A cruel wind rustled the leaves which lay thick upon the forest floor, their vivid golds and reds now faded to black and withering as they writhed amongst the rotting stumps of the once grand trees. Beneath the leaden skies only the occasional cawing of the black birds which darted back and forth between the decay disturbed the deafening monotony of the seemingly constant storm and crackling of the leaves. Towering above the scenes of decline stood a mass of grey rock which cast a shadow over the surrounding woodland: Mount Octavia. The mountain kept a solemn watch over the unchanging landscape, the frequent storms thrashing rain down upon its cold surface around which the black clouds swirled. Casting constant darkness on the land below.
In this uninhabited landscape very few people were seen, the odd travelled hurrying through now and then eager to leave the gloom, however on this day figures were moving slowly amongst the trunks of the ancient trees. From all directions small bands of men came, making for a pile of mossy stone at the foot of the mountain. On horseback the travellers emerged from the shadow of the thin canopy, their hoods raised against the incessant rain, and gathered around the ruins.
The growing group dismounted and stood in silence, seven bands in all each with a leader who stood side by side with the others facing the stone surface of the mountain which loomed above them. The remaining men gathered up behind their captain, one from each group holding high a dark banner which was entirely indistinguishable due to saturation which it had received on the long journey. The silence remained unbroken as the mass of people waited intently, eventually hurried footsteps were heard and a eight particularly ragged group emerged from the forest.
“Late again are we, Earl Henry?” King Jeremy II asked with a grin as he turned and lowered his hood. “Easy for you to say” Henry retorted “I’ve had to drive here from Keltia while you lot have private jets!” By now the rest of the group of captains had turned and were laughing and talking amongst themselves as if they were old friends who had been apart for too long. As hood after hood was lowered King Jeremy II, Earl Henry, Sahib Jahandar Khan, Theodoric Cyning, Yeremiah Bet Sarqis, Friedrich Ludendorff and Juliaj Yaqinsen were all revealed to be present and more or less intact after their long journey which had bought them to central Benacia.
The voices of the reunited family drifted through the forest for nearly an hour before a sudden thump ended the festivities. One of the accompanying guards had passed out from the long period of standing at attention and the Riponian flag lay sprawled alongside it’s bearer on the damp leaves of the floor of the clearing. “Ah yes, the matter at hand.” Jeremy II announced suddenly, remembering finally what had bought them there in the first place. “We are all agreed then, that this world is no longer what we desire and that the time to move on has long passed?” The others muttered their approval and so the ceremony began.
The eight men, now re-hooded, formed into a circle where they stood in silence seemingly lost in deep thought. Suddenly however, and in inexplicable unity, eight swords scraped from eight scabbards: each blade glowing an identical blue in the darkness of the unending night. Soon the swords were raised so the tips rested on each other, each blade baring a mark of “JIP” and identical in every way. “For the King of the mountain!” the leaders chanted in unison before silence was once more restored. Then a high whistle pierced the air, drifting through the dead wilderness. A lone raven answered the call, flying from the canopy and coming to a rest on the arm of King Jeremy II who seemed unconcerned by the mysterious behaviour of an apparently wild animal.
The former monarch then uttered a single quiet word before the bird once more took flight, the black figure souring upwards getting smaller and smaller until it vanished into the darkness and was gone. The guards looked slightly bemused as their leaders re-sheathed their swords and watched the blank rock face, however their confusion soon turned to disbelief as a crack appeared in the stone revealing a dark space behind. Slowly but steadily the crack increased and soon a gaping door stood where before there had been nothing amongst the mossy ruin, at this point each captain approached their escorts and took their banner “You are freed from our service” Jeremy II announced “you may return home now and tell the world of our departure so that they may remember our works untarnished, however you must never reveal what you have seen here today: or else” the old King said the last words with a grin and a wink before turning and leading his relations towards the newly created chasm in the mountainside.
