirk in his direction that pissed off Sebastian to no end. Those damn fuckers…

A familiar footstep echoed behind Sebastian on the white marble floors, Sebastian turning around to meet Bishop Vernette and Inquisitor Mason, both of who wore their Sanctum’s ceremonial outfits.

“Sebastian.”

“Bishop.”

Despite the obvious damage and loss Sebastian had caused the South Sector, it was still necessary to treat him well, lest another civil war were to break out once again. The Bishop held diplomacy in the highest regard, compromising with her own sworn agenda to accommodate the Ardent Cretins, making small talk with Sebastian.

Ares on the other hand, hardly gave a shit about any of the political intrigues going on, instead focused on tasting each and every dish that was offered in the place, moving to other tables and collecting samples before retreating behind Sebastian and savoring each one with a bored expression. As he was about to pop another muffin into his mouth, he noticed Mason eyeing him intently.

“You want one?” Ares offered a different muffin to Mason, but Mason refused, instead smoking on his Euria Seed pipe again, the blue fumes slowly twirling upwards to the chandeliers above.

“You see Kyle and Baron Cain yet?”

The name seemed to make something click in Ares, as though a switch had been turned on within. He excitedly glanced around, before realizing that Kyle was nowhere to be seen. “I don’t see them, where are they?”

“I was asking…” Mason sighed, but as soon as he said that, a tapping ringing sound could be heard at the top of the stage.

“Thank you all for attending. Unfortunately, the Duke is unable to attend. In his place, Mage Percival shall be his representative. Please welcome him.” A servant announced, with the Mage appearing behind him on stage, wielding an honorary sword that clearly bore the coat of arms of the Duke. The mage appeared extremely bored, though one could also say he had no expression at all.

“And without further ado, the person who shall be coronated as the Count of Raktor – Baron Namor.”

Tame and controlled applause rose from the attendees as Baron Namor entered the ballroom with guard of honors flanking on both sides. His attire was fully resplendent like never before seen, a ceremonial outfit that was unmatched by anyone else, displaying his own family’s coat of arms as well as the insignia that represented his baron’s position, along with various medals earned from wars past.

“Where the fuck is Kyle and Baron Cain? If they don’t show up, it will be the largest form of disrespect!” Bishop Vernette whispered urgently to Mason, who only shrugged with ignorance.

But before he could even reach the stage, the main double doors of the ballroom swung wide open, the streaming light from beyond only shadowed by a group of last-minute attendees, marching right in under the eyes of everyone else.

The man in the lead had a trench coat draped around his shoulders, the suit inside matching the intricate inner linings of the coat that sparkled from the luxurious embroidery. Each step he took revealed well-tailored pants, seamlessly smooth along with a rasping of polished dress shoes, the design as dazzling as the man’s handsome features that looked somewhat otherworldly. His sleeves were of the perfect cut, the cuffs peeking from beyond the jacket with yellow hints of gold sown into it.

Baron Cain walked in tandem with the man in the lead, confidence leaking out from each stride he took as he donned his best suit as well, reveling in the looks and stares he was receiving.

The seven members who trailed behind him as well in formation were no slouches either. The males had an equally impressive suit, while the ladies were all in stunning dresses, far outshining anything that the other ceremony attendees could pull off. Each of them walked with confidence, striding in with swagger and stealing the limelight.

None of the guards of honor dared to block them, unwilling to come face to face with the intimidating group that had just entered. Even Mage Percival raised an eyebrow, locking eyes with the man in the lead.

“Sorry, has the ceremony started? Hopefully, I’m just in time.” The man in the lead spoke clearly enough for the entire ballroom to hear, his presence and power seemingly emitting from just his words alone.

Everyone knew exactly who it was, yet did not dare to say anything, with not even so much as a chuckle. Even the usually boisterous General Bolsh had his mouth clammed up tightly, unwilling to earn the ire of the man who had just entered.

Baron Namor’s face darkened for a brief instant as he reached the stage, before returning to his former joyous façade. “Welcome, Kyle. You are indeed just in time.”

“Perfect. Do not mind me, please, continue.” Kyle smirked, offering a slight bow. Baron Namor fumed even more upon hearing that, knowing that Kyle chose that specific moment to enter. Yet he withheld his displeasure, allowing nothing to jeopardize the coronation ceremony.

However, he could already sense a loss of prestige among the attendees. It was an open secret that he had obtained this position through diplomacy and intrigue, rather than open combat. Until he could stand toe to toe with Kyle, Kyle’s victory over Ares would continue to overshadow him and weaken his authority.

The coronation continued as planned, the mage unveiling a scroll sealed with the Duke’s stamp.

“Under the authority bestowed upon me by Duke Reital, lord of the Western Domains of the Yual Dominion, I hereby award Baron Namor the position of Count of Raktor, for his unfaltering servitude and services to the Emperor and those who serve the will of Yual. Are you willing?”

“I am.” Baron Namor knelt before the mage, who wielded the honorary sword. The Baron held both his hands out, palms facing upwards as the sword gently sliced across with precision, blood seeping out from a skin wound painlessly.

“Do you swear upon your blood that you will do your duties to the best of your abilities? And do you swear upon your blood that you shall remain loyal to the Emperor and to the Sanctum of Yual?”

“I swear by my blood.” Baron Namor bowed deeply, with the tip of the sword resting on his head.

“Then you are now Count Namor of Raktor.”

Applause rang out from the ceremony’s attendees, with the Baron immediately wiping his bloodied hands with a cloth and smiling at the attendees. “Thank you all for coming. I pledge to make Raktor a stronger city than ever. The coming years may be harder than ever, but I will strive to ensure that both the city and the Yual Dominion will be better than it has ever been. Now, please, enjoy the feast and the entertainment.”

The ceremony was quick and straightforward – the Emperor himself was never about elaborate rituals, especially one behind closed doors. This was not the only coronation ceremony to be done: one more was to be completed in public soon after Baron Namor, now Count Namor, settled into the role and organized his affairs.

With the ceremony over, already everyone was glancing around, locking onto their targets with whom they wished to networked with. Many of them locked on to Count Namor, obviously the new wielder of ultimate legal power in Raktor, all of them instantly vying to have an audience with him.

Instead, Count Namor looked to Mage Percival, hoping to gather some favor with the Duke’s mages to grow his political strength further. To his chagrin, he witnessed Mage Percival not even giving him a glance, instead moving straight for Kyle, Baron Cain, and Ares, who were now discussing happily.

“You. You are the one who defeated Ares?” Percival examined Kyle.

“Yes.” Kyle replied nonchalantly, examining the mage as well. He could already tell Percival was far more adept at the utilization of arcia energy. With his limited arcia vision, he could sense the energy flow within Percival was unique and his own, unlike any other human he has seen, not even Ares.

“Impressive. Baron Cain has spoken very highly of you, and I must admit I have my reservations about you. But after seeing you in person, I can tell you do have some merit. The Duke will be very interested in meeting you.”

Baron Namor’s face paled after hearing that. He had worked for years before earning any form of audience with the Duke. To see Kyle earn such recognition after a mere meeting was like a slap to his face.

Before Kyle could respond, Keith hurriedly whispered into his ear. “Boss, the Keru Forest dungeon is in danger! Yona has reported over a hundred deaths in the last twenty-four hours!”