Chapter 42 – A Perfect Day
The sun shone brightly over the green fields. Clouds dappled the sky giving just enough light and shade to create a pleasant temperature. Waves lapped the nearby shore quietly and gently, a sonorous background to pleasant conversation. The air had just enough of a breeze in it to keep everything fresh. It was the perfect day for a wedding.
And that was no coincidence.
Winter stood, formally attired, just outside the main gathering area. He bounced lightly on his feet. Part in nervousness, part to remind himself he wasn't swimming, and partly in the novelty of the green springy stuff underfoot. It wasn't quite grass, but it wasn't quite lichen either. It had been a gift from his mother, and the Scioni Institute of Magic. It had first been developed as part of research to green the outer waste, in preparation for the restoration of the souls of the divine realm to the mortal realm. Here it had been used to cover the bare rock of the islands that had been raised.
His islands. His kingdom. Not one he borrowed. Not one he was the caretaker of. His own.
And the land itself had been a gift. The surviving gods of the Romitu, Sindhu and Kemet had decided to make good faith reparations for the actions of the first gods. Generous donations of mana and divine magic did the work of raising Norsland from the waters.
Balanoptera fidgeted nearby. All animosity had vanished between him and Winter. They had both grown up a bit and discovered what they held in common was greater than what they held in opposition.
The last few months had been fraught with difficult, delicate, diplomatic decisions. How would Winter rule both Norsland and the Northern Seas? Was it fair for them to be one kingdom? But he was only the caretaker of the Northern Seas. When the rightful ruler claimed the throne, what of Norsland?
But Balanoptera had made things much easier. For his actions as Winter's champion, General Porterhouse had offered him a commission as an officer in the 22nd army. This proved far more appealing to Balanoptera than ruling. He gladly waved any right he had to the realm.
But much easier was still not easy. Balanoptera's abdication did not make Winter's rule permanent, as his fostership was due to end soon. Atlantica made it clear that it would be unfair for him to resume the throne, even just in name. His duties were now much wider and he could not give the attention to the people of the Northern Seas what they deserved. He suggested that the people of the Northern Seas choose a new ruler themselves.
With Atlantica's blessing, this solution was embraced by all. There was much discussion in court. A number of conversations were had, both public and private, but it was pretty clear in the end that there was really only one candidate acceptable to all the people of the Northern Seas.
And here, now, she arrived: Cindarina, Surge of the Northern Seas. With a fanfare of waves she and her Triton guards approached the gathering from the surf line. Behind her came the guests from the Underwater, fashioned with magics so they could mingle with those of the surface. But, for the most part, they stayed on the part of the beach kept wet by the rolling waves.
Balanoptera smiled at Winter; an honest genuine smile. Not something Winter saw that often. He settled his dress uniform; studded with the medals the Orcs were so fond of giving and receiving. He strode before Winter, his champion once again for the day.
With him went the banner bearers. First the one for the Northern Seas. Winter had kept the white A rune on the black background. To his surprise Arnhvatr had chosen to be reincarnated. In the end, it was eternal peace he desired above all else. Winter had specifically emplaced his soul within Cindarina. Both for honor, and so he could keep an eye on the lands his actions had made possible.
Following that banner was the red and gold banner of Romitu. The very first thing Winter and Cindarina had decided was to beseech Romitu to accept them as territories of the Romitu empire. Queen Jesca was quite amused, these being the first territories ever, for either the first or second empire, to join without being conquered. She quite happily accepted.
Finally came the standard of the 2nd army. It had been disbanded hundreds of years ago, but its icon had remained in the Romitu treasury since then. When Winter accepted the service of the Forsaken who wished to fight, he offered them as troops to Queen Jesca. She reconstituted the 2nd army and made it their own. Only a token number of them turned up for these celebrations, though. They picked their fate because they were focused on one thing. And this wasn't it.
Once the banners were in place, the trumpets blared a fanfare. Winter, himself, strode out. He looked over the faces turned towards him. Monarchs, Generals, Mages, and even several Gods were all here. He had a strong suspicion that never, in the history of this world, had there been such a gathering. He looked up, at the wheeling seabirds overhead, and wondered if one of them was actually a swan. And, if so, whether the Grey Elf, one of the creators of the world, considered it a uniquely different enough event to save their world.
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