One by one the banners and their owners disappeared into the shadows of the carved arch and disappeared, as the last man (Theodoric Cyning) was out of sight the door began to move once more and much to the guards astonishment it was soon gone entirely and not a mark could be seen to betray its previous location. After a few moments of confusion the escorts took the King’s advice and hurryingly began the journey home, passing back through the woodland through which they had come. As the guards of Friedrich Ludendorff looked back at the then distant lone mountain they noticed the sun had broken through the clouds and fell upon the grey stone. And indeed it had, golden light lay across the cold rock and filled the halls of Octavia with splendour once more, illuminating the Royal standard upon the tower and 8 glowing swords which now lay around a single mighty tomb in the long silent passages of Octavia.
Friday 26 October 2007
Sunday 3 June 2007
The burial of King Jeremy I
King Jeremy I body had been exhumed prior to the creation of the new mountain palace and it was to be moved to rest in untainted glory in the feasting halls of Octavia along with many of the great works of his time. The current King Jeremy watched as the tomb in Emyn Arnen was opened and the undamaged coffin was lifted out and placed on a carriage. Many members of the public had gathered along the streets towards the edge of the city and in a repeat of the deceased King’s funeral, flowers were thrown beneath the feet of two great black horses as they bore their precious cargo towards the city gates. Following the coffin came a precession of living Royals who were to spend a while inside the new palace when the body had been laid to rest for good.
As they reached the city gatehouse many people cast their eyes to the statue of King Jeremy I which still stood inside the gates, his sword held aloft as if in defiance to his death and the stone eyes of the seemed to glint in the first rays of morning sun. Soon the column reached the gates and passed over the city bridge and move into the wilderness beyond before transfering into cars.
After several hours the procession reached the borders of the forest of Lóthlorien in which cars were banned, so all who were going to the mountain exited their cars and mounted a number of waiting horses. The King rode upon a large white steed behind the banner carriers as they made their way towards the wall of trees before them, the slow moving funeral carriage came behind. As they passed under the canopy they were confronted by nature in all its glory, it was autumn and all the leaves had turned various shades of beautiful gold and some had fallen to the floor making a carpet of vivid colour.
The trunks of the trees were a shade of light grey which seemed to be like pillars between the golden carpet and the equally magnificent ceiling. The horses passed almost silently along the winding paths, the banners flying lightly in the slight breeze which penetrated the canopy causing occasional flakes of gold to fall from the leaves. As the party moved forwards they travelled steadily upwards, passing over small stone bridges which spanned swift streams.
Birds sung gloriously in the branches of the trees (although only ravens could be seen, flying swiftly back and forth between the trees) as the late summer sun beat down casting golden light down upon the travellers who were in high spirits as they travelled deeper and deeper into the woods. This area of New Brittania was largely unpopulated and so unaffected by the pollution and crime of the cities; however this didn’t stop the royal guard’s hand twitching towards their holsters whenever an out of the ordinary noise was heard. After a few hours the canopy began to thin out again slightly, much to the relief of the guards who now began to relax again.
However as the group came close to the forests end they began to catch glimpses of the now nearby mountains which loomed ominously above them. Eventually the party entered a clearing and before them a large cliff stood, at the base of which a castle appeared to jut out from the stone.
The group hurried forward and dismounted before passing into the castle through a pair of large oak doors. They then founded themselves in an airy hallway with a number of doors going off of it on either side, and there opposite them stood a gaping hole in the solid rock with colossal stone doors on each side. A number of nobles having received the Royal summons to the funeral exited a lounge on the left and joined his majesty in the hall to finalise the arrangements; however they didn’t loiter there for long or rest from their travels.
Soon the King led them from the bright corridor towards the black hole in the Cliffside, as the group approached many began to worry about what would happen when they passed inside however their love of the dead King kept them moving forward with a number of marines now carrying the Royal Coffin. One by one the nobles passed inside the mountain into a dimly lit tunnel, they then stopped and turned to face the door through which they had come. The noise of engines could dimly be heard from a nearby guard room deeper inside the mountain and overhead chains began to clank. Slowly but steadily the great doors began to close and many of the lords gazed longingly at the bright sunlight before the doors halted and not even a crack of light could be seen in the surface.
