Public A Royal Pain

[DM Player-Slayer]

​

Centerra had dressed itself in crimson banners and gilded sunlight this fine autumn day.​

From the palace heights, the kingdom spilled downward in terraces of white stone, lush green gardens, market awnings, and river-bright roads crowded with banners left intentionally blank, their pale cloths stirring beneath the warm light of Eos. No house sigil had been permitted to dominate this day within the kingdom's streets. No old grievances, provincial emblems, or minor lordlings' private pride were on display. Only sun-discs of beaten gold and long ribbons of ivory marked the path toward the coronation grounds, where the bells had begun their slow, sonorous calling.

Above the city, three Sunfire Dragon-Knights flew in formation. Their shadows moved across rooftops, festival stalls, fountains, and more. Along the upper roosts, other bonded mounts shifted against carved perches, jeweled tack and ceremonial armor catching the morning light while their riders watched the crowds below. The Sunfire Legionnaires stood in ordered ranks beneath the palace walls, armor polished, banners lowered, accompanied by a disciplined silence more solemn than any trumpeted victory psalm. City guards kept watch along the avenues and stairways, their colors less splendid than the Legion’s formal ranks, but no less vigilant as they guided guests, held the crossings, and watched the festival tide move below the palace heights.

Centerra had recently lost its Lord Protector.

The old sovereign had endured for years after wounds taken during the last great crisis beneath the Stellar Convergence, ruling through pain, counsel, and all the stubborn strength of a dying sun. In those final seasons, the burden of governance had fallen more and more often to Matthew of Valendale, Seneschal of Centerra: keeper of seals, schedules, petitions, court orders, ceremonies, and all the meticulous machinery that kept the realm from breaking beneath its own weight. He had been summoned back in recent months by the Lord Protector's bidding, called home from his ambassadorial duties in the deep reaches of Unknown Space. With him had come his own Valendale entourage: sworn retainers, household guards, discreet attendants, and old servants who had followed his house long before the crown ever neared his brow.

He had not asked for the crown, nor did he seek the Lord Protector's favor in earning it... That, perhaps, was why the Council of Elders had chosen him.

Every blooded claimant brought division in their wake, while the ambitious nobles only sharpened the uneasy murmur of the halls. The Crown Council needed continuity, and the Civic Assembly needed a figure the people already knew by deed rather than spectacle. The Order of the Sunstar required a guardian who understood Duty as burden before glory, and the ever-watchful Sunfire Legion, that served beneath the palace steps, required a commander who would not spend lives for vanity.

So the realm had come to witness the naming of a rather reluctant new Lord Protector this day.

The day had brought with it ceremony, feast, festival, pageantry, and politics beneath a gilded sky. Nobles arrived in embroidered silks with honeyed smiles and knives hidden in courtesy. Merchants opened wine casks and spice trays along the processional avenues. Pilgrims carried sun-charms and old prayers. Offworld dignitaries came to be seen. Gossips came to feast upon every tremor in the court.

Today, Matthew of Valendale would be raised from Seneschal to Lord Protector. And Lady Solaria would be named the new Seneschal.

And until the final blessing beneath the Light of Eos, the palace gates stood open, ready to receive guests and festival-goers throughout the day.

Old allies would drink beneath the sun-banners, rivals would weigh one another over crystal cups and sugared fruit, and strangers would wander the festival streets beneath the shadow of dragons while Centerra's bells rang for a coronation few had expected… and fewer still would forget.

---

Player Hooks

Guests may attend as nobles, diplomats, merchants, soldiers, pilgrims, performers, guards, friends of the court, curious offworlders, political opportunists, or honored troublemakers.

This is a social coronation thread. Characters are welcome to mingle, feast, offer congratulations, scheme politely, gossip, dance, negotiate, flirt, argue, observe the ceremony, or simply enjoy the festival atmosphere before Matthew's formal Investiture as Lord Protector.

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

Matthew was uneasy about today… The fact that the final rites would be performed at sunset did little to settle him that morning. He had been away from home for some time, carrying out his ambassadorial duties along the far reach of Unknown Space, and this was not what he had expected when he was summoned back.

