"What have I done?" Maria asked, tensing as she prepared to make a run for it. If she could get to Rafael, they could get to her mother…
"Don't you remember using Dark Magic on subjects of Crown?" the Third Prince said, as if she should know this and the question was rhetorical. "You were on probation. Now your probation ends, as the king has seen fit to judge your actions. You once told me you'd accept the consequences. Well, here they are. I promise you, my father is more than fair."
"Yes, I heard he was like a beautiful young maiden in appearance," Maria said.
"That too," the third prince agreed. "I'd advise you against saying that to his face though. Father can be… sensitive."
For a moment, Maria debated running anyway…
But her mother… and Rafael…
He said his father was fair, right? Surely he'd see the necessity of her actions.
"I'll get my suit." Maria said.
Apparently, 'seen fit to judge' did not immediately mean 'ready to judge'. Which was how Maria found herself waiting in a cell. Oh, it was a rather plain room and there was a symbolic brazier with the usual religious icon of the Chosen Lord of the Hallowed sitting next to it, but given how the door had locked behind her, it was a cell.
At least wind was coming from somewhere. The room was refreshingly cool, brazier aside.
Having nothing better to do, Maria sat in front of the brazier as if it were a bonfire made of the bones of the unfortunate undead of myth, closed her eyes and prayed she'd made the right choice in not running.
…
She hoped she was allowed to refresh herself before she saw the king, this brazier was making her sweaty.
Thankfully, she was allowed to refresh herself before she saw the king, as she was very sweaty.
From the rising sun, she had waited in that cell all night, contemplating her fate. Still, it was only a night. It was not unknown for someone to be thrown into a cell to wait indefinitely. A night was practical speedy and efficient!
She tried to remember the date, but she had never really paid much attention to the significant days in the calendar, except when they pertained to her. Planting, harvest, holidays… she thought there was an important day today. Some holyday or other, related to the usurping of the Flame? Or was it when the Kingdom was founded…?
Maria hoped no one asked, this was very embarrassing.
Allowed to refresh herself, fed no breakfast, she was now waiting in a small room of the castle, and curtly told not to speak to anyone. There were others in the room, all of whom looked nervous but equally silent, suggesting they had received the same order. Maria eyed them, wondering what they had done– or, she generously allowed, what they had been wrongly accused of– to be here with her. She thought she recognized someone from the ministry, and… was that a classmate? As their eyes met, she corrected herself. He was from the class that had graduated last year, one whose graduation she had overseen and spoken at. His eyes widened when he saw her, but beyond a nod of greeting and recognition, he gave no indication of why he was here, nor any indication as to what he might have done relative to her.
There were others as well. Some looked like commoners wearing their best clothes, looking nervous, almost ill. She nearly offered to use her Light Magic before remembering the prohibition. Should she risk using it on them in secret? It made no visible light, after all…
No, best not to make things potentially worse for herself. She was already here for using magic she should not, after all. No need to repeat her mistake so close to her judgement.
She hoped no one in the room had committed some atrocity that would so enrage the king they would lose leniency.
Once more, Maria checked her suit, checked her cravat to make sure it had no blood on it, remembered she hadn't tried to kill herself and failed so there wouldn't be, and tried not to fidget. At least none she knew save the Third Prince and perhaps Prince Alan would be here to watch her be judged. While it would come to the school as rumor eventually, she did not wish new rumors of ill reputation to follow her about.
Eventually, the door opened, and a man, some sort of page or messenger entered, dressed in what was probably ceremonial court garb. "Follow me and do not speak," he directed them, speaking in the tones of a man speaking in rote ceremony. At the orderly way they proceeded after him (Maria had to be directed to her place, which was at the end), it appeared they at least had more forewarning than she had, and had at least been informed of expected protocol.
Perhaps the prince was more annoyed with her than she thought…
Maria had never been inside the royal capital, much less their castle. It seemed oversized, as if meant for beings taller than mere mortals. Every few dozen yards, a figure garbed in the black armor of the royal guard's elites stood sentry, while more lightly armored guards patrolled. Maria saw them only distantly. Either the patrols had been diverted from their path, or their path had been chosen around the patrols.