The King then turned his back on the doorway and began to walk in the opposite direction with the coffin bearers behind him down the tunnel which was lit only by flaming torches on the walls. From the outside no trace could now be seen of the doors nor could they be opened but from the inside. Many of the people who had watched the doors close now rubbed their hand along the cliff face and could find not even a bump to show where the doors had been. In fact the only time any trace of the door could be seen was when the stone was scorched, and then a message could faintly be viewed upon the surface. It read “To enter, seek that which is black, master of the skies. Speak peace to him and no other lies. He may then set forth to the mountain halls and open the chasm in the walls.” Soon however the moisture from the rock would remove the scorch marks leaving nothing to be seen.
The Royal party meanwhile moved slowly along the wide corridors, no one spoke as they trudged on leaving the outside world behind them. The King walked in the front of the group gazing along the wide passage towards a dim light in the distance, following behind were several other dignitaries who were by now already re-evaluating the wisdom of following their King on this occasion and glancing around nervously at the blandness of the new palace which was to be the resting place of King Jeremy I.
These corridors were by no means dull, many wall hangings hung on the black stone on either side of them and numerous torches lit the way along the highly polished floor. They could however be forgiven for thinking that the decoration was somewhat repetitive, they had walked over a mile since they left the entrance hall and no major change in surrounding s could be noted. After a while several of the nobles began to talk amongst themselves, mainly about the palace they were now in and how long they would have to stay there without seeing the light of day.
One of the Lords however seemed to trust the Kings judgement on the matter implicitly. He was a particularly tall, grim faced gentleman known as Lord Pickford. He had been in the Kings service since he first ascended the throne and advised the other nobles that he had followed the Kings of New Brittania since the nations beginning and they had yet to lead him to any ill. Pickford certainly showed signs of his long life, his face bore deep wrinkles which seemed as old as erosions in the desert, however his eyes remained young and were a vivid blue matched by the long cloak which trailed behind him.
Several more minutes passed with just the sound of footsteps in the tunnels to break the deafening silence, however soon a distant sound was heard. Heavenly music was drifting down the corridor from afar and the lords raised their heads and for the first time noticed the light which the King had long been looking towards. The music seemed to remove all weariness from their feet and the congregation once more moved swiftly forward, Pickford smiled to himself for never doubting his majesty where others had. With every step they took towards the tunnels end the sweet music got louder and louder as it washed over them, the coffin bearers with the burden particularly enjoyed this distraction from the pain in their shoulders.
Not much time had passed before the light was close by and the nobles had reached a high ornate arch which they passed through without delay. As the lords and the coffin entered the next chamber they were dazzled by the bright light which seemed unbearable after the long dark, however their eyes soon readjusted and several mouths fell open as they took in the glory which was before them.
The King then spoke for the first time since he entered the complex, his voice boomed out around the stone walls: “Welcome my lords, to the Palace of Octavia! Resting place of Kings.” There before them gigantic columns of intricately carved stone towered over the group, each column was immeasurably high and seemed to have been carved out of the mountain itself. Every pillar rose flawless from the vast spotless floor up and up before it met an elaborately decorated arch which linked to it its neighbours on all sides. Several of the lords gasped at the sight, hundreds of these columns lined up perfectly as far as the eye could see, each as high as a small skyscraper and carved so delicately as to be beyond fault.
The King led the party down a short flight of broad stairs which led down to the floor of the great hall from the tunnel down which they had come, as they reached the bottom of the steps they saw that between the pillars hundreds of beams of golden light were pouring in from windows high above. The light dispersed across the polished floor leaving no part of the hall in shadow, and from some distant gallery the sound of as yet unknown instruments filled every corner of the cavernous room.