He returned with his new charges, Roten and Jackie Rosso , along with their brothers-in-arms: Elias, Severin, Raphael, and Matteo. The Little Lion, the Brawler, the Leader, the Black Sheep, the Pirate Rat, and the Red Rogue; six young lives gathered beneath one uneasy roof.

The Crystal Rose was far too beautiful for the mood that had followed Matthew home. Breakfast trays came silver-lidded from the kitchens: sugared fruit, hot coffee, cinnamon bread, and little dishes of butter carved into roses. Somewhere below, a server laughed while reminding a guest that politeness made the coffee cheaper. Beyond the windows, red rose bushes climbed the estate walls, vineyards combed the hills, and the private arena rested empty beneath its posted rules.

It should have been a place for rest and relaxation.

Instead, every polished mirror and every crystal-bright corner only set him further ill at ease.

It was nearly time for them to leave when he went to fetch his cloak from the soft plush seats surrounding the feast hall, only to find the little Noctua Eos curled up inside it. The creature had made itself a nest of the fine red fabric, its razor-sharp claws already worrying small holes and pulled threads through the weave. Victoria's precious little pet was proving to be a constant thorn in his side where his belongings were concerned.

He had asked all of his charges to meet him in the parlor of the feast hall once they were awake, noting that he had a special task for both Jackie and Roten.

He had little time to scold the Noctua kitten with more than a disapproving look before a discreet summons drew him away. The appointed masters had arrived from the royal workshops, carrying the finished commission beneath a covered case of polished wood and sun-gold clasps.

Whatever irritation had gathered in his face was gone at once.

Matthew left the ruined cloak where it lay, and gave the small creature one last look that promised this was not finished, and stepped out to receive them.

He then went top go see if his two young charges were ready to leave as of yet making his way up stairs and to the guest room they were presently sharing before knocking on the door.

 

[Jackie Rosso]

​

Location: Centerra
Tags: Matthew of Valendale | Roten

---

Jackie was up and getting ready. Throwing on the fine garbs that had been prepared for him to wear this day. Being sure to shoo away any dressers that offered to help him put it on. Jackie could clothe himself well enough he believed he didn’t need assistance with it. Despite that he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in doing so.

Especially since he was having a little bit of trouble figuring out how to properly style these Centerran clothes. “Cumberbunds are supposed to be like this aren’t they?” He asked, mostly to himself as he tucked half of it into his pants. “...No that’s not right…” The zeltron let out an annoyed sigh before fixing it.

“You know I expected Master to be a bit more, uh, happy coming back to his home here. But I’ve been getting the feeling that he’s upset or unnerved about something.” Jackie remarked to Roten as he tried to finish dressing himself. His unrefined empathic senses picked up a little of Matthew’s inner concerns. “Well I’m gonna go head to the Parlor now. Wouldn’t wanna keep them waiting on a day like this.” He said before making his way to the door of the guest room. Opening it he was greeted with the imposing image of their winged master already there.

The zeltron’s blue eyes widened some and his torso leaned back as he looked up at Matthew. “M-master?” He stuttered slightly just from being caught off guard a little. “I hope we’re not too late, I was just about to head to the parlor now.”​

 

[Roten]

Centerra
Tags: Jackie Rosso , Matthew of Valendale

Kiba no Shimai​

“You know I expected Master to be a bit more, uh, happy coming back to his home here. But I’ve been getting the feeling that he’s upset or unnerved about something.” Jackie remarked to Roten as he tried to finish dressing himself.

"We're talking about being given the reins of a planet the size of a star," Roten muttered as he fussed with his clothes. "Ignoring the political nightmare you're inevitably in for, it only takes a couple politicians to be a thorn in your side. It's like walking on feth'n razor blades."

Roten had no interest in such things himself. He was only here because Matthew asked him to be, and he was always sure to make good on anything he requested. He owed him that much. Surprisingly, Roten wore his nice clothes quite comfortably. Or, at least, he wore a good poker face as he straightened out his posture and walked a little taller. Jackie would go to answer the knock at the door, to which Matthew was there.

Which meant there was something specific he wanted to talk about. It always did.

"Just here to walk us to the parlor, boss?" the Bursantian asked.

 

[Matthew of Valendale]

Jackie Rosso Roten

“M-master?” He stuttered slightly just from being caught off guard a little. “I hope we’re not too late, I was just about to head to the parlor now.”

