Gisela knelt before the altar of Naram-Sadai, a richly-decorated stone table carved with saints and supernatural figures. She wore a checked blue and red tunic, a sleeveless white doublet with a goose of goldwork thread embroidered on the breast, a shoulder-length ermine cape, white silk stockings, and a pair of pointed leather shoes. The chapel was mostly empty but for herself, Vulmar, who was standing a few feet behind, and a pair of Royal Guards who waited patiently at the door which led to the palace yard. The chapel was fairly small, and was lit by the last dying rays of sunlight which passed through the beautiful stained glass. A riot of color was cast helter-skelter across the flagstones that made up the floor. But Gisela was too preoccupied to notice the visual display before her.
She was praying, or at least that's what it looked like. Mostly she was just contemplating her activities over the last few days. The day before yesterday she was officially crowned, an event which coincided with the Feast of Saint Clovis the Lawgiver. Much of the city had turned out to see doddering High Priest Pius anoint and crown the new monarch in the Old City, as did the nobility of the Crownlands. Most of the next day she accepted fealty and homage from dozens of lords and ladies of every description. Today she had inspected the Royal Guard, had a brief audience with Lord Mayor Tomas and Metropolitan Razo, and then received the fealty and homage of her recently-assembled regency council. And between all these solemnities, a thousand feasts and a million babbling conversations. Or, so it seemed to Gisela. She was exhausted, not to mention stuffed with food, and were it not for Vulmar guiding her through every obscure ceremony and point of etiquette, she was quite certain she would have collapsed into a swoon before her coronation was even over.
She was unsurprised, then, when she heard her chancellor whispering at her.
“If it pleases Your Grace,” he said softly, leaning over her. “we should make our way to the Hall, now. Your Councilors should not be kept waiting.”
One more feast, Gisela thought wearily, and it's over. Things will be some manner of normal, then. At least for awhile, she hoped.
“Aye, my lord,” she replied, rising to her feet. “I am finished here.”
The young Queen bowed her head slightly toward Vulmar, who gently placed Ruby Crown of Viexmeur on the royal head. The gold and jewels glittered dimly in the gathering darkness. As they then made their way toward the door, the pair of guards lifted their poleaxes and followed after their charge. As she walked across the courtyard, Gisela briefly stopped to consider the shrine that stood on the grass. The slab had been there since time out of mind, and Gisela had heard it predated the construction of the palace around it by more than a century. Naram-Sadai, god of her fathers, crowning Clovis, her ancient forebear. After a brief reflection on religion, she continued walking toward the huge keep that made up most of the palace. Crossing the threshold into the vestibule, she strolled toward the stairwell before taking in the Great Hall.
The places were set on the dais for herself and her councilors. The central seat was accented with gold, and behind it was a banner bearing King Childeric's own personal arms. Artisans were still working on the replacement. She noted with satisfaction, however, that chairs had also been placed Sir Aldrich and Lady Valericka. Though neither were technically members of her Regency Council, she trusted them both and very much intended to include them in business of state. The food was not yet in evidence, however, and Gisela considered that she might not be so overstuffed as she though. Perhaps she could eat, a little at least.
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