In another place, and another time, Pengallia was undergoing the first ritual of investiture. She lay in the centre of the Infinity Chamber, at the very heart of the Temple of Eternity. As priests milled around her, making her ready, she stared up at the great holographic orrery, which circled overhead. Within it, the twin suns of Kasterborus, one large and yellow, the other small and red, danced around each other as they had for the last five billion years.
Within the ritual, the orrery served to tell the future Queen of her place in the universe. At a safe distance, the five planets joined the cosmic dance. Closest to the twins sat Kaster, which lay just a hundred million kilometres from the mid-point between the suns.
At a hundred and fifty million kilometres, where Gallifrey, second of the five planets, should have been, there was nothing. The Time Lords had changed the nature of the universe when the time wars began, desperate to save themselves from the ravages of history. In this regard, the orrery served not just a navigational function, but also a political one. Rendulix, the homeworld, as it was also known, had entered into the realm of legends.
Demos, the world on which Pengallia had been born, and where she now lay awaiting royal ascension, orbited at a distance of roughly two hundred million kilometres. Six thousand miles in diameter and circled by three small moons, Bern, Falin, and Kirros.
At a distance of almost eight hundred million kilometres lay Polarfrey, the White Giant, the coldest and brightest planet in the sky.
Out beyond Polarfrey, the great ice ring circled the system, and beyond that lay the smallest and remotest of the five planets, Karn, the dark sister. It was a world well known to Pengallia, who had lived there most of her adult life, renouncing her position within the Sisterhood of the Flame to return and claim the Royal Crown.
Some three billion kilometres beyond the centre of the system, Karn was lit by a strange and magical phenomenon. This light, known as the Great Veil or the Kasterborus Borealis, bounded the outer edges of the system and, in ancient times, had been regarded as the great barrier beyond which the rest of the universe lay.
The image of the borealis almost touched the walls of the chamber, its light illuminating the ancient inscriptions carved by the priests of past generations, servants and advocates to the legendary Kings and Queens of Demos.
Beneath the orrery, a pair of mirror-masked priests attended Pengallia. One wore shimmering robes that reflected the colours of a rainbow, and the other dressed in shifting shades of silver and grey. They symbolised the gods Cacophony, bringer of chaos, and Time, giver of order. She lay, naked, upon a raised diorite plinth, her pale flesh reflecting the light of a dozen flickering torches, which lined the chamber. Forming a circle around her, five other masked priests stood silently, observing in silence as the ritual progressed. Each wore the livery of a different god, black for Eternity, gold for Light, green for Life, crimson for Pain, and purple for Distraction.
On each side of Pengallia's head lay a bowl containing oils and unguents prepared for her annointment. Using ladles, Cacophony and Time gently poured the salve over her naked body, applying it from head to toe. The carefully massaged and kneaded them into her skin, ritually purged her ephemeral nature, remoulding her in the image of the gods themselves, opening her energy centres and changing her perception of reality as the mixture soaked into her pores.
Next came the ritual garments. The two priests clothed her in a long jewel-encrusted silk dress of heliotrope and antimony. This was followed by a jointed silver breastplate adorned with the hounds rampant, the same as has once been worn by the ancient Kings and Queens of Demos. The hounds had been adopted as the totem of her forefathers, and Pengallia remembered the tale of Dvora, the greatest warrior-king in Demosian history, and of his legendary encounter with the devouring hounds. She also remembered that the story must be re-enacted by each newly crowned King or Queen as the final test of their legitimacy. It was a challenge she had yet to face.
At this point, all seven priests joined the ritual, slipping placed silver bracelets on her wrists and upper arms, fastening intricate chains and brooches to her robes, and an ornate collar, encrusted with finely engraved sapphires and diamonds, round her neck. Finally, they attached silver greaves to her ankles, and slipped a pair of jewelled sandals on her feet.
"Are you ready to embrace your responsibilities?" asked Cacophony.
"I am."
Five god-priests stepped back, leaving Cacophony and Time to raise Pengallia up and lead her into another chamber. It was a larger room, prepared for the audience of senior aristocrats and court officials who already filled its tiered galleries. At the heart of the chamber stood a great throne. Carved from similar black diorite to the plinth in the Infinity Chamber, but etched with ancient images and symbols, and inlaid with precious metals which picked out the details. The sashes of office lay on a raised stone table beside the throne.
Between Pengallia and the throne stood an eighth masked god-priest wearing the white livery of Death. Stepping aside, Time allowed the god-sisters Cacophony and Death to hug, greeting each other as a reminder that, in spite of their history of conflict, the principles that the gods represented would have to be embodied in a single vessel: the Silver Queen.
