Birthright: Lord of Arda Page 21
"Yes Lord Waldestein, you are right, Braden come to me."
Braden hesitated, he was being summoned by the King. He had to remember the protocol Page had taught him, when he needed to bow, when to kneel, what to say, how to address him. It was very different being a commoner, than being a Lord. He stepped forward away from Page, he could feel everyone's eyes on him. The lords who had sat at the back were now on their feet.
"Wait, your Majesty, he is still a bastard." Lord Cadare called out.
Braden stopped in his tracks looking back towards him. "
I will handle that if it pleases you your majesty." Lord Waldestein interrupted.
The King nodded to him and he moved out from behind his chair. He circled around the table and past the King stopping in front of Braden. The older man smiled at him, they were of equal height but Waldestein showed that years of nobility had taught him how to carry himself. He motioned for Braden to kneel then Waldestein drew his sword and placed it on Braden’s right shoulder.
"Braden, by the power invested in me by his majesty the King Rupert the Seventh, of Arda, I, Lord Aldrich Waldestein, High Lord of Arda, do knight you, Sir Braden. I charge you to defend the weak and defenceless, to serve your King and your country, to live by honour, to fight for the welfare of all, to keep faith in the darkness and be a light in the world. I throw away your bastardry and return to you, your father’s name. Now rise, Sir Braden Drake, Knight of Arda."
As he spoke Waldestein passed the sword from one shoulder to the other, resting it finally on the crown of Braden’s head before drawing it back into it’s sheath and allowing Braden to stand. The older man smiled and nodded to him, before stepping aside and allowing Braden access to the King. Braden stepped past him and finally approached the throne. The dais was three steps higher than the rest of the room, making the King tower above them all. Standing at the bottom of the steps, he bowed towards the King. After a few seconds, the King asked him to rise and step forward, he took the first two steps shakily, before kneeling at the third. He placed a hand to his side to keep his balance, his mind focused on what Page had told him to do next.
"Your Sword, Sir Drake."
The King’s voice jogged his memory and Braden drew his sword. He kept the point against his body and resting just above his heart as he offered the handle to the King. It was a sign of servitude to prove that his life now belonged to the King. Taking hold of the handle, the King raised the sword to his eye level, he smiled as he recognised the white rose at the hilt, before turning back to Braden who bowed his head. Placing the sword on Braden’s left shoulder, the King spoke loudly to be sure that the whole room could hear.
"Sir Braden Drake, by the power passed to me by my father, King William the third of Arda, I, King Rupert of Arda, recognise your birth-right and heritage as the son of the late Lord Arthon Drake and I grant you the title of your forefathers. Sir Braden Drake, I entitle you Duke of the White Hills, Baron of Loxwood, Earl of Morrwood, High Lord of the Kingdom and Knight of the Realm. Now rise, Braden Drake, Lord of Arda."
THE END (for now)