Chương 101: Chapter 100: The Ceremony

The Lord's Hall had been transformed. It was impressive the last time I'd been here, no doubt, but now it had a certain grandeur it lacked before. Every surface was decorated. Banners of deep blue and silver hung from the ceiling, each one bearing the Vizgrad family crest of the silver trout, restored to its proper place after Darius's black avian had been torn down across the city. Fresh flowers lined the central aisle in such a way it almost became a corridor of its own.

Candles burned in crystal holders mounted along every column, their light multiplied by the stained glass until the entire hall was bathed in the colors of the rainbow. There were hundreds of NPCs filling the lower level: nobility in their finest dresses, merchants, craftsmen, soldiers in polished armor bearing scars from yesterday's battle. The balconies above were reserved for the adventurers, and they were overflowing: everyone wanted to see the finishing touch of Tidemark's Civil War arc.

The four of us had been given seats in the front row of the lower level, directly beside the central aisle. The front, meaning among the Count's inner circle. Moreover, the Count had delivered the invitation personally. I sat between Kara and Lothras, with Athos on Kara's other side. We'd cleaned up as well as the game had allowed, but both Lothras and I wore our combat armor, and I hated to admit, but the Paladin looked much more regal in his restored gear.

As for the swordsman, Athos wore an ornate navy coat, similar in style to the ones used by the Knights of the Sea when off duty. I wonder where he got that. Kara had changed into something I'd never seen her wear: a deep blue dress that matched her eyes and made the red of her hair burn like flames. She caught me looking and raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"No, I'm just looking in your general direction."

"Same thing." She smiled and turned back toward the aisle. I wanted to change for the ceremony, but Ser Erdin had approached me a bit before the start.

"Keep your gear on," he said.

"The Black Ranger was crucial in winning this war. Wear it with pride." A fanfare of trumpets silenced the hall; the great doors at the far end swung open, and the procession began. Court Mage Elindra entered first, her staff replaced by a ceremonial rod of silver and sapphire. She walked with the same impatient energy she brought to everything, as if the ceremony was taking time away from actual work, but her eyes were smiling and I knew she was grateful she could do the honor.

Behind her came a column of knights in full ceremonial armor, their swords drawn and held vertically before their faces in salute. The three Knight-Commanders were at the front: Captain Guil Vern walked at their head, his jaw set, his armor fully repaired. Behind him, Ser Donovan Jyll, a man with a very impressive moustache. His armor differed from Captain Vern's: it was a mixture between plate and an admiral's attire. And behind Ser Donovan, the new Knight-Commander of the Count's Guard: Ser Erdin Hoare himself.

Erdin was standing tall despite the multiple wounds that hadn't fully recovered yet. He wore armor similar to Calian's outfit, but much bulkier, and he also held a new weapon: an ornate longsword with the silver trout at the hilt. Ser Syrak followed them, and behind him all the other knights, marching in unison. Then came the Count. Robert Vizgrad walked alone down the central aisle, the Tidemark Trident held horizontally across both palms. He wore no crown; that was the point.

He came as a man, carrying the symbol of his office, to be crowned anew by the will of his people and the blessing of the sea. The hall fell absolutely silent. The Count ascended the steps to the platform, where the Seastone Throne waited. It dominated the space the way the Count dominated the room with his presence. High Priest Aldric stood beside the throne, his white and gold robes restored to their full splendor after the desecration of the temple.

He was smiling, and I had to smile, too: after all that had happened yesterday, the pieces were finally falling into place.

"Robert Vizgrad," Aldric's voice filled the hall without effort, amplified by the building's acoustics, and perhaps by other… divine tricks.

"You come before this throne, this hall, and these people. You carry the Trident of your ancestors, restored by courage and sacrifice. Do you swear to rule Tidemark with wisdom, strength, and mercy?"

"I swear it."

"Do you swear to protect its people from enemies, both outside your realm and within, to uphold the laws of the land, and to bear the weight of the crown not as privilege, but as duty?"

"I swear it."

"Then kneel, Robert Vizgrad. Kneel, and rise as Count." The Count knelt. Aldric produced a circlet of white gold and sapphires from a velvet cushion held by an acolyte and placed it on his head. The Trident came to life, arcane energy swirling around its prongs like a vortex of water. The Count rose, and the hall erupted. The sound was enormous. NPCs and players alike, hundreds of voices shouting approval, hands clapping, feet stamping against the marble floor. The balconies shook with the force of it.

I saw Verdugo on his feet in the upper level, bellowing something in Spanish that was lost in the noise. Stone was beating his shield with his fist, and Thorax was doing what he did best: making everything louder with a voice so deep it could have been misheard as a bass. The Count stood on the platform, the Trident in one hand, the crown on his head, and in that moment he didn't look like a Count of a county. He looked like a ruler. Regal, mighty, and tall.

Not a weary politician or a man dealing with a family crisis. The Lord of the Coast. The ceremony should have ended there, but the Count raised the Trident, and the hall fell silent again.

"Before we proceed to celebrations," he said, his voice filling the space, "there is a debt that must be acknowledged." He turned toward our row.