Matthew offered the young man a gentle smile.

"You're not late at all… We have plenty of time today," he reassured him. His gaze lowered briefly to the uneven waistband accent piece, and he resisted the urge to simply reach out and set it right himself. "Do you want me to help you straighten that out?"

"Just here to walk us to the parlor, boss?"

"Yes and no…" Matthew began, before offering a large, ornate key to Roten.

"I have a very important task for the two of you," Matthew said.

To Jackie, he offered a small wooden chest, fitted with an ornate lock and handles on either side. The wood had been polished smooth and its corners reinforced with dark metalwork.

"I need each of you to keep these safe. I will have use of them later today, and you will be called upon when they are of need."

He left the matter there, with no explanation for what the chest held, although it was quite obvious that the key belongs to this chest as they held matching motifs.

"Raphael is finishing tacking up one of the Dragons for the two of you to ride together, We will depart soon so if you wish to ride with the Wing then I suggest you come down stairs sooner than later." Matthew explained. "Matteo, Elias, Severin, and Navarre have all been entrusted with different items as well. To Elias, I have entrusted the chains and my cloak clasps. To Severin, I have given the burden of serving as my shield-bearer. Matteo will carry my blade and scabbard and Navarre has been given my regalia in the form of a cloak. Raphael has been tasked with the charge of the full armor itself, comprised of the helm, breastplate, gauntlets, greaves, and the other fitted plates and mail sets."

His gaze moved from the chest to the key, then back to the two boys before him.

"Each of you has been entrusted with something I will need later today," he continued. "I chose the hands for each task carefully."

His voice remained gentle, leaving them room to refuse if the task felt too heavy. He did not press the weight of it onto them, but the care in the way he had given the key and chest said enough. The trust was plain between them, brighter than any explanation he could have offered.

Matthew had indeed chosen each of them with care, not because the task suited what they had once been, but because it spoke to what he believed they might yet become.

Jackie had been given the chest because he knew the old hunger of wanting what was not his, and Matthew wished to place something precious in his hands without suspicion trailing after it like a chain. Roten had been given the key because access was its own temptation, and Honor meant little if it was never asked to stand before a locked door. Together, the former 'thieves' held the crown between them: one with the treasure, one with the means to reach it, neither whole without the other's trust.

Elias had been given the chains and cloak clasps because small things were so often mistaken for lesser things. He was the smallest of his charges. A clasp could vanish into a pocket, fall between floorboards, or be forgotten beneath finer pieces, yet without it, regalia failed to sit properly upon the shoulders.

Matthew wanted the Little Lion to understand that Courage was not always a raised blade or a shouted charge; sometimes it was the keeping of something fragile because no one else thought to look twice.

Severin had been made his shield-bearer because the boy knew how to meet the world with his fists. Matthew did not wish to shame that strength from him, only turn it toward shelter rather than collision. A shield was not often seen as a weapon first... It asked for patience, stance, endurance, and the willingness to take weight meant for someone else.

Matteo had been entrusted with the sword because Justice in an arrogant hand could become punishment too easily. The blade was ceremony, authority, and danger, all wrapped in one long line of metal. Matthew trusted him with it because trust was sometimes the only way to teach restraint; Matteo would have to carry judgment without mistaking himself for its master.

Navarre had been given the cloak because regalia was not only ornament. It was what the crowd saw before they saw the man beneath it. The cloak carried public expectation, dignity, and the quiet burden of being looked upon. For a prince, especially one still learning the depth of his own courage, there was meaning in bearing the visible weight of another's station without being swallowed by it.

Raphael had been tasked with the armor because he was the eldest, and because he already carried himself like someone bracing for the burdens others missed. Helm, breastplate, gauntlets, greaves, fitted plates, and mail: all the pieces meant to protect a body from harm. Matthew placed them in Raphael's care because leadership was often less about command than keeping track of every piece that allowed someone else to stand whole before the world.

"This is not an easy task, and it holds the highest of responsibilities of all the tasks. " Matthew said. "I am asking this of you because I believe you are capable of it. You need only keep them safe, and keep them together. Can I rely on you two to carry this out for the day?"

Of all those named there was one new name neither Jackie nor Roten was familiar; Navarre .