The party soon began walking again with increased vigour down the central row of columns, each of them filled with a curiosity which gave haste to their journey. As they moved off many of the lords craned their necks upwards to see the arches at the dizzying height above them or strained their eyes forward to see the far end of the chamber in the direction they were heading. For the coffin bearers looking around was particularly hazardous as any move of the neck or shoulder caused the coffin to slip dangerously. However it was nearly three quarters of an hour before the chambers contents became clear; there against the back wall stood the throne of the King atop of number of untarnished white stone steps. A red carpet ran from the high seat, down the steps and part of the way along the magnificent chamber to where the congregation had now stopped to gaze in awe.
A single shaft of golden light shone down from some distant opening onto the throne itself which was flanked by statues of the Kings of old set against vivid red and gold wall hangings which bore the royal arms. Now the source of the angelic music also become clear, in a high gallery on the left several musicians were strumming the strings of various harps of silver and gold the sound of which could be heard throughout the mountain halls.
Slowly the King ascended the steps to his throne and sat down. The sun glinted off his long scarlet cloak, the many items of jewellery and the small crown he was wearing. The lords quickly bowed low and shouted as one, “God save the King!”
In the interest of humanity the group were given an hours rest from their long journey in which the coffin was laid with care up the throne's steps and servants bought out drinks and food from the kitchens which were in a chamber behind the throne itself. However many of the nobles thought the rest had not been nearly long enough and soon they were being ushered into a chamber in the far corner of the vast hall which appeared dark and cramped compared to the cavernous room they were leaving . They entered the small chamber and within found a high white marble tomb illuminated by natural light from a hole in the mountainside above, the tomb was carved with the images of the natural world outside and all around it were stacked piles of jewels and gold objects (however this stash was rumoured to be tiny in comparison to those in the caves below.) The coffin was lifted onto the top of the tomb and lowered inside before the monsterously heavy lid bearing a statue of the deceased King lying in rest was slid into place finally sealing the dead King's resting place. The noise of the harps outside continued to drift in as wreaths were laid on the cold stone and the group stood silently, lost in recollections of their former King. However time pressed on so soon the party proceeded with regret back out into the main hall and were once more blown away by its vast scale and amazing detail.
After this the Lords were shown to their quarters where they would be staying until their departure, many of them were given spacious accommodation on the upper floors although some of the more irritating nobles found themselves alone in a dark cave in the deeper areas of the complex. In the intervening time between the funeral and the departure date the King spent much of the long days upon his throne advising various visitors from various areas of his realm on matters of state. After a while however he soon became tired of this and eager to visit the Royal tower which he had never before seen but had heard much about.
The Royal tower of Octavia was a stone structure on the very peak of Mount Octavian above which the Royal colours flew. To allow people to reach the tower from the chambers below a spiral staircase of uncountable steps rose from the lowest dungeon to the distant summit. This is where the King now trod, taking step after step upwards for hours on end. His Majesty and his personal guard struggled to keep themselves moving after step after step passed by, none of them wide enough to allow them to sit down and rest comfortable for any length of time. Over 4 hours of constant climbing had gone by and still the King had not reached the top, some of the guards began to doubt they ever would and feared the stairs went on forever.
No windows lit the stairway so only the light of many torches stood between the King and a seemingly never ending fall. However through much care and a tight grip on the hand rail the King and his guards finally reached the base of the tower and collapsed exhausted onto a number of well place chairs. These armchairs were placed around a roaring fire in the middle of a wide circular room almost entirely surrounded by windows. Had the congregation looked outside they would have seen a truly awesome sight, the vast blue sky stretching out to the horizon and below them several bushy white clouds reflected the sun’s rays making them appear to be made of golden cotton wool.
However the King and his party were much too occupied crowding around the fire to keep warm at such a high altitude to look and after removing their shoes and gazing in mild horror at the poor condition they were in they one by one they drifted off to sleep. The King was first to wake the next day as the early shafts of sunlight crept into the tower, as he sat up he saw all of his guards still asleep around him: “so much for protection” he muttered to himself although he appreciated they were probably in one of the safest places possible. After the guards were roused and breakfast had been served in the kitchens not too far below, the Royal party finally climbed the last few flights of stairs to the top of the tower.