"Orion. Athos. Kara. Lothras. Please rise." My stomach dropped. I looked at the others. Athos was already standing, because of course he was. Lothras rose with the stiff dignity of someone who'd been expecting this and still didn't like it, while Kara stood with a grace that made it look natural. I stood last, very aware of several hundred pairs of eyes turning toward us. So much for staying unnoticed, huh? Of course I expected this.

My Quest Log hadn't changed for a while, and as with all quests, there were rewards at the end of the journey. That didn't mean I wasn't getting increasingly more uncomfortable by the second.

"These four adventurers," the Count continued, "were entrusted with a quest. I didn't know back then that their trial would lead to what we survived yesterday. And although the motives behind the challenge might have twisted it, its importance is still the same. They recovered the Tidemark Trident from vaults sealed for generations, and they uncovered a conspiracy that reached to the very heart of my court." He paused, letting the words settle.

"When my own Captain betrayed me, when my own nephew raised arms against my throne, these four stood with Tidemark. They held the line and saved my people." The Count descended the platform steps and walked to stand before us.

"Tidemark owes you a debt that gold cannot repay and words cannot express. But I will try." He raised the Trident. It pulsed once, and the system notification appeared. SYSTEM LOG Quest complete: The Seastone Throne Rewards: 500, 000 experience, Influence +5, Presence +5, Cloak of Tidemark, 50 Gold Coins, Adventurer rank advanced to Gold 🏆 Title Unlocked Tidemark's Champion If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Reputation with factions based in Tidemark county: +25 Five hundred thousand experience. Gold rank. The number hit my interface like a tidal wave. My experience bar, which had been sitting comfortably in the lower reaches of level 22, surged forward, blowing past 23 without stopping, and slammed into level 24. I saw the same shock reflected on the others' faces. Athos blinked twice, rapidly, clearly reading his own interface. Kara let out a small breath.

Even Lothras's composure cracked for a moment, his eyebrows rising a fraction. According to the party interface, he'd hit level 25. Increase to Influence and Presence again. It was huge. But the reward that shocked me the most was the cloak. Cloak of Tidemark Unique Level 25 (Growth: can be upgraded to Level 40) Defense: 0 Movement Speed (Tidemark): +10% Vitality: +15 (→ +30) Magnify: +15 (→ +30) Select a single attribute. That attribute is permanently increased by 15 points while the cloak is worn.

Perfect Fit This item counts towards any Armor Set bonuses. Armor Skill: Forged in Flesh Sacrifice an item that possesses an attached skill. The equipment is destroyed, but the skill is permanently absorbed into the player, becoming usable without the original item equipped. The Cloak of Tidemark doesn't have to be equipped to use the absorbed skill. Forged in Flesh can only be used once. Item restrictions will become skill restrictions. Restriction: None I read it three times. A Unique growth item!

The sheer attribute value was insane: 30 points was equal to 6 levels of attribute points spent! Not to mention I could choose anything for 15 of them. And from my understanding, upgrading the item would also increase the stats it gave. And Perfect Fit also meant I didn't have to forgo the armor set bonus from my Black Warg set either. But most of all, Forged in Flesh was something else entirely. I could sacrifice an item, destroy it completely, and absorb its skill into myself.

That meant I could carry abilities from weapons and armor I wasn't currently wearing. Skills that would normally be locked behind equipment choices could become permanent parts of my build. The fact that it specified that the destroyed item's restrictions will transfer to the skill meant that I couldn't just go around and destroy the Level 70 Tidemark Trident for example: its weapon skill 'Wrath of the Deep' would just become a skill locked behind level 70 and the Lancer class.

But that didn't diminish how incredible the skill was. The implications were staggering, and from the way Athos was staring at his own interface, mouth slightly open, I was sure he'd reached the same conclusion.

"This is insane," he whispered. Lothras couldn't even say anything. Kara was already doing the math.

"The build possibilities are…" She trailed off, shaking her head. The Count was watching us with a hint of amusement. He'd probably had no idea what a system notification looked like, but the expressions on our faces told the story clearly enough.

"Wear them with pride," he said.

"You've earned them." The hall erupted in applause again, and this time I didn't mind the attention. Lothras, being level 25 already, equipped the cloak. It had a beautiful, royal blue shade, made of velvet. The edges were adorned with silver threading, and the silver trout on the back made the symbol that much stronger. We were truly at the top of the world this time.

The feast began at sundown and showed no signs of ending. The Lord's Hall's banquet rooms had been thrown open, and what followed was the largest celebration Tidemark had seen since the game launched. Long tables groaned with food: roasted meats, fresh bread, seafood hauled from the morning's catch, pastries and fruits, and dishes I couldn't identify but tasted incredible. Wine and ale flowed without limit; the staff kept mugs and goblets filled with an efficiency that bordered on magic.

The adventurers didn't need a second invitation. Within an hour, the banquet hall was a joyful disaster. Stone had challenged Verdugo to a drinking contest, which escalated to include Disastrous, Djon, and three soldiers who'd clearly done this before. Shieldbreaker had commandeered a balcony and was providing live commentary on the contest, with Thorax keeping score and Virtune offering increasingly poetic descriptions of each contestant's decline.

