199th of Nemulum, 199 CE
Castle Umbreanu, Athal
“Are you sure of this?” Grigor turned to his siblings, “There are other ways, less public. We don’t know how they’re going to react.”
“This is the way.” Sophia had pinned herself up, looking more like a queen than she ever had before.
“There is a need to set things to rights.” Radu, equally adorned in sharp fashion, agreed.
“Right then.” Grigor clutched the letter in his hands, and he pushed open the grand doors of the audience chamber to allow the queen and king to pass into the light.
To his backdrop he heard the calls of the undulating masses, their distresses and their disarray. Their anxiety over the insecurity they had lived in for so long, this existence bound to the crown, it was palpable. They were long in the tooth, and many of their leaders had fled from the hollow stagnation they now lived under. They were a disoriented people, most of all, and so it had fallen to Grigor’s charge to impart on them some truth.
“My fellow countrymen!” Sophia called, and the crowd listened. “On this eve of the dawning of a new century we have come to you with glad tidings.”
“Today,” Radu began, circling his sister, “We stand before you not as rulers, but as humble servants of the realm.”
“For centuries,” Sophia picked the thread, “the belief in our divine right to rule has been deeply ingrained in the fabric of our society. We were taught from birth that the Ranavar bloodline was chosen above all others, man and god and destiny alike, to lead with wisdom and benevolence. However, recent revelations have shattered this illusion, revealing a truth that cannot be ignored.”
Watching the crowd, Grigor felt their collective energy like a wave. He realized then that they were not disarrayed, not some hopeless rabble. He could watch the way they grouped and gathered, the way that they gravitated towards some and away from others. He understood now.
He took a confident step forwards across the dais, clearing his throat as he did. He raised the letter that had been sought to him, that all might see.
“I read now from the pen of Miacyne Ranavar, consort and partner to our founding King Llywelyn Ranavar.” Grigor began to read the letter in earnest with a voice of pride.
“It is with a heavy heart and a clear mind that I have drafted this letter, over the course of my lifetime. It is one that I have written and rewritten every day, knowing beyond all doubt that its prose must be perfect, for if it falls short grave consequences may befall us all. Now though, on my dying day, I still do not believe that I have found exactly how to get it out and so you must forgive me my lack of charm as I hope you reader will forgive us all.”
“There are no kings in Ranavar. There never were, in the time of the Evenfall or in any other. Before this world, our families were common soldiers in the wars of gods we can no longer recall. We deserted, fled to the abandoned Castle Umbreanu to live out what we thought would be the final days. When we emerged into the new prime material planes, the only survivors in a castle magically restored to magnificence, there were those in our family who thought it an opportunity to weave a tale of who and what our family was.”
“I will say it now, as it should have been said from the start. The divine right is nothing more than a charade, a deception orchestrated by Llywelyn to solidify his grasp on power. The very foundation upon which our reign was built is false, a mockery of justice and truth.”
“I loved Llywelyn, I loved him more than life itself, and for that love and his legacy I have been silent all these years. But I have driven myself mad with the secrecy he put on us all.”
“To my son, Micai, who I hope one day will find this. We cannot, in good conscience, continue to sit thrones built upon lies and deceit. The people of this kingdom deserve better – they deserve leaders who are honest, transparent, and accountable to their will.”
“Signed, Miacyne Ranavar.”
The revelation had stunned the crowd to silence.
Radu and Sophia stepped up to either side of Grigor, pillars of support.
“On this knowledge,” Sophia squeezed her brother’s hand, “We hereby abdicate the throne and renounce any claims to authority over this kingdom. In doing so, we pave the way for a new era of governance, one where the voice of the people reigns supreme.”
Radu took the next call, as the crowd started up again. “We understand that this transition will not be without challenges. There will be uncertainties and obstacles along the way. But we have faith in the resilience and strength of our people. Together, we shall forge a brighter future, one built upon principles of justice, equality, and freedom.”
With that, they began to step down. They joined the crowd, and pushed through it, ready to break free from the bonds they had been put under since long before their birth. They would leave the name Ranavar behind, cloaking themselves instead the moniker Umbreanu after the castle that had kept the truth for them. They would move out towards adventure, leaving Kesserine and the High Arborway to the people’s eye. It would be well.
Grigor’s mind raced, in those final steps, amazed that it had all come to pass. He searched, and searched, and searched for something to say as he made that exit alongside his siblings. All filled up with a buzzing energy, he felt himself burst out. “Long live the people, long live the kingdom!”
And at last that call to the truth of the Kingdom of Ranavar was carried on, the seed of a budding new world.
The Etra Anthology 