As the leading guard pushed the door open they were struck by a wall of ice cold air, the group quickly drew their cloaks close around them and stepped outside. They found themselves stood on a large stone ledge surrounded by a low wall and beyond there seemed to be oblivion. The party stood for a moment gazing around, above them the yellow and blue Royal standard was flying in the stiff winds and higher even than that the vast blue canopy of the early morning sky stretched out endlessly.
Eventually the King plucked up the courage to walk across the frozen stone to the wall, as he cast his eyes down they passed the snow capped peaks of lesser mountains before his gaze rested on the fluffy white carpet of cloud. “Must be cloudy down below” he thought to himself after noticing how completely unbroken the cloud was, despite this the sun was shining on the carved stone of the tower as the group looked in every direction at the world far below them. Unfortunately however oxygen was running short outside in the cold and after less than half an hour of further investigation the group were forced back indoors into the comparatively warm self contained atmosphere where they travelled back down the long dark passages of Octavia.
Several weeks passed while the party explored small areas of what was a vast underground complex, however on one morning the King realised that the time for the departure was near and so he gathered the group together once more to inform them that they would be departing the next day. Although many of the Lords regretted having to leave the magnificence of the palace, the majority of them were looking forward to breathing some fresh air. As the palace was being left by the guests, all the servants were required to come too from all the distant corners of the complex so that when the party finally reached the outside doors the next afternoon almost 200 of them were present. The large stone doors were swung open at a painstakingly slow pace before there was finally a crack large enough for the assembled people to squeeze out of back into the light and fresh air of the world.
When the entire group from the palace and the associated castle were ready and the doors once more shut with a bang and they set off on the journey back to Emyn Arnen. While the group had been enjoying the wonders of the palace winter had set in; however the golden leaves still clung to the trees of Lóthlorien as if held in place by some magical force when all other plant life had disappeared from the area. As the King passed under the canopy once more he glanced back at the vast looming mountain, thinking of King Jeremy I now lying alone surrounded by glorious treasures behind the cold doors of Octavia.
There King Jeremy I stayed, resting inside his tomb surrounded by his riches. His heir pledged to return one day if fortune allowed, however soon the outside world changed and the woods of Lóthlorien wilted and died as the people of New Brittania departed from the surrounding lands. The entrance bridge of Emyn Arnen, city of countless spires, collapsed into the river and all the homes of the New Brittanians in the land fell into ruin. Outside the Palace of Octavia the castle crumbled, but there beyond the closed doors laid a glimpse of the glory of the kings of old sealed forever inside the mountain halls. The entrance forever sealed, lest someone should solve the King’s riddle and walk in Octavia once more.
As they reached the city gatehouse many people cast their eyes to the statue of King Jeremy I which still stood inside the gates, his sword held aloft as if in defiance to his death and the stone eyes of the seemed to glint in the first rays of morning sun. Soon the column reached the gates and passed over the city bridge and move into the wilderness beyond before transfering into cars.
After several hours the procession reached the borders of the forest of Lóthlorien in which cars were banned, so all who were going to the mountain exited their cars and mounted a number of waiting horses. The King rode upon a large white steed behind the banner carriers as they made their way towards the wall of trees before them, the slow moving funeral carriage came behind. As they passed under the canopy they were confronted by nature in all its glory, it was autumn and all the leaves had turned various shades of beautiful gold and some had fallen to the floor making a carpet of vivid colour.
The trunks of the trees were a shade of light grey which seemed to be like pillars between the golden carpet and the equally magnificent ceiling. The horses passed almost silently along the winding paths, the banners flying lightly in the slight breeze which penetrated the canopy causing occasional flakes of gold to fall from the leaves. As the party moved forwards they travelled steadily upwards, passing over small stone bridges which spanned swift streams.
