Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate…unfortunately…
Chapter 2: 30 Eleint 1345 The Feast of Highharvestide 41st year of the reign of King Bartimaeus IV of Amn
The whole of Impernium, indeed the whole of Amn, was abuzz in preparation for the dedication of the infant prince Alexander to the Over-Father Ao, just as every royal child was. He was also to be dedicated to Helm, the royal family's patron god, whom the little child was named in honor of.
As the feast of Highharvestide, it was a day of celebration in its own right, the day when the people throughout Faerun would revel in the fruits of their labors over the past year. However, today also being the day of the young prince's dedication, there were no holds barred. With the fountains were flowing with the best of wines, colorful streamers were hanging from the buildings, the taverns were offering the best from their taps free of charge, while countless masques and balls were set to begin come sundown and minstrels could be heard on every street corner singing ballads in honor of the most virtuous royal couple and, of course, their beloved new prince Alexander. Everyone was in a celebratory mood, greeting both friends and strangers alike in the streets. None could wait for when the procession would begin in which the royal couple would travel to the far reaches of their kingdom to show the new prince to the eager citizenry of Amn. To top it all off, it was a beautiful fall day, the trees brilliant with colors and the sun shone warm in the sky, as if the gods themselves smiled down upon them.
None of this escaped a little boy who stood outside the castle at Impernium. The court was abuzz with preparation for the ceremony and he had come outside to be out of the way. He merely stood in a warm patch of sunlight and looked around him, taking everything in with his sky blue eyes. All the excitement, the energy, the people, he couldn't wait until he could be free to experience all of it for himself. Already, he had been told that there was to be a masque at court this evening to be performed for the new prince and they had wanted him to be in it! His face was flushed with excitement at the thought, and also…well also perhaps a little bit due to the fact that he had partaken in some of the endless rivers of wine that had been flowing freely for all to partake in. His overlord had grudgingly allowed for him to have some.
"Ah, here you are Cary. Quite exciting isn't." came a voice.
The boy looked up and saw a young man standing beside him gazing toward the city beyond the courtyard as well.
"Indeed Prince Caldaron." He said, not without a touch of awe in his voice. "I've never seen anything back home to equal this!"
"Hrmph." The prince said, "We have had equally glorious celebrations in the past, it isn't every day that a prince is born, you know. You came to court shortly after the celebrations that we held after my brother was born."
"It'll be hard to go back to Tethyr after this."
"Oh come on now Cary, my court isn't that bad now is it?"
"No sir, it's just that…well…all of this…it's just…"
"Amazing. Yes, I know, the courts of Amn are known for their opulence, a level of which I can't say that I would ever adopt for my own. But, yes, I remember when I first came here; I was about your age. I recall being amazed by it all just as you are." The young man smiled at the memory. "I hear that you will be in the royal masque this evening…you will be young Amaunator, will you not?"
"Indeed, I can't wait!" the young boy said a tremor of childish excitement coursing through him at the thought.
Prince Caldaron laughed, "I can see how they would chose you for young Amaunator, golden and filled with vivacity and life, filled with the joy of being young and alive." He said, ruffling the boy's golden blonde hair.
They merely stood there in silence for a moment longer until they heard a call.
"Caradoc! Do you want to see the young prince?"
It was the king, in all of his ermine, bejeweled finery, puffed up like a peacock. At his side stood the queen and a number of attendants and there, just barely viewable due to the small crowd surrounding it, was the bassinet holding the young prince.
"Would I?" he yelled back, and immediately began to run over to see, leaving Prince Caldaron standing alone, shaking his head, with a smile on his face in reaction to the young boy's eagerness. As the boy came to the royal assemblage, he stopped and elegantly bowed to the king and queen.
"Come, come, rise, rise, good Lord Caradoc, no need for such formalities here at this quaint family gathering."
He couldn't help but laugh at that, 'quaint indeed' he thought. "Then with all proper respect, your highness, if it pleases you, please just call me Caradoc, or Cary, everyone else does."
"It does Cary, it does please me." The king said jovially, placing a jeweled hand upon the boy's shoulder. "I have heard many good things about you from Caldaron, my boy, many good things!"
