Men of Vorenia (16+) DISCONTINUED

Introductions

The day of The Trials had arrived, and Orelia was anxious. She paced in her chambers, her cape draping behind her as she walked back and forth. Her outfit had been meticulously picked with the assistance of Annete. A pair of black trousers, a thin cotton blouse with puffy sleeves, with a beautiful silver decorative breastplate tying the look together. Her long indigo cape was held over her shoulders with silver rings, and her deep brown leather boots were polished to a shimmer. Orelia’s scabbard hung at her side, the sword within glimmering similarly to her boots. Orelia’s hair was pulled back and braided, the woven silver crown of Vorenia resting on her brow. Two knocks on her door made her pacing pause for a moment, her head turning to look toward the sound. “Yes?” she asked the door, waiting for the response.

“The carriages are beginning to arrive, Your Highness.” a man’s voice responded, making Orelia swallow.

“Alright, just give me one moment to make sure I am presentable.” Orelia called, rushing to her vanity. 

In the candle light, she fixed a stray hair. After fixing any other imperfections, she exited her room with a sigh. Her nerves remained strong as she made her way to the front entrance where the carriages were parked. Servants opened the large doors as she swept her hand, the sunlight from the outside world shining into the Grand Hall. Orelia stood atop the stairs, looking out across the line of carriages waiting to release their passengers. The first two carriages had a distinct Fraujarn design, with many metal spirals and curls representing the cold winter snow. A pair of large black stallions pulled each carriage, the whites of their eyes shining wildly in the sunlight. Behind the Fraujarn carriages, a pair of strong roan horses pulled a Karevethen carriage. The Karevethen carriage had beautiful gold and silver metal decals lining its large, dark wooden frame. “Empress,” a voice called from behind her. “If you would please step into the Throne Room to address the attendees.”

Orelia nodded, looking out a final time over the vista of carriages and horses before turning and walking toward the Throne Room. The grand oak doors to the Throne Room were wide open, revealing the marvel that was the Vorenian throne. Her grandfather and father had both sat in the magnificent seat, and now it was her turn to sit in it. The seat itself was framed with a brilliant pattern of silver and various shades of purple. Patterns of eagle feathers, a symbol of Vorenia, were scattered about the decoration.

After observing the throne for a moment, Orelia walked up the few steps leading to her seat. She turned, sitting and watching for her guests. Servants carrying trunks full of clothing were bound for the Dignitary Hall, surely bringing more clothing to those dignitaries that remained from her coronation ceremony. Orelia sat as she began to notice a pair of well dressed men walking toward the throne. An older court member began to announce their names and affiliations in their home country. “Lord Gelic and Lord Spelic of the Empire of Fraujar, Viscount and Count respectively, Your Majesty.” the courtier explained.

 Viscount Gelic and Count Spelic marched toward her, each seeming to vie to be the first to reach the throne. Orelia sighed slightly, shaking her slight disappointment away as the two men approached her. “Greetings, Your gracious Majesty.” the Viscount said, bowing deeply before her.

As the Count joined Gelic, Orelia smiled. “Welcome, good lords. I thank you for coming to Vorenia for this occasion.” she responded, bowing her head to them as the pair rose.

The pair were ushered off to their seats by a low ranking court official, Orelia’s eyes already finding the next man. The moment he entered the Throne Room, a chill filled the air. His presence was undeniable, making Orelia shift. “His Highness, Sixth Prince Ragnar Vitekevich of the Empire of Fraujar.”

Ragnar walked to her with a long, elegant gait, his face steely and unfeeling. He stopped before her, his head tilting up slightly. Orelia took in the sight of him, Ragnar appearing to do the same thing for a moment. His midnight hair was slicked back, revealing his naturally stern brow and familiar emerald eyes. Orelia noticed thin silver lines traced the bottom of his eyes, similar to the eye makeup she wore the day of her father’s murder. Small white gems were stuck on both corners of each eye, barely noticeable against his pale porcelain skin. Ragnar wore a deep navy uniform, a brown fur accent on his left shoulder linking his black cape together. His face turned down as he bowed his head to her, Orelia returning the gesture.