Birds sung gloriously in the branches of the trees (although only ravens could be seen, flying swiftly back and forth between the trees) as the late summer sun beat down casting golden light down upon the travellers who were in high spirits as they travelled deeper and deeper into the woods. This area of New Brittania was largely unpopulated and so unaffected by the pollution and crime of the cities; however this didn’t stop the royal guard’s hand twitching towards their holsters whenever an out of the ordinary noise was heard. After a few hours the canopy began to thin out again slightly, much to the relief of the guards who now began to relax again.
However as the group came close to the forests end they began to catch glimpses of the now nearby mountains which loomed ominously above them. Eventually the party entered a clearing and before them a large cliff stood, at the base of which a castle appeared to jut out from the stone.
The group hurried forward and dismounted before passing into the castle through a pair of large oak doors. They then founded themselves in an airy hallway with a number of doors going off of it on either side, and there opposite them stood a gaping hole in the solid rock with colossal stone doors on each side. A number of nobles having received the Royal summons to the funeral exited a lounge on the left and joined his majesty in the hall to finalise the arrangements; however they didn’t loiter there for long or rest from their travels.
Soon the King led them from the bright corridor towards the black hole in the Cliffside, as the group approached many began to worry about what would happen when they passed inside however their love of the dead King kept them moving forward with a number of marines now carrying the Royal Coffin. One by one the nobles passed inside the mountain into a dimly lit tunnel, they then stopped and turned to face the door through which they had come. The noise of engines could dimly be heard from a nearby guard room deeper inside the mountain and overhead chains began to clank. Slowly but steadily the great doors began to close and many of the lords gazed longingly at the bright sunlight before the doors halted and not even a crack of light could be seen in the surface.
The King then turned his back on the doorway and began to walk in the opposite direction with the coffin bearers behind him down the tunnel which was lit only by flaming torches on the walls. From the outside no trace could now be seen of the doors nor could they be opened but from the inside. Many of the people who had watched the doors close now rubbed their hand along the cliff face and could find not even a bump to show where the doors had been. In fact the only time any trace of the door could be seen was when the stone was scorched, and then a message could faintly be viewed upon the surface. It read “To enter, seek that which is black, master of the skies. Speak peace to him and no other lies. He may then set forth to the mountain halls and open the chasm in the walls.” Soon however the moisture from the rock would remove the scorch marks leaving nothing to be seen.
The Royal party meanwhile moved slowly along the wide corridors, no one spoke as they trudged on leaving the outside world behind them. The King walked in the front of the group gazing along the wide passage towards a dim light in the distance, following behind were several other dignitaries who were by now already re-evaluating the wisdom of following their King on this occasion and glancing around nervously at the blandness of the new palace which was to be the resting place of King Jeremy I.
These corridors were by no means dull, many wall hangings hung on the black stone on either side of them and numerous torches lit the way along the highly polished floor. They could however be forgiven for thinking that the decoration was somewhat repetitive, they had walked over a mile since they left the entrance hall and no major change in surrounding s could be noted. After a while several of the nobles began to talk amongst themselves, mainly about the palace they were now in and how long they would have to stay there without seeing the light of day.
One of the Lords however seemed to trust the Kings judgement on the matter implicitly. He was a particularly tall, grim faced gentleman known as Lord Pickford. He had been in the Kings service since he first ascended the throne and advised the other nobles that he had followed the Kings of New Brittania since the nations beginning and they had yet to lead him to any ill. Pickford certainly showed signs of his long life, his face bore deep wrinkles which seemed as old as erosions in the desert, however his eyes remained young and were a vivid blue matched by the long cloak which trailed behind him.
Several more minutes passed with just the sound of footsteps in the tunnels to break the deafening silence, however soon a distant sound was heard. Heavenly music was drifting down the corridor from afar and the lords raised their heads and for the first time noticed the light which the King had long been looking towards. The music seemed to remove all weariness from their feet and the congregation once more moved swiftly forward, Pickford smiled to himself for never doubting his majesty where others had. With every step they took towards the tunnels end the sweet music got louder and louder as it washed over them, the coffin bearers with the burden particularly enjoyed this distraction from the pain in their shoulders.