"Thank you your highness." The boy said near to bursting with pride.
"Come now, call me Bart, everyone here does. Ah, but I see that unsettles you, perhaps a simple sir would have to suffice then."
"Very well sir."
The king then saw Prince Caldaron approaching the group and called out,
"You've taught this boy well Caldaron, very well indeed!"
"Yes, I suppose I have, but much of it is innate, I'm afraid I can't take credit for all of it."
"Indeed."
"May I go see the prince now sir?" Caldaron asked.
"Oh, of course, of course, sorry for keeping you, Cary, go right ahead."
Right before he was about to go over to the bassinet, a shrill wail pierced the air.
"Oh dear," the queen said. "Alex has been so fussy today, must be all the people and excitement, he's not use to it I'm afraid, let me go take care of…" the crying had immediately ceased. And instead they heard a light cooing. They all stood there amazed, almost nothing could calm the young prince once he began to cry, and yet he had, so suddenly too. They all looked over at the bassinet and saw the young prince laughing and wriggling his tiny arms and legs. At the bassinet, stood Caradoc, looking down at the little prince, smiling at the little baby's obvious, yet unexplainable, joy at his presence.
"How did you manage that?" asked the king.
"What?"
"Calm him down like that. Hardly anything ever seems to work once he gets going, nothing except hours of endless rocking and singing." Said the queen, with a tired look on her face, even with servants, it had been a long few weeks.
"I didn't do anything, I just went over to take a look at him and he just, immediately stopped crying."
"Curious. My boy, come over here for a moment, if you would." The king said, and as soon as he did, the little prince began to cry again.
"Now go back over there."
He did so, and the prince immediately stopped crying.
"Sir…" Caradoc ventured cautiously, "Could I, carefully, of course, hold the prince?"
"Go right ahead Cary, don't worry about breaking him, babies are quite indestructible, contrary to popular belief. "
Despite what the king said, Caradoc very carefully, almost gingerly, picked up the squealing baby prince.
Seeing the boy gently cradling the baby in his arms made Caldaron smile. If only he had a way to save that moment forever.
"Ow!" Caradoc protested and everyone turned to see that the prince had grabbed a fistful of Caradoc's golden tresses in his pudgy little hand. Little Alexander giggled with mirth, oblivious to or because of Caradoc's discomfort, the older boy couldn't be sure. He gently tried to free his hair from the prince's grip, but soon discovered, with some disconcertion, that the little prince's grasp was extremely tight and he abandoned his efforts to release his hair lest he accidentally hurt the little boy.
"Must be those golden locks of yours, Cary." The king said laughing. "Nobody's got that color around here."
Somehow, Caradoc was able to free his hair. He then took out a dagger that had been hanging from his belt, cut off a small lock of his hair and offered it to the baby, who gladly grabbed it in his little fist and giggled, waving it around. Caradoc couldn't help but to laugh too.
"You can keep it my prince, call it a gift."
In answer, Alexander blew spit bubbles and laughed.
"Think nothing of it." the older boy said.
"Well, everyone, I think it is time to get little Alex here ready for the ceremony." said the queen. Caradoc then handed her the baby who looked at him with a look of concern on his face and then, looking at the little lock of hair still tight in his grasp, he wriggled his arm happily and cooed. And at that the entourage left to prepare for the coming dedication ceremony.
Kidrial quietly surveyed the scene before him, all the excitement and attention to the little prince; he couldn't help but sneer to himself at the thought of it. It wasn't that the crown prince was jealous of the attention being afforded the little baby, no, he was a grown man of twenty-eight years of age. It wasn't that at all. It was just that, well, he knew his father the king to be…past his peak when it came to siring children. Sure the queen was young, but no, the king had been a spent wick for years. And only yesterday he had caught the queen and this Sir Cole in a passionate embrace. It sickened him to no end. There was no doubt in his mind who the father of the prince was. It was Sir Cole. The prince was nothing but the bastard son of a trumped up peasant girl and her trumped up peasant lover, there was likely not a single drop of royal blood flowing through the boy's veins and yet that old coot of a king acted as if nothing were amiss. And, to top it all off, he was named one of the prince's 'god-fathers', so to speak, along with prince Caldaron of Tethyr who was standing in the place of his aging, gout-ridden father, who was deemed unable to make the arduous journey.
