The Investiture Ceremony

The calendar silently turned to October.

More than a week had passed since Fú Nī Yà and Albert’s heated argument.

Throughout that week, the interactions between Fú Nī Yà and Albert dwindled to almost nothing. Even her usual warmth towards Aila had cooled, leaving Aila utterly bewildered and incessantly pestering Albert, desperate to uncover the truth behind their strained relationship.

Albert, however, simply brushed her inquiries aside.

No one understood his sister’s temperament better than he did. While she sometimes projected a mischievous cunning, her heart was, in truth, disarmingly simple and pure. Should she ever learn that their rift stemmed from her, she would undoubtedly grieve for a considerable time.

Meanwhile, Fú Nī Yà had amassed a significant amount of experience during this period, successfully ascending to the third tier.

To reach the third tier in a single month—such a feat was unprecedented in all of history!

Each time Master Valentin witnessed Fú Nī Yà’s remarkable progress, he couldn’t help but feel that his own years of effort had been utterly wasted.

As the days slipped by, the date of Albert’s ennoblement ceremony loomed ever nearer.

On the eighth of October, the royal ceremonial officer himself arrived at Albert’s estate, overseeing the preparations and guiding the arrangements for the upcoming ceremony.

First and foremost, on the eve of the ceremony, Albert was required to cleanse himself meticulously from head to toe—a ritual known as ‘ablution,’ symbolizing the purification of the ennobled’s spirit.

Early the following morning, on the tenth of October, Albert—accompanied by a retinue of family and friends, Fú Nī Yà among them—journeyed in a procession of carriages to the Palace of Palbourg.

Disembarking from their carriages, they entered the palace’s grand hall. As they proceeded, despite the ongoing cold war between them, Fú Nī Yà found a mischievous smirk curling her lips as she gazed at Albert, who walked just ahead.

He was clad in magnificent formal attire, his head adorned with a silver wig—for in Saint Mir City, wigs had become an undeniable symbol of culture and fashion, widely adopted even by the common citizenry. Even artisans who had just begun to ascend into the middle class would don a silver, curly wig for formal gatherings outside of their workshops.

The city teemed with wig shops of every size, and as the Holy Lohiris Empire flourished, this peculiar fashion trend was constantly disseminated to human nations far and wide.

Yet, it was abundantly clear that wearing a wig was no simple feat.

This was particularly true for silver wigs.

Crafting silver wigs from the hair of the elderly was obviously impractical; thus, most silver wigs were dusted with silver powder, and the predictable consequence of wearing such an item on one’s head was quite apparent.

Throughout their journey, Albert repeatedly scratched at his scalp, leaving his hands dusted with a fine layer of silver powder—the very sight that fueled Fú Nī Yà’s suppressed amusement.

Indeed, his frantic ear- and head-scratching bore an uncanny resemblance to a monkey hunting for fleas.

Fú Nī Yà, however, was in a predicament of her own.

She wore the dark evening gown she had purchased during her last outing with Aila, and felt as though she was being squeezed breathless by its confines.

Much like men’s wigs, corsets were a prevailing fashion among women.

Yet, Fú Nī Yà, gasping for air under its oppressive grip, simply could not fathom why she needed to strap on this contraption when her waist was already perfectly slender.

It felt as illogical as a girl reaching a hundred *jin* (TL Note: A traditional Chinese unit of weight, approximately 50 kg or 110 lbs) and still claiming to be fat.

‘This accursed corset!’

The young woman cursed inwardly, unable to suppress her frustration.

****

Within the grand hall, Emperor Uther, resplendent in his ceremonial robes, sat upon the central throne, awaiting the proceedings. Flanking him stood the principal royal officials in neat formation, among them the new Chancellor, the Keeper of the Imperial Seal, and the Treasurer. The expansive space surrounding them was densely populated by nobles, affluent merchants, and other esteemed individuals—or ‘guests,’ as they were more simply called—who were privileged enough to witness the event.

Upon the arrival of the central figure, the symphony orchestra nestled in the corner, which had moments before been weaving a light and sprightly waltz with violins and woodwinds, instantly transitioned. Their melodies swelled into a magnificent, epic composition dominated by resonant horns and crisp snare drums, its majestic grandeur stirring a fervent energy, making one yearn to seize the finest sword and rush forth to slay a dragon.

The crimson carpet, stretching from the entrance to Emperor Uther’s very throne, was, for this solemn moment, reserved solely for Albert. Fú Nī Yà, meanwhile, melted into the throng of guests, finding her place among familiar faces such as Master Valentin, Aila, the venerable butler Wǎ ěr, and Jo.

“Fú Nī Yà~”

Aila stealthily approached the young woman, attempting to whisper something to her.

After all, this was an ennoblement ceremony; boisterous chatter was strictly forbidden.

Fú Nī Yà, however, met Aila’s friendly overture by simply dipping her head and offering a curt bow, her voice formal.

“Good morning, Princess Aila. I wish you a pleasant day.”

She had, after all, steeled herself to sever all ties.

To display any further intimacy with Aila would render her week-long refusal to communicate utterly meaningless.

“Eh…”

Upon hearing Fú Nī Yà’s decidedly formal words, Aila’s face fell with a crestfallen expression.

She wished to speak further, but at that very moment, Albert’s ennoblement ceremony commenced.

In the absolute center of the grand hall, beneath the collective gaze of every guest, Albert slowly knelt before the throne of his father, his liege, Emperor Uther, pressing his palms together and raising them reverently above his head.

The Emperor rose from his throne, his countenance etched with solemnity.