Eventually, the reached a tall, lavishly decorated hall, the armor along the walls– men or decoration, she could not tell which– as well as the banners, tapestries and other elements speaking of both wealth and power. Ahead stood a tall set of double doors, meant to intimidate, awe, and in extremity allow the castle to hold horse, giants and siege weaponry in its inner halls.
The doors opened, their smoothness and quiet speaking of fine engineering and craft and a fortune's work in skill. Maria heard some with her gasp. At least one person praised the sun and begged for mercy.
The space beyond was the throne room. And it was packed.
Gaudy, contrasting, elegant, lurid and every other adjective one could choose described the clothes of those who filled the hall along both sides, and on balconies above. In the center was a wide cleared path, enough for a chariot to triumphantly proceed down. Along either side were the nobility, dressed in their most adjectival clothing, standing behind the armored ranks of knights; Warriors of the Sun in their gleaming armor and surcoat, Blades of the Darkmoon clad in darkened silver, and Blue Sentinels in azure. Maria could not calculate how many deep the nobility were, but given the arching roof high overhead showed the throne room was much larger than the Academy's dining hall, the largest single room Maria had seen in this life, it was certainly considerable.
Lady and child looked at one another, and the child stepped back.
Though she was at the rear, Maria Campbell strode in as befitting a noble of Cainhurst. Back straight, head held, high coat sweeping dramatically behind her with aid of subtle gestures, cravat most definitely not bloody (though she unfortunately lacked even a flower to pin on it). She ignored those on either side as beneath notice. In this place, in this chamber, only one mattered.
At the end of the path, on a surprisingly plain throne despite the back seemingly meant for a giant, sat the King.
King Artorias Stuart of Sorcier was… well, blond and fair of skin like his sons. His face was pretty, far too pretty, a trait he shared with his third son. His face… probably also shared their cunning and intelligence? Honestly, Maria was too far away to be sure.
She was NOT too far away to see that sitting down the king barely reached either of his sons stomachs.
No matter. He was king. He could be the size of a child and it would not matter, for he was king and he ruled this land…
…
The first name was called. The man knelt clumsily, seeming confused on whether he should go on one of both knees before shakily going so on one.
It was at this point Maria began to feel confusion.
Why was she in the same group as a man being honored for constructing and funding a hospital for the poor?
Only about a dozen names in all, but they filled Maria with more confusion.
A commoner woman who had entered a burning building to save several children.
A young lord who had completed his training, and was knighted to join the covenant of the Blades of the Darkmoon.
A clerk who had reported a grave embezzlement, and had reported it rather than profiting himself.
A minor lady who had cleared the name of many accused of murder, theft and other crimes, clearing the innocent and finding the guilty.
A clerk who had worked tirelessly for three days doing all the paperwork in his department when everyone else had can come down sick with a case of bad meat.
Who were these people? She had nothing in common with them, though she would admit to bowing in horrified admiration when the clerk's accomplishment was announced, and honors bestowed upon him.
Finally, the precedents were done, and her name was called.
"Maria Campbell!"
Unlike the others, it was the Third Prince who called her name.
There were murmurs, just as there had been for the others, but louder. Was this unusual? Out of the corner of her eye she recognized some of her classmates. She DEFINITELY recognized Lady Claes near the front, among the highest ranked, next to who must have been his grace her father and her grace her mother. Lady Claes, in defiance of all propriety, was trying to catch her eye. Her mother eventually grabbed her hand and glared at her.
Still, she did not waver. She strode before the king to where all other supplicants had gone and, as she had seen done, knelt on one knee, hand across her chest and arm out in deep respect, if in mirror to how it was done in Cainhurst.
"Maria Campbell, you are here to face the King's Judgement," the Third Prince said, and the murmurs became outright whispers of confusion and… eagerness. Bloodthirsty eagerness. Maria's blood grew cold. Perhaps she should have run away after all. "Speak only truth, lest the very sun turn away from you, and you walk in darkness most abyssal evermore. Do you understand?" Some trick of the architecture, or perhaps subtle wind magic (for Lord Ascart was at his side), made his words seem to echo across the throne room, just as the King's had when he had bestowed honors.
