Procession Of The Nobles Novels & Stories

Noelle, Asty, and Mrs. Pickinns descended from their carriage after arriving at the Palace of Chesterfawn. With glimmering eyes, Noelle and Asty obsequiously stared at the Nobles which displayed beautiful and shimmering regalias. Dresses that are handwoven with sequins and beads which glowed in assonance of the lights. Noelle and Asty stared as the Nobles ascend the beautiful golden glass staircase that led to Palace's gates.

Trailing behind him were two rows of male and female priests, bearing ceremonial instruments that faintly hinted at a larger ritual formation. The appearance of the group caused pedestrians to instinctively retreat, creating a path for their passage. Even Celeste and Umbrex couldn't help but furrow their brows and make way. As the procession passed by, the leader's gaze swept over them like lightning, as if attempting to read their minds. In that fleeting moment, it felt as though an eternity had passed. It was only once the procession had completely vanished from view that Celeste and Umbrex snapped back to reality. The penetrating gaze of the old man felt like a distant reverie.

Music rises again from the musicians stationed near the eastern side of the grounds while servants begin moving elegantly between the massive banquet tables carrying large trays of roasted meat, fruits, pastries, and ornate dishes prepared specially for the occasion. "Long live the Alpha!" "Long live the future heir!" The chants continue from different corners of the garden while Aeron settles back into his seat. He does this with obvious satisfaction. I glance toward him briefly an cannot help smiling. He truly looks happy tonight, and it makes me happy too. Soon afterward, the formal procession of gifts begins. One after the other, well respected dignitaries steps forward toward the elevat

A silk scarf of ocean blue is wrapped around her neck to hide the stitches that keep her head in place and just the thought has my stomach rolling. Their family covers them with a piece of navy chiffon and the men step forward. Acting as porters, the men lift the carrying poles that support each litter, onto their shoulders and as they do my parents step forward in long white robes. They step to the front of the procession hand in hand and begin the walk from the palace down to the shore. They are followed by Cole and his family and then Andromeda and hers, all flanked by the other Elite Guards.

Both watching and ready for whatever came next. He looked away first, his attention shifting to someone behind me. I turned slightly and saw Fabian standing near one of the side entrances, dressed in House Castellan black. He caught my eye and gave the smallest nod. Everything was in place. The Cathedral bells chimed. Conversations died. Everyone turned toward the main entrance. The procession began. First came musicians, playing something classical and mournful. Then attendants in green and red scattered flower petals along the aisle. Then bridesmaids, all young women from House Rosetti, walking in a practiced formation.

People watched from behind every window along the street; a desperate gloom enveloped the entire city. The procession should have included the city's nobles and informers, usually dressed in white robes and walking at the front to receive the crowd's adulation and cheers. This time, however, they were collectively absent. Unlike the carnival-like execution scenes of the past, if they dared to appear now, they would likely be torn to shreds by the rioting crowd.

Don said in a low tone. My heart skipped a beat. Before I could utter a word of protest, before I could even form a thought, he pulled gently, and I rose to stand beside him. His left hand never let go of mine; his right remained outstretched for the continuation of the procession. And so it continued. One after another, they kissed his right hand: Alphas, elders, warriors, and nobles, while I stood beside him, fully visible, fully present. Not concealed. Not dismissed.

Colorful flowers were thrown every few steps, scattering the petals across the ground and covering the dirty snow along the path. Thomas rode at the head of the procession, dressed in a deep sky-blue tunic embroidered with mythical beasts. A black-and-white fox fur cloak draped over his shoulders. His tanned skin carried a certain boldness, different from the fair complexions of other noble sons in the capital. The contrast made his sharp features even more striking. His eyes were steady, his purpose clear. Behind him rode a group of young men from his family, while Alice and Opal, along with a few other ladies of the household, sat comfortably in the carriage.

This reminded Norman that tonight was the eve of Winterday, and every noble must have gathered in the castle to celebrate it with the royal family. The three districts were divided between a wall, whereas those who enters the noble district must be checked first and only the nobles or servants of a household are allowed entrance. There wasn’t a line in the noble district’s passage, as it was more direct and instantaneously since nobles had their crests instilled in their carriages, and the guards had memorized most; if not all household crests. Viscount Strawford and his group split from the caravan, he spoke to Norman of housing his servants first in his mansion and a must-have preparation

They don’t know what they’ve lost. But the carriages moved on. The guards called orders. The gates creaked open. The people of Qombinia roared as the procession began—gold wheels turning, jeweled dresses sparkling, and the kingdom rolling proudly into a competition that would decide not just beauty or grace… but the future of power itself.