He was clad in a white coat intricately embroidered with gold thread, over which a heavy crimson robe was draped. Upon this robe, a majestic golden double-headed eagle stood emblazoned, its sharp gaze seeming to pierce every individual present.

A brilliant white cloak, woven with threads of gold, lay draped across his shoulders, its foremost edge secured by a solid gold, sun-shaped adornment.

For his lower attire, he wore thick, pure white silk stockings and knee-high riding boots, mirroring the fashion of the other nobles present. However, the leather for his boots was no ordinary hide; it originated from the red copper dragons dwelling within the active volcanoes of the south. These formidable creatures possessed at least ninth-tier strength, a characteristic that imbued their hides with an eternal warmth.

Uther, too, extended his hands, placing them over Albert’s.

This gesture, a typical prayer posture, symbolized the subordinate’s complete submission to their superior.

After several moments of profound silence, Uther’s ancient yet booming voice filled the hall.

“By the grace of His Majesty Pader, I, Uther Hugh Caldwell, Emperor of the Holy Lohiris Empire, Co-Ruler of all Mankind, King of the Lohirians, King of the People of Nigak, Governor-General of the Imperial Central Province, Governor-General of the Imperial Tino Province, Duke of Oris, King of the Kingdoms of Burno and Mogra, Grand Duke of Nilgarata, Duke of Brabant, Duke of Mikent, Count of Zutphen, Count of Roussillon, Protector of the Swan Knights—hereby bestow upon Albert Hugh Caldwell the title of Prince of the Principality of Lusitania. May you defend the Emperor and the Light with both sword and blood!”

‘Lusitania, then…’

From her vantage point in the corner, having endured the Emperor’s lengthy and largely verbose oath, Fú Nī Yà finally ascertained the name of the territory Albert was being ennobled to.

‘I wonder what that place looks like,’ she mused.

On the other side of the ceremony, as Uther concluded his solemn oath, Albert promptly began his own declaration.

“I, Albert Hugh Caldwell, hereby swear unwavering allegiance to the Emperor of the Holy Lohiris Empire and his descendants. I pledge to protect my lands, to shelter my people, and to defend His Majesty Pader and his earthly representatives. When you require my aid, a single horn blast shall suffice, and I shall charge into the fray with my sword… May the Light bless me.”

With this profound oath, a tapestry of mutual rights and obligations was woven between Uther and Albert.

As liege, Uther was entitled to Albert’s tributes and, in times of war, held the right to conscript Albert’s soldiers, all while being bound by the duty to protect his vassal.

Albert, as vassal, wielded all authority within the Principality of Lusitania, encompassing law enforcement, administration, and taxation. In return, he was obligated to pay annual tributes to Uther on schedule and to provide military forces during wartime.

How long these obligations would actually be upheld, however, remained a pertinent question.

After all, the empire was slated for civil strife in just two short years.

Beyond these feudal duties, he was also bound by another crucial obligation: to defend the human pantheon.

The human pantheon, with Pader, the God of Light, as its chief deity, comprised a host of other divinities, including the previously mentioned Orpheus, Goddess of Music; Mitra, Goddess of Knights; Thoth, God of Wisdom; and Hecate, Goddess of Magic. These gods thrived on human faith and, in turn, offered humanity their divine protection.

This world, however, boasted more than just the human pantheon; it was also home to elven, dwarven, draconic, and various other divine lineages.

A single deity did not necessarily belong to only one pantheon; it was common for gods to ‘wear disguises’, a practice most notably exemplified by Thoth, the God of Wisdom, who maintained an alter ego in almost every divine lineage.

His divine power was immense, yet he rarely involved himself in conflicts between deities. Consequently, even when he ‘wore disguises’ across various pantheons, effectively acting as a ‘salary thief’, the chief gods of these major pantheons all grudgingly acknowledged this reality.

The oath, however, did not constitute the entirety of the ennoblement ceremony. Following it, Uther successively bestowed upon Albert a series of symbolic regalia representing his sovereign right over Lusitania: a ceremonial sword, a medal, a sash, a scepter, a family crest, and other such emblems.

With all rituals concluded, the hour had advanced to noon, and the guests, having witnessed the entire lengthy ceremony, were by now utterly famished.

Uther gave a dismissive wave of his hand, and the symphony orchestra in the corner, taking their cue, transitioned back to a more subdued melody. Footmen and maids, who had been patiently waiting in the antechamber, swiftly brought forth long tables, which were then laden with an array of meticulously prepared dishes. In short order, the tables groaned under the weight of an enticing spread of delectable-looking food.

Everyone began to stir, partaking of the food while mingling and conversing with familiar acquaintances.

Emperor Uther, an old man weary from a morning of arduous ceremony, departed the banquet, undoubtedly in dire need of rest.

Albert, however, found no such respite; before he could even begin to relax, he was besieged by a chattering flock of beautiful noble maidens, their incessant clamor making escape an impossibility.

Fú Nī Yà, seizing the opportunity, rushed to the long table to feast. In this brief banquet, Albert was the undeniable protagonist, Aila a prominent supporting character, and she, Fú Nī Yà, merely a forgotten shadow. To not seize this chance to savor the exquisite food would be an utter disservice to herself, especially after enduring a full morning in this dreadful place while constrained by a corset.

‘Wait, corset!?’

Fú Nī Yà’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

As expected, barely two bites in, her stomach already felt impossibly distended.

Yet, she remained ravenously hungry!

‘Damned corset!’

Fú Nī Yà, her face a mask of misery, cursed inwardly.