Chapter 249: Ringed
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Smith ran the buffing cloth over the ring one more time. The protective coating simply hadn't wanted to take, first refusing to adhere to one side of the ring, then the other. He hadn't expected the different materials to give him so much trouble after being forged together.
Ah, well. It was the way of these things. He remembered forging the ring of the Emperor of the Land of Ten Thousand Flowers, and all the trouble he had with that. Gold was easy to work with. Gemstones were nothing special. Jade, however…
Smith was a smith. Not a stone carver.
Once again, he mused, this ring was his best work.
He laid it precisely in the center of the small, ornate chest, the deep purple crushed velvet beneath it depressing ever-so-slightly. It wouldn't be long, now, before it graced the hand of the King of All Ghosts. Even if said king insisted on calling himself a prince.
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"I have to name it right then?" squeaked Danny. "As soon as I get it? In front of everybody?"
And there was a lot of everybody, too. The Council of Regents had apparently sent out most of the invitations weeks ago, without telling Danny, leaving him to contact his friends out of courtesy. (Clockwork had told Danny that usually the ceremony was planned a whole year in advance, but since he was going to enter into negotiations with a foreign power, they were accelerating things.)
Danny thought he should at least get a dress rehearsal, or some background on how the Ring Ceremony was supposed to work, but, no. That wasn't how the ceremony worked. Danny was going to be in the dark except for where he was going to be and the fact he had to name the ring off the top of his head.
Oh. And he'd have spectators. Enough to blot out the sky, potentially.
"Did you have to do anything like this for your Pharaoh thing?" he asked Tucker.
"Not… quite? Not on the same scale, anyway. Right before I got your invitation, I was doing something similar. Egyptian coronation ceremonies last for a long time, apparently. They're a year-round sort of deal. Or they were, because they were tied to the seasons, a lot of the time, and when the Nile flooded. Some things have changed, because of seasons being, you know, optional, but, uh… Yeah." He flipped his PDA over and over in his hands, nervously.
Danny immediately felt bad. Here he was, agonizing over his own problems, when his friends had it just as bad. Or was it bad?
"It's going okay for you over there, right?" he asked Tucker.
"Yeah, it's actually really cool. You need to visit at some point."
"I will," promised Danny. Then he was back to agonizing. Only, more contained.
"Don't be so worried," said Nocturne, who was on Danny-sitting duty while the rest of the Regency Council made last-minute preparations. "It'll be fine. All the kings have done it just fine." He yawned, hugely.
"They've been adults, though," said Danny, "and I'm…" He gestured at himself. "I mean, maybe I'm the best choice right now, but it isn't as if—" He broke off as Sam flicked his forehead. "What was that for?" he whined. It didn't hurt, of course, but still.
"Danny," said Sam. "Not only are you the best person for the job, the Core itself wants you to be King. Seriously. If you keep tearing yourself down, it's going to be insulting to everyone who believes in you."
Danny had never thought of it that way, before.
"Besides, I feel the same way. Do you know how many people voted for me? Too many. Way too many. It's insane. This time last year, everyone hated me, and I'm a teenager, the worst person for the job—"
"That's not true," protested Danny, "and Wes got sent, too, so—"
Sam gave him a look.
"Oh," said Danny. "Alright. Okay. I get it."
"Great," said Nocturne. "Now, come on, take a nap. It'll be hours yet before you even have to get dressed."
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Nocturne had to use his powers on Danny before he would actually take a nap. This turned out to be a terrible decision, because Danny was too deeply asleep to wake up at the proper time, despite ample encouragement, and therefore had to rush through getting dressed.
Luckily, the garments for this particular ritual were fairly simple. Tunic, kilt, leggings, decorative belt and his starry cape. He was wearing the crown, too, of course, and it had expanded into a wreath of flowers on his head, thick enough that it was hard to see his hair in places.
Getting to the small, very exposed island where the Ring Ceremony was to take place was another thing. It wasn't far, evidently islands suitable for the ritual just appeared near wherever it was going to take place, but the sky around it was crowded, and a large portion of the crowd was important in one way or another. Add in ghostly touchiness and several conflicting ideas of honor and personal space, and the crowd became quite an obstacle to navigate.