Not much time had passed before the light was close by and the nobles had reached a high ornate arch which they passed through without delay. As the lords and the coffin entered the next chamber they were dazzled by the bright light which seemed unbearable after the long dark, however their eyes soon readjusted and several mouths fell open as they took in the glory which was before them.
The King then spoke for the first time since he entered the complex, his voice boomed out around the stone walls: “Welcome my lords, to the Palace of Octavia! Resting place of Kings.” There before them gigantic columns of intricately carved stone towered over the group, each column was immeasurably high and seemed to have been carved out of the mountain itself. Every pillar rose flawless from the vast spotless floor up and up before it met an elaborately decorated arch which linked to it its neighbours on all sides. Several of the lords gasped at the sight, hundreds of these columns lined up perfectly as far as the eye could see, each as high as a small skyscraper and carved so delicately as to be beyond fault.
The King led the party down a short flight of broad stairs which led down to the floor of the great hall from the tunnel down which they had come, as they reached the bottom of the steps they saw that between the pillars hundreds of beams of golden light were pouring in from windows high above. The light dispersed across the polished floor leaving no part of the hall in shadow, and from some distant gallery the sound of as yet unknown instruments filled every corner of the cavernous room.
The party soon began walking again with increased vigour down the central row of columns, each of them filled with a curiosity which gave haste to their journey. As they moved off many of the lords craned their necks upwards to see the arches at the dizzying height above them or strained their eyes forward to see the far end of the chamber in the direction they were heading. For the coffin bearers looking around was particularly hazardous as any move of the neck or shoulder caused the coffin to slip dangerously. However it was nearly three quarters of an hour before the chambers contents became clear; there against the back wall stood the throne of the King atop of number of untarnished white stone steps. A red carpet ran from the high seat, down the steps and part of the way along the magnificent chamber to where the congregation had now stopped to gaze in awe.
A single shaft of golden light shone down from some distant opening onto the throne itself which was flanked by statues of the Kings of old set against vivid red and gold wall hangings which bore the royal arms. Now the source of the angelic music also become clear, in a high gallery on the left several musicians were strumming the strings of various harps of silver and gold the sound of which could be heard throughout the mountain halls.
Slowly the King ascended the steps to his throne and sat down. The sun glinted off his long scarlet cloak, the many items of jewellery and the small crown he was wearing. The lords quickly bowed low and shouted as one, “God save the King!”
In the interest of humanity the group were given an hours rest from their long journey in which the coffin was laid with care up the throne's steps and servants bought out drinks and food from the kitchens which were in a chamber behind the throne itself. However many of the nobles thought the rest had not been nearly long enough and soon they were being ushered into a chamber in the far corner of the vast hall which appeared dark and cramped compared to the cavernous room they were leaving . They entered the small chamber and within found a high white marble tomb illuminated by natural light from a hole in the mountainside above, the tomb was carved with the images of the natural world outside and all around it were stacked piles of jewels and gold objects (however this stash was rumoured to be tiny in comparison to those in the caves below.) The coffin was lifted onto the top of the tomb and lowered inside before the monsterously heavy lid bearing a statue of the deceased King lying in rest was slid into place finally sealing the dead King's resting place. The noise of the harps outside continued to drift in as wreaths were laid on the cold stone and the group stood silently, lost in recollections of their former King. However time pressed on so soon the party proceeded with regret back out into the main hall and were once more blown away by its vast scale and amazing detail.
After this the Lords were shown to their quarters where they would be staying until their departure, many of them were given spacious accommodation on the upper floors although some of the more irritating nobles found themselves alone in a dark cave in the deeper areas of the complex. In the intervening time between the funeral and the departure date the King spent much of the long days upon his throne advising various visitors from various areas of his realm on matters of state. After a while however he soon became tired of this and eager to visit the Royal tower which he had never before seen but had heard much about.
