Falco's Reign - Part 1

A dozen Varangian guards in full battle dress were waiting stoically. Miranda Alanis, champion of prince Falco Adler and therefore by definition captain of the Varangians, was among them. It was rather cold in this chamber and they were all wearing their red cloaks. Miranda looked at the young man who was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the door.
“Nervous?” she asked.
Without taking his eyes of the door, Falco replied: “Do I look nervous?”
“No, but you’ve put on your ‘inscrutable’ face, which means you don’t want people to know what you’re feeling, which in turn means, you’re probably feeling nervous.”
“Oh, shut up!”
“I’m just asking because if you’re nervous, I don’t want to add to that by telling you the latest news.”
“What latest news?”
“Are you sure you’re not too nervous?”
“Stop teasing and just tell me!”
“Alright, mister ‘I’m not nervous’. Frederik’s wife arrived late yesterday evening.”
“What?! Princess Irena?”
“Yep!”
“Fenrir’s Fangs!”
“I thought you would find that interesting. I heard Frederik was surprised but quite happy when she arrived.”
“I bet he was,” Falco mumbled. “Gods! When is this thing going to start!? Maybe we’ve missed our cue and now I’ll be late for my own execution!”
“Nice thing to say! Especially considering the second part!”
“That’s not the part I was talking about,” he grinned.
The solemn sound of horns suddenly filled the air.
“That’s our cue!” Falco said. “Let’s go and get this over with!”

The Varangians opened the door. They walked through a short corridor that ended in an antechamber with two colossal monumental doors in opposite directions. Falco looked at the one to his right and smiled mischievously.
“No, not that one!” Miranda said sternly. “That one leads outside. Behave yourself for once in your life!”
Falco shrugged and, preceded by four Varangians, walked to the door on the left. The Varangians opened it and they entered the huge hall of the temple of Odin. It was filled with people; nobles, foreign representatives, patricians, wealthy merchants, a significant number of commoners and, for the first time in history, a griffin. The aisle was kept free by a long double row of Varangian Guards, holding spears. On the other side of the temple, near the altar, stood half a dozen priests, led by the high priest of Odin himself. Calvin Rotis was there as well.