Still, Danny did it, with Clockwork leading the way, becoming more and more apprehensive the deeper into the crowd they got. Hopefully, the 'correct' response to this ritual wouldn't require him to exhibit no stage fright, because that was already a lost cause.
It wasn't as if he hadn't been in front of this many people before. Ghost fights tended to be flashy and highly visible. Even so, he usually wasn't the absolute center of attention in a situation where people were potentially running for their lives. Because people were, well, focused on running for their lives. Even in places where people were used to him, used to ghost fights, like at the school or mall, there usually were only a limited number of brave spectators. Plus, Danny was generally distracted by the fight itself.
Here, there would be no distraction. It would just be him, siting in front of thousands of ghosts and a handful or so of humans, waiting for Smith to arrive, nothing to do but think about what he was going to name the ring.
Something to contrast with rage, maybe? Peace? Calm? Tranquility? Those all sounded like he was about to go to sleep, and although Nocturne might approve of that, he didn't think anyone else would. Even if Tranquility had appeal as the name of one of the lunar maria.
(And no matter how much he wanted peace, he knew that sometimes it just wasn't possible, and that it wasn't something he wanted at the cost of ignoring injustice.)
Something he was hoping to create, to foster? Compassion? Harmony? Amity? He'd feel weird about naming it after one of his cities—
A city. Naming it after a city.
(… although he could definitely call Harmony his city, since it was in his lair, and he lived in Amity Park, so that made it his city, too, even apart from it being his haunt.)
(Calling them his cities was okay, right?)
(It wasn't too possessive? Too ghostly?)
(And even if it was, would that be such a bad thing? He was the Prince of All Ghosts, eventually to be King. If anyone had a right to be ghostly, it had to be him.)
(Right?)
The island was small. Only large enough for what looked like the top bit of a well with a small roof and a hanging bucket and a few square feet of grass. There was a bubble of space around it, an invisible sphere no ghosts dared to cross.
How they maintained such a neat line was beyond Danny. Incredible crowd control, there.
(Unless an effect of the island was keeping them away?)
He crossed the line. Nothing seemed to change. He looked back at Clockwork, who nodded in approval.
Alright, then.
He drifted to the island, hyperaware of all the eyes on him. The grass was springy under his feet when he landed, and full of little flowers. The edge of the island crumbled almost soundlessly at the force of his impact, however negligible.
(Danny was glad he didn't have to worry about falling.)
(The island disintegrating beneath him would probably be a bad omen, however.)
Maybe he could call it the Ring of Hope? No, too cheesy.
He walked over to the well and looked down, expecting to see either a very shallow bottom or a hole through the island.
He saw neither.
Something liquid glinted up at him from a drop of at least ten feet.
This wasn't terribly surprising, however. The Ghost Zone was full of pocket dimensions and strange wrinkles in space-time. Danny had seen weirder in Amity Park, if he was being honest.
He had to wonder if the well was somehow connected to the ritual, though.
There was a bucket. And a rope.
He looked up at the eerily silent horde of ghosts. They were expectant, but not necessarily as though they were expecting Danny to be actively doing something. They were also very still. No signs of movement. No indication of where Smith might be passing through the crowd. If he was passing through the crowd.
He prodded the bucket with his finger. It swung back and forth, creaking slightly.
None of this was very helpful.
Ring of Friendship? He did like friendship… But that didn't quite cover everything he wanted, and he didn't want to sound like he expected everyone to get along all the time. That was impossible, even for well-fed and cared for humans, let alone ghosts who were almost always ready to fight.
(Although, with the Zone itself seeming to whisper in his ear at time, Danny had to wonder how much of that was Pariah's influence.)
He looked at the crowd again. Then back at the well. Then at the crowd. He poked the bucket again and checked for reactions. There did not appear to be any.
