Meeting Hall, Nanking Palace
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At the exact moment that the sun set the palace grounds began to echo with the haunting music of the pre ceremony. In contrast to the day before, when the palace had been celebrating the coming of age of their prince, the air now felt somber and thick. As if the memory of the dead emperor before were a palpable presence.

Crown Prince Ling, now an adult at 100, was garbed royally in the lavish robes of an Emperor of Xi'an. The future ruler, clothed heavily in a rainbow of silks, was already greeting guests at the door in his usual passive demeanor. He'd lost track of the guests by now, having not even bothered to learn the guest list. Most of them were just there for political reasons anyway, especially the squabbling nobles all trying to inch closer to him and showering him with enough flattery he felt ill.

This was just the start of the lengthy process, and already he was ready to light up to deal with it. Even a saint lacked the patience to stand in place for two hours thanking people for attending, as if they'd had a choice.

On the stage was a funeral pyre, to symbolise the now long dead former emperor. A vivid reminder that Xi'ans throne had lay empty for three years, since an assassin had poisoned his father. He'd been to young to take official power, but now he was a man. A man who would soon symbolically extinguish the fires of mourning.