Berlic’s expression twisted between confusion and fury, but he quickly suppressed both emotions and forced a smile onto his face.
After letting out a short laugh, he spread one hand toward Elias and said, "That is marvelous. With a Crimson heir, the knight order already makes me feel better than before."
Elias lowered his head slightly, a sneaky smile appearing on his face as he replied, "It is an honor."
Berlic narrowed his violet eyes while studying Elias for several seconds before nodding and slowly settling back into his throne.
This wasn’t what he had expected.
He had been certain Elias would refuse.
The young man had been publicly humiliated, insulted, and placed in a position where accepting the offer would make him responsible for an entire knight order.
He had expected him to understand the danger and choose the easier path. Instead, the bastard had accepted without hesitation.
Berlic’s fingers rested against the arm of his throne as he watched Elias from a distance.
’He simply accepted his death,’ Berlic thought, his forced smile remaining in place.
That realization should have been enough to satisfy him.
His primary objective had always been to get rid of Elias, and if the bastard willingly walked into the trap himself, there was little reason for Berlic to complain. Still, something about Elias’s expression bothered him.
’What is making you so confident?’ Berlic wondered, narrowing his eyes slightly.
For now, however, he had to put those thoughts aside. The inauguration had only just begun, and there were dozens of guests watching his every movement.
Berlic straightened himself before placing his sword horizontally across his lap. He then raised both hands and clapped once.
The sharp sound echoed throughout the hall.
The murmurs immediately faded as everyone turned toward the City Lord.
Berlic nodded and announced, "Let the ceremony begin."
The moment his words ended, Elias moved away, and soft footsteps sounded from the left side of the hall.
Three women slowly emerged from behind a set of curtains.
They wore long gowns of red, blue, and silver, respectively, with each dress flowing elegantly across the floor as they walked toward the raised platform. Their faces were completely hidden behind thin veils that matched the colors of their garments, making their identities impossible to distinguish.
The red-clad woman walked on the right.
A sword symbol had been embroidered across the back of her gown, its sharp outline clearly visible whenever the fabric shifted.
The woman in blue walked in the center.
A globe had been stitched onto the back of her gown, representing the vastness and mysteries of magic.
The silver-clad woman walked on the left.
A radiant sun decorated her back, its numerous rays spreading across the fabric.
As they walked, the three women softly mumbled a traditional poem beneath their veils.
"The first flame gave birth to steel, the first breath awakened the arcane sea, the first light opened the path beyond the flesh..."
Their voices remained quiet, almost blending as they continued toward the platform.
"Steel to guard, arcana to reveal, spirit to ascend; three paths beneath one heaven, three blessings upon one ruler..."
The guests remained silent as the women approached.
Each woman carried a bronze cup in both hands, and each cup was filled with a strange liquid that possessed the same color as the woman’s attire.
Elias watched them carefully.
He had never witnessed a City Lord’s inauguration before, so even though he had heard about the three major paths of power, seeing their symbols represented this clearly was still interesting.
Throughout the Dracarian Kingdom, it was believed that a ruler could never truly become great without receiving the blessings of all three paths.
The three paths had developed independently for generations, and although their practitioners often competed for influence, every major ruler was expected to maintain good relations with all of them.
For that reason, women were traditionally chosen to serve as the avatars of the three paths during important ceremonies.
Women were considered purer than men, who were more closely associated with warfare and the bloodshed that came with ruling battlefields.
Even a City Lord had to follow this tradition.
The three avatars eventually reached the platform.
Berlic immediately rose from his throne.
He put his sword aside, placed his hands together in front of him, shaping them into a bowl, and lowered his head until his mouth rested near the end of his joined hands.
The three women stood before him and then raised their bronze cups.
Their voices emerged together, softer than before but carrying clearly throughout the hall.
"The First Men, the Dragon of Dawn, the Mistress of Death, the Messiah of Light, the Monarch of Night, the Slaughterer of Winter, the Wolf of Moon and Sun, the Spider of Old Woods..."
As they chanted, they simultaneously tilted their cups.
Three streams of liquid began falling into Berlic’s cupped hands.
The liquids flowed together, and faint fog immediately escaped from the mixture.
The liquid was known as the Dew of First Men.
It was one of the most sacred substances associated with the three paths and was collected from the holy lands belonging to each of them.
Holy lands were believed to be the locations where the first beings of the respective paths had been born, and ancient treasures within those lands continuously produced the dew.
The substance was regarded as no different from holy water.
Berlic’s hands trembled slightly beneath the combined weight of the three liquids as the fog thickened around his fingers.
Within a few seconds, the liquid transformed into a brilliant purple.
It looked almost like a miniature cosmos had formed within Berlic’s hands, with faint points of light shimmering inside the purple substance.
The chanting stopped.
Berlic slightly lifted his hands and drank the entire mixture.
For several moments, nothing happened.
Every guest watched Berlic with bated breath.
Then Berlic’s body stiffened.
His violet eyes slowly became foggy, and his head tilted slightly backward.
His lips moved.
"El... gha..."
The sound was barely understandable.
His fingers twitched as he continued mumbling.
"Na... vel... orra... thae... umm..."
The words became increasingly incomprehensible, slipping between strange syllables that seemed to have no connection to any language Elias knew.
"Vea... sa... ra... men... dha..."
Berlic’s voice gradually grew quieter until he was merely whispering incomprehensible sounds beneath his breath.
Elias stared at him, and his brows slowly drew together.
Berlic continued mumbling for several more moments, his eyes remaining unfocused as though he were staring at something that none of the other people in the hall could see.
"Thra... vel... gra... en..."
The three avatars stood motionless before him, their veiled faces giving away nothing.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, Berlic’s eyes cleared.
His pupils returned to normal, and he blinked several times before slowly looking around the hall.
He appeared to have regained control of himself.
The three women raised their bronze cups toward the ceiling and spoke simultaneously.
"You have risen, Lord Berlic! Guide Kilmir City to greatness!"
Berlic slowly stood, retrieved his sword from the platform, and rested it against his shoulder before a confident smile returned to his face, and he said, "I will make sure to do so."
The hall erupted into applause.
Guests cheered, merchants raised their voices in support, and several nobles clapped enthusiastically while praising the newly inaugurated City Lord.
"Long live Lord Berlic!"
"May Kilmir prosper beneath your rule!"
"May the City Lord guide us through these troubled times!"
The atmosphere immediately became lively.
Elias, however, remained silent.
His gaze stayed fixed on Berlic, his brows furrowed slightly.
’Velghora... what does that mean?’ He asked himself.