Our Little Gods 1: RABATEA, the first World of the Daughters.

Chapter 26.

His lands were so beautiful to his eyes. The young king had been riding the slopes of the rising side of the Curupagh Mountains as he was coming back to his city from the retreat in the remote monastery of Runcevel. Legend claimed that Salah herself when she left this world after giving the crown of the Limores to King Maalieut the blessed stepped away from the world on the very spot the monastery was later built. It used to be a sheer cliff plunging directly down into the frothy waters of the Detikara. The small place of worship was a haven of peace and meditation.

Radelyes had made the habit of retiring there for ten days before going back to the city of Medsit and the celebrations of the Names. In the time of the unity, Medsit had been a provincial administrative town with the royal winter palace on its shores. The palace had become the main residency of the kings of lower Limore since the partition and both palace and town had grown together. Radelyes had been born in the palace itself and had spent all his childhood riding his horse in the woods of the hinterland or exploring the long sandy beach that went all the way down to the harbor of Lott second largest city in Lower Limore. His father, Salagarek the fourteenth of his name, had always insisted like his predecessors in calling their kingdom: "Limore" and the other lands by the name: "the lost provinces". Salagarek was an old man when Radelyes had been born and he had dotted over the boy more in the fashion of a grand father than that of a true father. He would spend hours each evening telling the boys the histories of the three Limores, the partition wars and how his own father had tried and succeeded in bringing the three leaders to a negotiation table, in order to end a generation old feud; and how the Turtle-shell crowned kind had mysteriously died in the night thus ending the peace talks that had taken decades to initiate. There had been the wildest rumours of poison and foul play and the relations between the estranged brother-states had been tensed ever since. But to Radelyes it was only the death of his father and his mother in a boating accident that had put him on the throne at the age of sixteen, that made his soul ache for the lost comfort of being ruled by a genteel king and father; and ruling over his people was a momentous task enough for one as young as he, for he was merely twenty-six.

The time of the year when the Limorites celebrated their glorious dead, those fallen for the kingdom or at its service and the memory of the past sovereigns that had ruled the land since the partition, was upon them again. It was a grand ceremony with a lot of pump and gravity and Radelyes always made a point in showing how devoted and earnest he was in his remembering, not as a posture but as a token to the memory of what his father had told him about this event. His father had explained to him how important for the people and for the soldiers, not only those present there but also those on the Link guarding the fortified border; it was, to be able to remember those lost in battles and why they fell and be assured that would they fall, they too will be remembered on that day. For a week now, the priests of Salah had been saying the names of the dead at every corner in the cities of the Kingdom. The long lists were brought to them continuously day and night so that they could go on reading and before their voice faltered another took up the platforms to say the names until the lists would be read. On the last day the king would ride from the palace to the esplanade of the temple where soldiers and subjects were assembled and lit the beacon at the top of the stairs right in front of the sanctum of the temple of Salah. Then the goddess would be reminded of her fallen children and the people of Limore would celebrate for the night the fact that they were very much alive.

As he had done every year for the pas ten years Radelyes dressed in formal armor this morning at sunrise and went in the throne room. There he ritually placed his crown on his head while seating on the throne and the court and the guards present hailed him three times. Then the king stood up and walked down the step and to the statue of Salah the Magnificent that was standing in a gilded niche her hands offered. He went down on both knees and took his crown from his own head to place it on the palm of Salah's stone hands. Then, as he rose, all those in the room knelt and the guards took their helmets off and placed them on the floor in front of them. The crown-less king walked then the length of the room to the grand entrance where the priests of Salah waited to cover his silver and gold armor with a large cape of blood red dyed wool. The color, of course, is a symbol of the blood shed for the crown. When the procession reached the palace courtyard the king climbed on a white horse and his guards, all riding blacks and with uncovered heads, moved in line behind him thus showing the trust the king had in his safety with his people.