Time escorted Pengallia to the throne, gesturing for her to be seated before standing to her right. Cacophony and Death moved to her left, where the sashes lay.
Cacophony raised the silver sash of Demos, interlaced with dragon motifs that encircled the seals of Demos and Dvora, and placed it over Pengallia' head. Death overlaid it with the golden sash of Rendulix, similarly interlaced with ancient Gallifreyan scrollwork around the seals of Patrex and Rassilon. The symbolic union of the four seals was quickly made reality as a dull burst of white light flared and the sashes made contact with each other. Physically merging into a single object, the combined sash represented the bond between the two worlds.
"The Traditions of State and Empire are embodied within you," declared Time. "You are ready to rule the third world and unify the five. You will be the fire reeds of Demos and the crucible of Rendulix; your will shall make the Empire safe."
"You alone will be able to separate the Double Sash," revealed Death.
"But to break it is to renounce destiny itself."
Cacophony and Death bestowed Pengallia with the symbols of her power, the staff and the twin swords. The staff, once a relic of the great Pythias of Gallifrey, was called 'Apothelis'. Its purpose was to heal, and it was a symbol of peace and diplomatic resolution. The swords, 'Mershas' and 'Shermas', had once belonged to King Dvora himself. Their purpose was to unify through strength, and as such they had come to symbolise the fierce spirit of Demos, the only world to have joined the Gallifreyan Empire on its own terms, as an ally rather than a subject world.
"It is time," said Time.
The eight god-priests formed a line around Pengallia, leading her in a procession from the temple chambers along a narrow corridor. Within a dozen metres she had stepped out into the light.
Beyond the Temple of Eternity was a huge inner courtyard surrounded by high walls and towers. It was filled with acolytes from several priestly orders including Bukolians, Dromeians, Eremites, Felsecans, and, of course, Madronites. In front of them, the privileged few invited to pass beyond the temple gates were gathered. Friends, peers, and diplomats cheered as the procession appeared, making its way towards a specially prepared platform. Hovering above the crowds, was a cluster of spherical tridee cameras, adjusting their relative positions to get the best images, recording the event for posterity, and for the greater glory of the public access channels.
Beyond the gates stood the serried ranks of the Time Battalions, resplendent in their bright cloaks and glittering battlesuits, the last buffer between the Silver Queen and her subjects, who formed a great and noisy crowd in the distance. Overshadowing the event, under the great white shadow of the real Polarfrey, the Demosian Battlefleets lined the sky, row upon row of Class Four Lancers publicly parading their martial strength.
Crossing the courtyard, Pengallia was led to a raised dais where a second throne awaited her. It was a simpler affair, sturdily built from imported cadonwood, modestly coated with metallic silver paint: Dvora's throne, that which the ancient King had used for official ceremonies. Waiting at its right hand side stood Pengallia's appointed counsel, Teyamat of Karn. Despite her youth, Teyamat had been initiated as a High Priestess of the Sisterhood, and her role within the ceremony was to ensure that Pengallia's reign was legitimate in the eyes of those who followed the old ways. She gave a low bow as her new mistress came closer.
"May your Majesty rise like the morning suns and take her place at the seat of power."
Nodding in acknowledgement, Pengallia took to the throne as the god-priests of the menti celesti formed a crescent circle behind her. Above them, the tridee spheres jostled for the best vantagepoint, while Teyamat produced a small metal box.
"This is the testament of the gods given to the Dvora. As it legitimised his reign, so it will yours, so will it your successor's." Teyamat carefully opened the box, and lifted out an ancient scroll written in the 21st Pythia's own hand, at the dawn of civilisation, declaring Dvora to be the heir to Demos.
Pengallia accepted the scroll, with a bow of her own.
"Here," continued Teyamat, passing over the short silver rod which bore Pengallia's royal seal, "are your thirteen sovereign titles. Majestrix of Demos, Beloved of Eternity, Fist of Rassilon, Exarch of Madron, Kithriarch of Dvora, Protector of the Empire, Steward of the Five Planets, She-Who-Binds-and-Conquers, Grand Marshall of the Imperial Time Battalions, Chosen of the Menti Celesti, Powerful in Her Rule, Great in Her Counsel, Pengalliadvoramiel: The Silver Queen."
Cheering rose from beyond the temple courtyard as Pengallia accepted the rod.
"And here," said Teyamat, revealing a slim silver circlet, "is the confirmation of your sovereignty, the royal crown which represents your compact with the people of Demos. The Powers of State and Empire are united in you. You rule the third world and unify the five. You are the fire reeds of Demos and the crucible of Rendulix; you make the Empire safe."