The Royal tower of Octavia was a stone structure on the very peak of Mount Octavian above which the Royal colours flew. To allow people to reach the tower from the chambers below a spiral staircase of uncountable steps rose from the lowest dungeon to the distant summit. This is where the King now trod, taking step after step upwards for hours on end. His Majesty and his personal guard struggled to keep themselves moving after step after step passed by, none of them wide enough to allow them to sit down and rest comfortable for any length of time. Over 4 hours of constant climbing had gone by and still the King had not reached the top, some of the guards began to doubt they ever would and feared the stairs went on forever.
No windows lit the stairway so only the light of many torches stood between the King and a seemingly never ending fall. However through much care and a tight grip on the hand rail the King and his guards finally reached the base of the tower and collapsed exhausted onto a number of well place chairs. These armchairs were placed around a roaring fire in the middle of a wide circular room almost entirely surrounded by windows. Had the congregation looked outside they would have seen a truly awesome sight, the vast blue sky stretching out to the horizon and below them several bushy white clouds reflected the sun’s rays making them appear to be made of golden cotton wool.
However the King and his party were much too occupied crowding around the fire to keep warm at such a high altitude to look and after removing their shoes and gazing in mild horror at the poor condition they were in they one by one they drifted off to sleep. The King was first to wake the next day as the early shafts of sunlight crept into the tower, as he sat up he saw all of his guards still asleep around him: “so much for protection” he muttered to himself although he appreciated they were probably in one of the safest places possible. After the guards were roused and breakfast had been served in the kitchens not too far below, the Royal party finally climbed the last few flights of stairs to the top of the tower.
As the leading guard pushed the door open they were struck by a wall of ice cold air, the group quickly drew their cloaks close around them and stepped outside. They found themselves stood on a large stone ledge surrounded by a low wall and beyond there seemed to be oblivion. The party stood for a moment gazing around, above them the yellow and blue Royal standard was flying in the stiff winds and higher even than that the vast blue canopy of the early morning sky stretched out endlessly.
Eventually the King plucked up the courage to walk across the frozen stone to the wall, as he cast his eyes down they passed the snow capped peaks of lesser mountains before his gaze rested on the fluffy white carpet of cloud. “Must be cloudy down below” he thought to himself after noticing how completely unbroken the cloud was, despite this the sun was shining on the carved stone of the tower as the group looked in every direction at the world far below them. Unfortunately however oxygen was running short outside in the cold and after less than half an hour of further investigation the group were forced back indoors into the comparatively warm self contained atmosphere where they travelled back down the long dark passages of Octavia.
Several weeks passed while the party explored small areas of what was a vast underground complex, however on one morning the King realised that the time for the departure was near and so he gathered the group together once more to inform them that they would be departing the next day. Although many of the Lords regretted having to leave the magnificence of the palace, the majority of them were looking forward to breathing some fresh air. As the palace was being left by the guests, all the servants were required to come too from all the distant corners of the complex so that when the party finally reached the outside doors the next afternoon almost 200 of them were present. The large stone doors were swung open at a painstakingly slow pace before there was finally a crack large enough for the assembled people to squeeze out of back into the light and fresh air of the world.
When the entire group from the palace and the associated castle were ready and the doors once more shut with a bang and they set off on the journey back to Emyn Arnen. While the group had been enjoying the wonders of the palace winter had set in; however the golden leaves still clung to the trees of Lóthlorien as if held in place by some magical force when all other plant life had disappeared from the area. As the King passed under the canopy once more he glanced back at the vast looming mountain, thinking of King Jeremy I now lying alone surrounded by glorious treasures behind the cold doors of Octavia.
There King Jeremy I stayed, resting inside his tomb surrounded by his riches. His heir pledged to return one day if fortune allowed, however soon the outside world changed and the woods of Lóthlorien wilted and died as the people of New Brittania departed from the surrounding lands. The entrance bridge of Emyn Arnen, city of countless spires, collapsed into the river and all the homes of the New Brittanians in the land fell into ruin. Outside the Palace of Octavia the castle crumbled, but there beyond the closed doors laid a glimpse of the glory of the kings of old sealed forever inside the mountain halls. The entrance forever sealed, lest someone should solve the King’s riddle and walk in Octavia once more.
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