The Ceremony, pt 1 in Dungeons and Dragons Campaign Brainstorming

Unreleated to previous entries, Written while listening to Dobrinka Tabakova - Alma Redemptoris Mater (Thanks to Mecurial Muse)

The sounds of choir and chorus began while people were ushered into place. Pews began to fill will colours of gold and red, the kingdoms colours. Darche’s colours. The colours of the Familia Familiar. The only ruling family this city had known. From the erection of the church to the founding of the city. It was his lineage that had ruled the city for the past 200 years. That’s not to say there weren’t other noble familia, the most prestigious were at the front of the church, under stain glass windows depicting the 9 gods of the church. The most prestigious were at the front, under guard and watchful eye of the Order of the Holy Knights. The most dangerous were at the front.

The crown prince looked on through a cracked open door that lead out to the choir access. Finding a brief window of respite to get away from the preening of his valet. Every noble familia had came to talk to him before the ceremony. Each wishing luck and good health while not-so subtly reminding him of their own interests. Trade, Law, Lineage. Few were honest, honesty in nobility got you killed.

‘Never reveal your full hand’ his father used to say. That was before he died of illness a fortnight ago. It was all happening too fast. The prince expected years more of learning, more moments where he and his father would sneak off to play cards where they could forget nobility and focus on familia. A boy of 20, a man at 20, soon to be a ruler at 20. Surely the youngest on this side of the world. Certainly younger than leaders of the Elves to the north or the Dwarves to the south.

Today Prince Nefer was to be crowned and wed in the same ceremony. He was not looking forward to standing in one place for so long, nor everything else that came after. On display, barely a human, more of a pawn.

There was no time to waste, with growing tensions from the increasing attacks by Seeds of Reclimation, or SoR as they called themselves, who believed the land of Kings and Men had spread far enough. Trade with the Dwarves was good but for how long? The Familia Narthex wanted more, felt the Dwarves had more to offer, more to give, more to take. Darshe had sprawling farmlands that fed much of the continent with it’s bountiful and elongated growing seasons, it was a strong card to play but 4 of a kind will only get you so far.

The cacophony of the choir and people settled for just a moment as one composition came to a diminuendo finish and another began with similarly subtle tones that allowed whispers to carry. Nefer remembered his father’s love of cards and how often he used them as an analogy for the pomp and circumstance that came with nobility.

“The Ace” His father would say “Could be the lowest card, or the highest. People are no different, the poorest can take down a kingdom if you do not treat them right” Unsurprising, many of The King’s regal poker players always played aces low. His Father never allowed him such luxury though. As Nefer placed a hand over his heart, where he kept his father’s keepsake deck on this day to remind him of his father’s lessons.

A Valet poked his head around the corner at the end of a long hallway. The cold stone made his footsteps echo as he bustled down the corridor to gather him up.

“Come My Prince, the Ceremony begins”