"You alone will be able to wear the crown," said Teyamat, lowering the coronet down on Pengallia's head, "for to renounce it is to break your sacred bond with your people."
The cheers raised to a crescendo as the ceremony ended and Teyamat resumed her place at the Queen's right hand. In the sky the Battlefleet was joined by light shows and fireworks as Pengallia prepared to receive her first petition.
A shape emerged from the crowd of guests, dressed in a full suit of golden armour that copied the style of ceremonial dress amongst his people, with a great wing-like collar accentuating and distorting the shape of his shoulders, and a great golden cloak surrounding him. The Time Lord ascended the platform, and knelt before the new Queen.
"Governor Proteus," she acknowledged.
"It's Ambassador Proteus now, Majestrix. The Royal House of Dvora is restored as sovereign to Demos."
"Of course," she smiled. It was a little soon for her to be forgetting that particular fact.
"I bring word from President Pandak. As First Earl of Patrex, he extends a personal offer to the new Kithriarch of House Dvora."
"Kithriarch?" While technically correct, this particular title was pretty much redundant, and Pengallia wasn't entirely happy to be reminded of it, "I'm the last of my line, Proteus. We waited aeons to recover the crown, and thanks to Rassilon and his age of reason, I'll not be producing heirs any time soon."
Proteus nodded. "Rassilon is a spent force, Majestrix. Pandak offers you a future."
Rumours of Rassilon's enforced retirement had been kept in check beyond the Capitol, but Proteus was using words that might suggest a sea change in Time Lord policy.
"What kind of future?"
"A seat on the High Council, the Patronage of the Patrexes, and a Chapterhouse Loom."
A Chapterhouse Loom? Pengallia was intrigued. Demos was the only world allowed access to looming technology outside of Gallifrey, largely as a means of populating the Time Battalions, but it was the most basic of models which offered little more than the straight cloning of Demosian Warriors. A Chapterhouse Loom, on the other hand, would have been programmed with the many genetic enhancements introduced into modern Time Lord society. Such an offer was unheard of.
"Explain this offer in more detail, Proteus."
"Pandak wants House Dvora to join the Great Houses of Gallifrey. To bring new blood into Time Lord society."
"So Gallifrey offering to share power with its allies again?" Her royal suspicion was aroused. "What must I give in return for this great honour?"
"The President asks two things. First, Demos must continue to support the war…"
"Demos has no choice but to support it," Pengallia interjected. "Since Gallifrey withdrew from the universe at the start of this war Demos has been the Heart of the Empire. You may have been our Governor, but it was the Generals of Demos who forged new alliances and orchestrated your victories; it was the Time Battalions of Demos who crewed your battlefleets and annihilated your enemies. We may have restored our sovereignty, but our commitment hasn't faltered."
"That is heartening to hear, your Majesty."
"What is the second requirement?"
There was a pause. Proteus, if not President Pandak, had a good idea of Pengallia's political views, and was clearly concerned that the second condition would be unacceptable.
"Let the Empire go."
Pengallia was dumbstruck by the request, which struck at the very heart of Demosian culture. The idea of Gallifrey as Rendulix, the Heart of the Empire, was a symbolic necessity.
"What?" It was all she could manage.
"It's an unsustainable dream, Majestrix. The Empire hasn't functioned since the wars began, and in the current climate we can hardly justify it."
So Gallifrey didn't want an Empire any more. The war was taking its toll. They lacked leadership.
"The Empire is more than just a dream, Proteus. It's a vital part of our philosophy. Tradition, obedience, honour, understanding, loyalty, and respect. A hundred colonies and a thousand affiliated worlds have followed those principles for millions of years. Lord Rassilon understood that."
"And now he is gone. President Pandak and the High Council believe it is time to consolidate. These wars have too many fronts, and too many lives are being lost in the name of the Time Lords."
"And for that reason alone," said Pengallia, "I'll accept the offer."
"You will?"
It was the ambassador's turn to be dumbstruck, but Pengallia had realised that Pandak's offer gave the Empire hope. With a seat on the High Council and full access to the Capitol, the Silver Queen could influence, persuade, and perhaps even challenge this new perspective. And Pandak was offering her the position of power, which she could use to her advantage.
"Yes," Pengallia nodded, "but I have a condition of my own. Rather than support the war, I propose that Demos shall lead it. Rassilon understood the need for pre-emptive action, but since he's gone your people have lacked the killer instinct. Pandak's prevarication has started losing him this war, and it's time the tide was turned."
Proteus paused, considering the offer. It was more than the President could have expected.
"I think those terms are acceptable," he said.