Kaelith and Seraphina sat in a quieter corner, looking elegant and lethal even while eating. Crimson Court and Second Wind players mingled freely, the rivalries of the past weeks shelved for a night. Blue and Cyrus were deep in conversation near the windows, two of the sharpest minds in the county exchanging ideas over wine. Sylph was teaching a group of NPCs a drinking song from his hometown. It was terrible. Everyone loved it. Los Asesinos had claimed an entire table and were being exactly as loud as expected.

Rafael had his arm around Carmen, who was trying to eat while he narrated their battle highlights to anyone who'd listen. I didn't know they were a couple. Diego and Mano Roja were playing cards while Verdugo was away, losing the drinking contest with tremendous enthusiasm.

Athos moved through the celebration like the guild master he was: a word here, a handshake there, making sure every Second Wind member felt seen while also engaging Crimson Court officers and Midnight Sun leaders with the easy diplomacy that made people follow him. Lothras had found Erdin, Syrak and Cathe. They sat together, talking quietly. And Kara was dancing. A group of musicians had set up near the hall's center, and a space had been cleared for a dance floor.

The music was lively, various melodies answering to each other like birds between branches. Players and NPCs had fun together, the kind of waltzing that required more enthusiasm than skill, and the floor was packed. Kara was spinning without a care in the world. The blue dress swirled around her legs as she moved, and her red hair caught the candlelight every time she turned.

She danced with Stone, who was surprisingly good, and with Sylph, who was not, clearly surprising me as I would have thought the exact opposite. She danced with a young knight who turned scarlet and nearly tripped over his own sword. I watched from the edge of the floor, drink in hand, content to observe, at least until she caught me watching. The music shifted. The drums fell away. The fiddles slowed into something lower, warmer, a melody that moved like the tide: in and out, in and out.

Dancers on the floor adjusted, pairs drawing closer, the energy changing from celebration to something a bit more intimate. Kara walked toward me. She didn't ask. She took the drink from my hand, set it on the nearest table, and pulled me onto the floor.

"I don't dance," I said.

"You do tonight." Her hand found my shoulder. Mine found her waist. She was warm against the cool air of the hall, and this close, I could count the freckles across her nose. We moved. Slowly at first. I had to admit; I wasn't a terrible dancer, but Kara had the same gift for rhythm that she had in music and combat both: she did it with exceptional grace.

"You made the shot," she whispered, as the music carried us in a slow circle.

"I made the shot."

"Four hundred meters."

"Give or take."

"You know," she said, tilting her head slightly, "when I looked up at that tower, right before…" She didn't finish the sentence.

"I knew you could do it." I didn't have a response for that. We danced in silence for a while. Her thumb traced a small circle on my shoulder, absentminded, or maybe not. The music swelled and receded, and the rest of the hall faded to a pleasant blur of golden light and distant laughter. The music played on, and the candlelight turned her hair to copper and gold, and for a few minutes that felt like hours, the world shrank to the space between two people who'd fought and died and lived together.

The feast showed no signs of slowing down. By the time the slow dance ended and the music picked back up, the celebration had reached the stage where dignity was an afterthought. Stone had won the drinking contest by a margin of three tankards and was being carried on the shoulders of two soldiers who'd apparently decided he was their new best friend. Verdugo had passed out with his head on the table, snoring contentedly, while Rafael used his unconscious body as an armrest.

I wonder how getting drunk works in this game. And if he's sleeping in the game, does that mean he's asleep in the capsule? So many questions. Athos found us by the window, three drinks deep and grinning wider than I'd ever seen him.

"Level twenty-four," he said, clinking his goblet against mine.

"And a Unique cloak that's going to break the forums today. Not a bad Sunday."

"Not bad at all," I agreed. Lothras appeared from somewhere, carrying a goblet of wine that had somehow stayed full despite the surrounding chaos. The Paladin's usual stoic expression had softened into a rather warm exposure.

"I spoke with Erdin," he said.

"He'll recover fully. The healers expect him back on his feet within the week."

"Good," Kara said.

"Cathe would have burned this city down herself if he hadn't." We laughed, and it was the easy, uncomplicated laughter of people who'd earned it. Four players who'd started as strangers assembled by a traitor, who'd survived dungeons and betrayals and a civil war, and come out the other side as friends. Even Lothras. Athos raised his goblet.

"To Tidemark."

"To the Count," Lothras added.

"To Erdin," Kara said softly. I raised mine last.

"To us." The goblets clinked, and we drank. The music swelled, and the crowd roared as somewhere in the chaos Shieldbreaker was narrating the drinking contest's aftermath with the passion of a man who had found his true calling. The wine was strong, and the night was young. Logging in at 4 pm meant I had plenty of time. We had plenty of time. Tomorrow, new challenges will come. But tonight, we celebrated. I took another drink; the world swayed pleasantly, and I decided, for once, to stop thinking and just be there.

Kara's shoulder pressed against mine. Athos was telling Lothras a joke that was making the Paladin visibly struggle not to laugh. The music played on. It was a good night.