'Prince Caldaron.' Kidrial thought bitterly. 'He looks upon us with scorn, regardless of how chummy he may be with my father. He frowns upon our 'ostentatious display of wealth''. Well, in Kidrial's mind, Caldaron, well, he was a miser, a self-righteous paladin, known throughout his homeland and beyond for his noble and heroic deeds. It didn't make him dislike the copper haired man any less. Oh how he dreaded to be in the same room as him, to be in the same ceremony with him would be torture, pure and simple.
Despite all of his bitterness, he couldn't say that he disliked his 'brother'. Truth be known, he had always wanted a little brother or sister and this little Alexander that they fawned over was a very cute little baby with a pleasant disposition. The boy seemed to like him too. He always seemed to be happy when Kidrial was with him, and once he even fell asleep in his arms. Kidrial had heard talk that the boy that had come with Caldaron, what was his name? Ah yes, young Caradoc, a veritable wonder that kid, could make the baby prince stop crying just by looking at him, if what the people roundabouts said was true, nothing could get the prince quiet once he was fussy like he had been all day, yet the boy had been cheerful for over an hour now while preparations had been going on for the dedication ceremony, a lock of sun-gold hair clenched in his tiny little fist. Strange…well, kids were strange little beings.
"My lord, are you ready for the ceremony?" asked an attendant.
"Yes, of course, let us go. Is everything ready?"
"Yes my lord."
"Very well," he took a breath, "let's be off then."
The majestic royal temple of Ao was full to bursting as the ceremony was about to begin. Prince Caldaron looked around him. So many people…the first few rows were filled with Amnish royalty and nobles, while an untold number of commoners jostled around, eager to get their first glimpse of the baby prince. Caldaron quickly looked for his young ward, ah; there he was, in the front row, an honor given to him as the charge of the prince of Tethyr. From where Caldaron stood, he saw the boy chatting with one of the nobles. He couldn't help but smile when looking at the young boy.
Indeed, Caradoc had made him very proud. He had come along with him as a reward for his outstanding performance in training and to show him more of the world, the boy had seen very little of it in his ten years of life outside of the Tethyrian capital of Zazesspur and his own little cloistered community of Candlekeep. Aside from that, he also brought the boy along at the behest of King Bartimaeus, who had heard much of the boy's prowess. His strength and skill with a sword was quite, no, very outstanding, he was practically a prodigy in that respect and, Caldaron was pleased to find out early in his acquaintance with the boy, that he had a bright soul, and he had been thrilled to take him on as his charge and train him to become a paladin. The king had been amazed by the boy's show of skill and had taken a real liking to him, everyone had.
It was Caldaron's hope to get the boy into the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, an order of paladins and knights from all throughout Faerun who dedicated their lives to the eradication of evil where ever it was found. He was sure the boy would make a fine addition when he came of age.
He was drawn away from his musings when he heard a voice from behind him.
"Caldaron, if you are ready, we are about to begin."
Though the voice was not unfriendly, he couldn't help but to have a vague feeling of distaste upon hearing the voice.
He turned around to see cold green eyes.
"Ah, Kidrial, yes I am ready." He responded. "Look around. Such a joyous occasion, such a rare event, the birth of a prince, you must be very happy to have a little brother." He said, looking out upon the crowd.
The other man gave a grunt. "Hrmph. I suppose so."
Then a gust of wind came through the open door of the temple, wafting the smell of the peasants towards them.
