Procession Of The Nobles Novels & Stories

He did not come willingly. They dragged him through the gardens in crystal cuffs that neutralized his magic, his silk robes tearing on thorn bushes, his bare feet leaving prints in the dew-wet grass. The servants watched from windows. The neighbors peered over walls. And somewhere in the city, a scholarship student who had once trembled at the sound of his name smiled for the first time in years. By noon, seventeen nobles had been taken. By evening, thirty-one.

Rora exclaimed as she ran her hand over the seat. "Rora, please focus," Rami chided gently. "Have you double-checked everything?" Rora laughed lightly. "Yes, of course I have!" she replied, her demeanor carefree and jovial. As the group gathered and prepared to depart, the knights mounted their steeds, the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoing against the cobblestones. Theron and the Grand Duke positioned themselves at the front of the procession, embodying a sense of silent strength and leadership that set the tone for the journey ahead. Theron and the Grand duke's authoritative presence exuded both reassurance and command, a guiding force leading the way.

In the section for nobility, first to be served were without doubt the royal family, then were grand dukes followed by dukes, lords and nobles of lesser rank; In the commoner section, first to be served were scholars followed by commoners who were free man and lastly servants of various estates. The crown prince sat behind the king and queen in an open chariot at the head of the procession behind the royal guards and ceremonial elders followed by the grand dukes. The procession would have a single person line of national guards wearing golden smock representing the king on all sides from the front of the procession to the very end. The pattern of arrangement inside this outer ring was simila

But tonight that would change. The residents of Kyrshom, oblivious to the army beyond the walls, thronged behind the official procession singing and making music with their own instruments. The procession walked the two miles along the main street of the city until it entered the Palace Circle. The gates, usually only opened for those with official palace business, were flung wide open tonight granting welcome to any and all for the celebration.

It was almost enough to push her anxiety to the corners of her mind. The people of the Imperial City pushed in close and crowded the streets as they entered the city. They cheered the procession with drums and screaming, throwing garlands and bouquets from the balconies. Soldiers broke off to greet their loved ones as they marched and Adolph’s gaze remained focused on the castle ahead of them.

Her candle extinguished with a thought, darkness falling instantly around her as she pressed herself against the wall beside the window, peering through the tear in the oilcloth. A procession moved through the Veil streets below. Guards with spears crowned by living embers escorted a figure in a cloak that rippled like sunlight caught in amber—House Holt, just as Marek had warned. The noble's face was obscured, but his bearing radiated the casual arrogance of the magically privileged. Four servants followed, struggling under the weight of an ornate sedan chair, its crystal components catching the moonlight and fracturing it into prismatic patterns across the filthy street. Xalara watched as

Heaving a sigh, Augustus tried to divert their minds from such a gloomy topic and spoke, "Maybe or maybe not. But she is gone from our life for good and let's focus on other things like mask procession. " "Mask procession? What's that? " Augustus chuckled seeing Ritha's confused expression and explained it to her, "It's an annual celebration where everyone disguise in any form of character from our ancient books or simply anything according to their taste. Royal members get the special priveliage of disguising ourselves into our Gods like Mars, Neptune, etc. " He caressed her cheeks with adoration and Ritha was amazed with this piece of information. She was looking forward to this event but

“Then it is done.” The hall filled with applause that felt more like a verdict. Gideon offered his arm, and I took it. We began the procession through the Great Hall—the kind that isn’t about moving from one place to another, but about being seen. The silver cord might have vanished, but the whole room looked at us as if it still bound us together. Lanternlight gilded the white silk draped overhead, the scent of night jasmine spilling in from the open arches. Courtiers bowed as we passed, their faces lit in polite smiles that didn’t always reach their eyes.

They were not bound by the solemnity of the moment, nor did they grant the blood time to congeal before they began weaving their plans. In a far corner, the nobles huddled together, their opulent robes billowing around them, shielding them from the crimson testament to their rebellion. Their shoes, polished to a mirror-like gleam, remained unsullied, a stark contrast to the fallen king at their feet. It was as though they had shed the last vestiges of humanity, consumed by the ravenous hunger for power.