Maria did not nod. She was no stranger to the theatrics of courtly ceremony, not some ignorant commoner. "Yes, your highness," she said, voice clear and carrying and even and hiding her fear.
The prince smiled, ever so subtly, as if… in approval? "Then may you face the consequences of your actions, as you deserve," the Prince said, before turning and bowing to the King.
The king rose and so short was he that even with her head bowed, eyes downcast, Maria could almost see his face. He barely came to his son's collarbone! He was shorter than Sophia! "Maria Campbell," he said, and even his voice sounded womanly, even as he pitched it as deeply as it would go. "My sons have spoken much of you, Maria Campbell, President of the Academy's Student Council. You saved my sons lives from one of the once-Marchioness Dieke's cronies who used his magic to have them and others in his mercy, a force so terrible he called upon the fog to mark his chamber."
There were gasps at that.
"You walked to the border city of Noir, inspiring stories and saving lives. You entered a stronghold in the name of children who had been taken. Already tales are told, in places high and low, of the courage and miracles wrought by Lady Maria, who protects children from rabid dogs and cures their bites so the cursed affliction will not take hold. Who stands against those who would take what is not theirs, to protect the ones with little to their name. Who heals with a touch and makes the lame walk."
Maria blinked in surprise as gasps rippled out behind her. Wait, that lunatic being talked about was her? Who was defaming her like this?! She was not some sort of wandering madwoman!
Abruptly she realized.
Lady Maria.
Maria Campbell was a mere commoner, bastard or not.
She was in deep swamp. With enormous giant balls of vipers all around.
"It has taken time, but the Ministry has catalogued and confirmed all the reports you have sent as to your locations, interviewed witnesses to your actions. I have read them. Know that I have judged better men with less, Lady Maria."
Movement. Maria saw the king holding out a hand. A long box was handed to the Third Prince, which he opened. Inside was a sword, a simple saber, shining steel with a slight glass-like tinge. He offered the blade to the king, who took it, resting it on his shoulder carefully. Surely he would not execute her himself? Here? Now?
The smooth stone beneath her knee was… ominous. She wanted to run. She wanted to run. She–
No. No, Lady Claes was here.
Her eyes flicked towards the Third Prince.
He would not allow her to be audience to an execution.
It was an absurd line of logic.
It was all she had.
Maria forced herself to calmness.
"You are called Lady. Are you a noble, Maria Campbell?"
"No, your Majesty." Her voice was strong and even and, if not exactly humble, not challenging.
"Do you want to be?" Gasps.
"No, your Majesty." More gasps.
"Why not?"
"I have done nothing to deserve such an honor."
Murmurs behind her, but only silence in front.
Maria was peripherally aware that the king turned to face one prince of her acquaintance, then the other. They did not speak, but something must have been imparted.
"You were told not to lie, Maria Campbell."
Lie? Lie about what? "I do not lie, your Majesty."
A long silence, one that quieted even the assemblage behind her.
"No," the king said softly, and she knew only her ears heard, "no, you don't, do you?"
The king raised the sword… and lay it gently on her shoulder. "By the Darksign, in the lost name of the Chosen Lord of the Hallowed, and by my authority as King, I hereby dub thee Lady Maria, a knight of Sorcier." It touched her other shoulder. "And charge thee to deserve such an honor."
And what was one to say to such a confusing thing? "Yes, your Majesty."
The sword was turned and, as had been done with the lord that had preceded her (with a different sword), was offered to her hilt first. She accepted it gracefully.
"Well, congratulations," she heard again for her ears only, "I look forward to what you do next." The king stepped away.
She rose and joined those who had preceded her, carrying the glass-tinged weapon until an attendant came to place it in a box.
It was only then she saw her mother, standing next to Rafael and wearing her best dress.
When the King had withdrawn, the court dismissed, she set out to find her mother, of a mind to get to her before some lecher could.
It was not her mother she met first.
"Ha! Now I can call you Maria and you have to call me Katarina!" Katarina Claes said triumphantly.
Consequence Saber (Enchanted)
A curved sword commissioned for Maria Campbell, and bestowed upon her ennoblement. Infused with a special form of rare crystalline Titanite, on recommendation.
The King charged Lady Maria to be deserving of being a knight.
She's still wondering why she was called here in the first place.