He should use however much remaining time he had to think of what to name the ring. Or, at least, avoid making a fool of himself. But he was curious. Was it water at the bottom of the well? Why was the well even there? Was it a necessary part of the ritual, or was it just a coincidence, a relic of whatever this island used to be?
Really, he shouldn't mess with anything. He should just stand here and wait. Or sit and wait. Would sitting be acceptable? He could sit on the edge of the well, it was a decent height, and he was short enough that he wouldn't hit his head on the roof. Yeah… he should just do that. There would be plenty of time to check out what was in the well and how it worked after the ceremony was over.
Unless the ceremony involved destroying the island and the well. He wouldn't be horribly surprised by that.
Fine.
Whatever.
He was curious. And apparently hadn't learned from all the other times curiosity had seriously backfired on him.
He started lowering the bucket. The winch squeaked and squawked all the way down, until it hit the liquid at the bottom with a splash. It took a minute for the bucket to properly sink—buoyancy was still functioning as a law of physics, here—and once it did, Danny started pulling it back up.
It wasn't quite water. It was too… shiny. Too clear. It sparkled with bubbles, and when he tilted the bucket, its movement was viscous.
Definitely not something he wanted to get on himself, he decided. He poured out a little on the grass, which didn't spontaneously wither or die.
He looked back up at the crowd. Still no reaction.
Wait.
He put down the bucket to walk around to the other side of the island, where a disturbance was forming. Ghosts were pulling back to either side, as if part of a pre-rehearsed movement. Which they might have been. Danny didn't know how this worked, and that fact was becoming progressively more annoying.
Soon, a tunnel had been formed through the crowed, and Smith floated through, no care given to any of the spectators, eyes fixed serenely ahead. A small but ornate box rested in his hands.
(In the background, Danny saw Skulker pull the Box Ghost back into the crowd.)
Danny stayed on the island, waited for Smith to approach. He tried not to fidget. Then, Smith was there, floating in front of Danny in all his sinewy glory.
"I have forged a ring for the King of All Ghosts," intoned Smith. "If you be he, speak its true name, and it shall be yours."
Ah. Heck. Danny knew this wasn't going to be straightforward.
Would the true name just be whatever Danny decided to call it? That seemed too easy.
Accord? No, too clinical, and it also ran into the whole 'everyone agreeing' problem.
He did want people to sort of… work together, though… To be happy together… Maybe he could build off that? Build off harmony and amity and all the others? What was similar to that?
Concord? Except that was the name of a plane. And a type of grape.
Wait, there was a thought he had that he hadn't ruled out.
"The Ring of Compassion?"
Wow. He really needed to work on his confident delivery, because that was terrible. It made it sound like he was asking a question or making a suggestion.
Smith opened the box. "Then take it, as is your right, O King, and be forged as it was."
(It was going to set him on fire, wasn't it?)
(Stop that. It was just a metaphor.)
(If it wasn't, he could use his ice powers or douse his hand in the bucket. No big deal.)
The ring was pretty, though, and matched Danny's color scheme perfectly. Cautiously, he reached out and picked up the ring, which was pleasantly cool to the touch.
He turned it over twice between his fingers before he realized he should probably put it on. He slipped it onto the middle finger of his left hand and there was the burning sensation he was worried about.
First step: Ice powers. These did not seem to do anything, fortunately.
Second step: Bucket of not-water.
If it turned out to be full of something that would dissolve flesh, he'd be having words with the Council of Regents.
(Angry ones, if that wasn't clear.)
He plunged his hand into the bucket.
(This was embarrassing.)
(Maybe he should have just jumped into the well. At least then people wouldn't be able to see him turn invisible out of shame.)
(Which he wasn't doing. He had enough control over his powers, now, thank goodness.)
The burning sensation subsided, and Smith nodded at Danny with something that might have been approval. Then he just. Left. Went back the way he came with absolutely no fanfare.
Okay, then.
Was Danny allowed to leave, too?
Then the crowd cheered and converged on Danny. He just barely suppressed his initial instinct to start attacking and heaved a purposefully heavy sigh.
Right. The follow-up party.
He let himself be swept away, the ceremony itself mostly forgotten.
