The Jewel of Orlegon

Chapter 23: A Step into the Lion's Den

The murmurs of the courtiers gathered in the enormous hall fell silent at the herald's announcement. They were immediately replaced by the muted rustling of hundreds of silk and other precious fabrics rubbing against one another as their owners crowded along the path that separated the imposing double doors from the magnificent throne at the other end. The heat in the room was stifling in this late summer despite the high arched windows piercing the walls of the upper gallery, and the heavy scents of perfume struggled to mask the sweat that this commotion had stirred. Alteria couldn't help but feel a cold sweat trickle down her back as she saw the human corridor that had formed in front of them upon hearing of their presence.

The journey from Agathil to the imperial capital had seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and Alteria didn't think she could feel any less capable of facing the ordeal that awaited them than she did now. A glance at her sides quickly revealed that Rymian and Saosa were no more comfortable than she was, hiding their apprehension as best as they could behind a stiffness that made them look like inflexible statues. The three novices felt even more exposed because it had been decided that their nahori, Camexen, would not accompany them to this audience. Even Selven Lacemil, who accompanied them, had allowed herself to take a deep breath before stepping into the throne room, as if to better prepare for what was to come.

On the opposite side of the room, at the end of the infinite corridor of curious courtiers, raised on a platform, was the imperial throne of Orlegon blazing in all its glory. Legend had it that this relic had belonged to Arkos the Founder himself, who had it made during his reign. The seat itself was carved from a single piece of pink granite, but it was the backrest that made it exceptional. Behind the pink stone seat, immense flames carved from precious wood blossomed like a gigantic scarlet flower, covered here in gold leaf and there in paintings of red and orange hues. The overall effect was that whoever sat on the throne did so in the heart of a monumental fire.

That day, at the heart of the blaze, sat the slender figure of a middle-aged woman, whose jet-black hair contrasted with the gold of the crown adorning her head. Alteria had learned from the Selven of the Obsidian that the imperial crown, like Orlegon's throne, dated back to the founding of the empire and the myth that surrounded it. It was said that Arkos, the first king of Orlegon, had led a nomadic people from the west who had settled when their king witnessed the miracle of a phoenix rising from its ashes. The city of Xephios now stood on the foundations of that ancient kingdom, and the phoenix now protected the monarchs of Orlegon with its wings in the form of the imperial crown. The golden wings thus enclosed the dark hair of the woman who was now sitting on the fiery throne and staring at the four Enartians ascending the aisle toward her.

When they reached the bottom of the platform where Empress Lirany of Orlegon stood, the novices stopped one step behind their Selven before bowing in a complex salute. The position was difficult to maintain with stability, and that was precisely its purpose, as Lacemil had explained when she taught it to them. All the weight of the body was shifted to the left leg, while the right leg stretched out over the left. The left hand was placed at the lower back, and the right hand was presented, palm up, at heart level. This created a state of imbalance designed to discourage any attempt to attack the saluted monarch, and, failing that, to make any such attack so obvious that it could be intercepted by the four guards standing at the base of the stairs. It would have been difficult, even for an Enartian, to launch an attack while maintaining an element of surprise.

The silence lingered in the throne room, and Alteria could feel her muscles beginning to strain to maintain the complex position despite the diligent training they had undergone to master it. She didn't even have the luxury of being able to observe the Empress more closely because she was still obliged to keep her gaze fixed on the floor until instructed otherwise. Finally, the instruction came in a melodic and almost whispered voice that reminded Alteria of the wind rustling through the foliage of Nimeo's jungles.