Surrounded by Miranda and her men, he walked forward. The double line of Varangians began to thump the shafts of their spears rhythmically against the floor. Falco felt slightly intimidated, walking the length of the entire hall in total silence, except for the eerie thumping of the spears. Near the altar, he saw many familiar faces; his loyal friends. But not all of them were there. Halem and Narvi were smiling and winking at him. When he climbed the dais to the altar, the thumping stopped. The high priest stepped forward and raised his hands solemnly. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Falco Adler, prince of Vestfjor and prince of Griffnar. Son of jarl Karl Adler, grandson of Jarl Werner Adler, descendant of lord Ingram Adler, who first set foot on the shores of the Great Fjord and built the Adlerburg.”
“Why have you come before us?”
“To claim what is rightfully mine! The rule of the realm of Vestfjor and the city of Griffnar. I claim the title of jarl.”
“We see your heritage and hear your claim. Is there anybody present who disputes what has been demanded here today?”
The high priest gazed in the great hall. Miranda ostentatiously stepped forward and turned towards the hall as well, her hand on the hilt of her sword. As a champion, she made it clear that whoever would dare to object to Falco’s claim, would have to deal with her. Of course, this was mostly just ceremonial. Nobody had disputed the claim of a son of a jarl in many years. Still, it had happened before, with particularly weak sons of jarls. But as Falco was not exactly considered weak, nobody moved or said anything.
The high priest continued: “As nobody steps forward to dispute this rightful claim, let us accept this prince!” He nodded and from the right, count Falkhorst stepped forward, carrying the simple, silver, rune engraved headband, that represented the authority of the jarl of Vestfjor. He solemnly handed it over to the high priest.
“Kneel before the gods,” the high priest said, “and receive what is rightfully yours.”
Falco sank on one knee. The high priest held the headband with both hands above the boy’s head and declared in a thundering voice; “With the blessing of Odin Allfather, the recognition of the lords and patricians and the respect and obedience of the commoners, I hereby declare Falco Adler, son of Karl Adler, rightful jarl of Vestfjor! Rise and be recognized, lord Falco, Jarl of Vestfjor, Black Prince of Griffnar, Bane of the undead!”
Falco stood up and faced the temple. The crowd burst into cheering. Falco waved at them a little awkward. He glanced to his side and gestured Frederik closer. When the count reluctantly obeyed, the boy grabbed his hand and lifted it high in the air, which made the people cheer even louder. It seemed like it would never end. When it eventually started to die down, the high priest retreated to the background and Calvin Rotis stepped forward. The crowd fell silent as he cleared his throat.
“We now have a new, worthy and rightful jarl,” he said. “Something which has made all of us very happy. But now it’s time to make sure our new jarl will be happy as well. And therefore, this coronation ceremony will be followed by another one. One that will entail even more responsibilities than being a jarl!”
The crowd laughed a little, while Frederik slapped Falco in a fatherly gesture on his shoulder and then quickly stepped back. The main doors of the temple opened once more and this time, only two people entered. Anya Thorolfson, accompanied by her father, Eric. The crowd gasped when they saw the beauty of the girl. Her blond hair fell freely on her shoulders and she was wearing a circlet on her head, somewhat similar to the crown, Falco now wore. On her chest, she wore the jewel Falco had given her, back in Waessyex. Dressed in the best, white furs against the cold and a magnificent light blue dress, she looked more noble, more regal and more beautiful than she had ever done before.    
As she and her father walked along the aisle in a reverend, admiring silence, Miranda glanced at Falco and smiled. She had never seen him more genuinely happy than today. Eric escorted his daughter to the dais and left her at Falco’s side. The two youngsters’ fingers quickly intertwined. Calvin nodded almost unnoticeable and from the left, Arno, dressed in his finest noble garments (with lots of fur for the cold) stepped forward, carrying a little pillow with a silk red ribbon. Calvin smiled at the young couple. He seemed almost as happy and proud as they were themselves. Taking the silk ribbon from the pillow, he said:
“I have known lord Falco all of his life and I can tell you there is no kinder, more loyal or more courageous man in the world. Lady Anya, I have only met after the Battle of the Triple Trap, but from the very start I was amazed by her beauty, her wisdom, her noble demeanor and appearance. Truly, no noble woman in the world would be more fit to become the wife of the jarl of Vestfjor. From the very beginning, it was clear to me that nobody would ever be able to drive these two apart, not even the gods or worldly politics.
And therefore, today, we are her to witness how they make formal, what all who knew them, already suspected from the beginning. Hold up one hand each,” he ordered them. “Lord Falco, do you accept lady Anya as your wife, to love and protect, to counsel and comfort, to share your worldly possessions and bring forth children to continue your name and lineage throughout the ages?”
“I do.” Falco said, with a big smile on his face.
“And lady Anya, do you accept lord Falco to love and protect, to counsel and comfort, to share your worldly possessions and bring forth children to continue his name and lineage throughout the ages?”
“I do,” she replied with an even bigger smile.
“Will you both remain loyal to these vows, even when the days grow dark and the food grows scarce?”
“We will,” they both replied.
“Then,” Calvin said, as he tied their wrists together with the ribbon, “I beseech Thor to protect the family you have formed and Freyr and Freya to bless your marriage with many children. Before the gods and the people in this temple, I now declare you husband and wife! Give her a kiss, kid!”
Falco and Anya embraced and kissed, as the crowd once more burst into cheering. Forgetting her role for a moment, Miranda stepped forward and warmly hugged and congratulated the young newly weds. Following her example, their friends, Halem, Narvi, Erwin, Eric, Frederik, Talisin and Arno  stormed the dais and did the same.
They walked in triumph through the temple and into the snow covered streets, back to the Adlerburg.
“Well, nobody will tear us apart again,” Falco said to Anya. “Unless we do it ourselves and I don’t intend to do that.”
“Neither do I, my sweet farm boy,” Anya replied, using the old nickname she had given him in Jotunheim. The people seem to be very happy!”
“Of course. They will be celebrating for the next seven days. We’ll probably have a few funerals at the end of the celebrations as well.”
“Don’t be so morbid.” Anya said. “They will enjoy themselves, as we will.”
“I’m very happy, but I still feel we should have waited until your grandfather and the rest of your family had returned.”
“Grandfather wrote to me not to wait for him,” Anya replied, “so don’t worry about that. Crossing the Citadel Mountains in winter would be madness and by the time he gets here, it would nearly have been summer! It would have been a long wait.”
“He wanted us to marry as soon as possible, didn’t he? Well, I don’t blame him. I wanted the same! Now, let’s get celebrating!”
“Don’t celebrate too hard,” Frederik, who was walking right behind them, said. “The first two or three days, they won’t bother you, but after that, you’ll be mixing pleasure with business.”
“You really think so?” Falco asked.
“Of course. Celebrations often end up in negotiations. Don’t worry. You’ll do fine. And I’m still around as well for any advice you want.”
“Good. Ehm … where’s your wife?”
“Irena? She was in the temple, but she will be greeting and congratulating you both formally during the celebrations in the Adlerburg.”
“Oh, I see. I’m … looking forward to it,” Falco said.
“Not too much, I hope,” Anya mumbled, pinching him rather hard in the arm.
“I love you,” Falco quickly said and kissed her on the mouth.