My Shield Shall Turn to Ash

[HappyShackles 886]

 

 

 

The humid air of the Cathedral of the Holy Sepulchre doused the armored Prince in sweat. The eyes of the room all fell on one man, and flooded the young Prince with nervous thoughts, but only for a moment. His heart was welling with pride. Each day he had walked with an empty urn, but now he would feel a blessed weight at his hip forevermore.

"Charles Francis, son of John I, Imperial Prince of Oren and Duke of Banard,"

Charles stood, stoically before the altar in the Cathedral, the High Pontiff addressing him from it. Lucien III gave Charles a curt nod accompanied by a smile, and Charles felt a shiver run down his spine. He took a step forward a moment after his name was called. His hand tightened into a fist as the ominous silence in the room was broken by the heavy step of his ebony, armored boots.

The black armor encasing the Prince caught the light of the chandeliers in such a way that the armor itself seemed to resonate with some righteous light. The High Pontiff pursed his lips and raised his hand.

"You, who would stand before me and swear his sword unto the service of GOD and the protection of His children. Prince Charles, you have known war since the beginning of your life, and since your childhood you held a sword in defense of your father's Empire and it's people. Yet you are no longer a child, and you are more than just a simple man. Now, confirm your strength in faith and in GOD."

Charles shakes his head once, descending to one knee before the High Pontiff. He cleared his throat, and after an uncomfortably long pause, he spoke;

"If I should falter in my course, send me never to the skies above.
If I should succeed, bestow unto me His blessings, forevermore.
For, now I march into a valley through which there is no path.
And the stones cascade behind me, to seal my retreat."

Charles' eyes drifted from the marble floors to the Vicar of GOD who stood before him, his words growing firmer.

"Though in this valley, I find my Brothers;
Now I am named Guardian of His Flock.
Should I falter, my shield shall turn to ash;"

The Prince bites his lip, lowering his head for but a moment, ushering yet another uncomfortable silence, till he finally spoke once more.

"But I shall not falter."

The High Pontiff grins and raises his hands,

"Then I bestow upon you the ashes of Blessed Stefan Himmel, and do name you Knight of the Ashen Urn, Holy Ser, Charles Francis Horen."
Charles stood slowly, as the room grew ever louder with murmurs of praise and congratulations. The High Pontiff offered him a small urn from the altar, the clay imprinted with a vicious dragon, clasping a Lorraine Cross protectively. Charles nodded, speaking quietly in a tone only Lucien III could hear.

"I shall not falter."

 

[Vitteman 2]

Barin, son of Gundin, a dwarven acquaintance of Charles Francis, nods a few times as he observes the cathedral's interior from its outside steps - having been denied access to the place of worship on account of his dwarven faith. He clasps his meaty hands together, licking his lips ever so slightly.

 

"We've made a good investment bein' mates with this one, ey?" jests the dwarf bawdily to his brother, Oain. 

[CheekyNolan 5420]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.