"Ugh," Kidrial said in distaste, "Those commoners… I don't see why my father is so fond of them, allowing them to come to such a celebration as this, their appearance here is hardly fitting for the occasion, best that they be kept in their place. Or, by the gods, at least made to bathe first. "
Caldaron looked at the young man with secret distaste. What had happened to him? Caldaron remembered visiting in the past, indeed, he remembered, however faintly, coming to Kidrial's blessing celebration as a very young child. As a youngster, Kidrial had been a charming little boy, quiet and proper, but charming and good-natured as well. Just like his mother had been. Indeed, Kidrial very closely resembled his mother, Yamilet. He had her mass of curly dark hair, her green eyes, her high cheekbones and lean frame. Indeed, he was his mother's child, and he had loved her dearly. From whence came this change in him? Caldaron couldn't help but ponder over that. That, that coldness that he saw in those green eyes of his, it had not always been there. Then he thought, perhaps it had been the death of his mother all those years ago when Kidrial had been a young boy, not much older than Caradoc was now. Of everyone, Kidrial had loved his mother the most; her death must have crushed him. Caldaron looked back on that time. Yamilet had been pregnant and while she and the king and prince were out on an excursion somewhere, the queen had gone into labor two months early and without a royal physician nearby, the king had called for a midwife from the nearest town. However, despite the midwife's best efforts, the long, painful labor had resulted in a still birth and Yamilet dying.
Caldaron remembered how shortly after that, King Bartimaeus sank into deep mourning and cut off communication with everyone outside his kingdom, then, months later, he took up an aggressive military campaign that lasted for years before he finally came to terms with his grief and found Morwen, the present queen. Had Kidrial come to terms with his grief? Somehow Caldaron doubted it, Bartimaeus probably didn't share his grief with his young son and the boy had no outlet for it and he bottled it up inside himself, had festered, turning him bitter and cold. These recent events were sending the young man for a loop, Caldaron mused. Hopefully he would be able to be softened by his baby brother. Caldaron briefly thought about his own kid brother Cordero, born roughly twenty-three years after him. Cordero was such a sweet little innocent boy, the apple of his eye, his name, meaning lamb fit the young boy very well. Thinking on all this made his heart soften. He then said to Kidrial,
"Oh, look!" he said, indicating the door at the other side of the temple, "They are waiting for us, we shouldn't leave them waiting."
"No, indeed not." Replied Kidrial as they both turned and headed over to the king, queen, baby prince, and priest.
After the priest made the preliminary offerings to the gods and blessed all those gathered the ceremony was ready to begin.
"People of Amn!" he announced to the crowd. "It is my great honor to present to you this day your new prince, the son of their most majestic highnesses King Bartimaeus and Queen Morwen. Prince Alexander!"
The whole crowd erupted into cheers at the announcement, so loud so as to be a deafening roar.
"And here today to present him to you and to witness his dedication to Ao and Helm are his Highness King Bartimaeus, her Majesty Queen Morwen, and their Highnesses Prince Kidrial and Prince Caldaron of Tethyr!"
Many in the crowd gasped at the list of such august personages. And as the group of royals processed to the front of the temple to the altar, lead by the king who carried the baby in its ornate ceremonial garb, everyone in the building, nobles and peasants alike, bowed low, rising only when the group had reached where the priest stood and the king, in a jovial voice, bid them rise.
Then, the king passed the baby over to Kidrial and the priest continued with the ceremony.
"Today good people of Amn, Prince Alexander is to be dedicated to the great Over-Father Ao, to become a member of the universal church of the great One. First he is to be anointed with these sacred chrisms, marked with the sign of Ao to mark him as a child of Ao."
He then took the two chrisms, one white and one red and laced them together in an interlacing pattern upon the boy's forehead, symbolizing the balance between order and chaos that Ao protected. He gave a small smirk as he saw the baby made himself go cross-eyed as he tried to see what the priest was putting on his forehead on a spot right between his eyes.
"Now he is to be purified of the evil of this, this holy water as well as the chrism with which he has been anointed will act as a shield to safeguard his soul from such evils as he may confront in this world."
Kidrial then brought Alexander, with Caldaron following, over to the holy font. Kidrial then held his little brother so that his head was above the font and then the priest took a small cup, filled it with water from the font and then gently poured it over the baby's head, and Alexander immediately let out a loud squall. Not in pain or anything, but rather, it was an imperious squall, as though he were saying, "Hey! I did not say that you could pour that water over my head!" Then, believing he had made his point, he quieted once more.
At this, the crowd let out a cheer, that cry was an unofficial end to that part of the ceremony. It was said that if the child were to give out a loud cry as it was being purified with holy water as it was a sign that the child had strong lungs, which if Alexander's cry was any indication, his were very strong indeed. In days long since passed, the cry was thought to be the cry of the demons and other evil spirits as they fled from the child's soul.
Then, after the priest had dried off the baby's head, Kidrial handed Alexander to Caldaron for the second part of the ceremony. Next he was to be dedicated to the watcher god Helm and was therefore to be presented to an elite priest of Helm, part of the upper echelon of the deity's servants who, it was said, were privy to their deity's will and mind more than most, if the legends were true. Also, they were famous for their mastery of the ancient language of the very first members of the priesthood of the Watcher a time long since forgotten. It was said that the ancient language was taught to them by Helm himself. Now it was only spoken by very few, but even the lowliest priest of Helm spoke a variation of the language in special ceremonies as well as in incantations.
Caldaron quickly glanced around the altar. He didn't see the Helmite priest that was to perform the next portion of the ceremony, for that matter, he mused; he didn't even remember seeing a Helmite in the procession into the temple.
He wondered what he was going to do without a priest when, seemingly out of the shadows, emerged a white robed priest with the sky-blue ever-watching eye of Helm embroidered in the front. The hood of his robe was over his face, casting a shadow over his features. A warm smile was upon his face, which was clean shaven and sported the early signs of jowls. Caldaron was surprised that he hadn't seen the man before, he certainly wasn't a small man, standing roughly six feet tall, and was a large corporeal man, fat wasn't the right word, but rather big, stocky, heavily muscled but becoming a bit soft with the passage of years.
Caldaron knelt on one knee before the priest; head bowed reverently, and held out the young prince. Upon seeing the young prince, his expression softened, tears glistening in his eyes, turning them sapphire blue. He gently, reverently, picked up the baby and held it in his arms. Young Alexander cooed and gurgled with glee which brought forth a hearty laugh from the Helmite. Caldaron, who had slowly risen, looked on at the scene before him. The priest was so paternal, so jolly, proud, in a joyous mood as though the child were his own flesh and blood, the prince seemed to be enjoying himself immensely too.
Then, the priest began with his portion of the ceremony, the dedication of the baby prince to the watcher god Helm. Slowly, reverently, almost with a touch of awe, he began intoning the ancient incantation, in a language just as ancient.
"Возљубени на детето мое, ти на моето тело и коски, како блажени вашите родители да се создаде таква е како тебе. Гледај на мене детето во вашата потреба за никогаш нема да се откаже од тебе, Александар Велики, заштитникот на човештвото. Растат силен и мудар. Од овој ден, издаде, ти се посветени на мене, Helm, на набљудувач и бранителот. Секогаш може да ме како горди како што овој ден, слава и себеси и во сите Amn ли."
The whole assemblage watched on, transfixed to the scene. It mattered not that they knew very little of the ancient language that the Helmite was speaking, indeed, the mysterious words added to the glory of it all, in their eyes. When the man took a pause one could hear a pin drop, and he smiled as he saw their excited, amazed faces. Then, in the common tongue, he proclaimed,
"Prince Alexander is now dedicated to Helm, the eternal watcher. The Watcher is pleased and extends his blessing and protection to all gathered on this most joyous of days! Here I present to you, your prince, Alexander, beloved one of Ao the Over-Father and Helm the Watcher!" At the last, he held the infant aloft and the entire temple erupted with cheers, his eyes beaming at their exuberance as well as the baby's gleeful giggles and squirms.
After the cheering had calmed down, the king slowly walked up to the altar with the queen at his side, followed by Prince Kidrial and Prince Caldaron. The priest handed the infant prince to the king, bestowed one final blessing upon the royal assemblage and to great applause and fanfare, they proceeded out of the room leaving the priest behind to give blessings to the people.
A/N: Thank you again for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please leave a review. If you hated it then keep it to yourself! JK! That's ok too, just please, no flames! Thanks!