Despite having only twelve soldiers, despite the Seawright name having long since faded from the kingdom's political center, despite the family's last property in the capital having been reclaimed by the crown a hundred years ago, Wayne still entered the city in the most conspicuous manner possible, and flew the banner from seven hundred years ago.
That banner was one that could only be used while Gwayne Seawright was alive. Raising it wasn't so much about asserting his presence as it was about sending a signal to the Royal House Martell.
"The one entering the city is not the seventeen-year-old Viscountess Seawright. It is the Grand Duke of the Southern Marches."
Upon hearing the report from his chamberlain, Denethor II immediately understood the message the "ancient" was sending. The aging king walked to the terrace of the Silver Keep and gazed toward the direction of the Seawright party's entrance.
At this distance, he could see nothing, the city had grown far too large, so vast that even from the highest point of the Silver Keep, one couldn't see its edges. He wondered whether that ancient, who had slept for seven hundred years, had felt any surprise upon stepping into this city.
Did he realize that after seven hundred years, nothing was as it had been?
The chamberlain was still waiting for orders. Denethor II withdrew his gaze and turned to the unremarkable middle-aged man.
"Receive him according to the protocol for a Grand Duke. Then inform him that I will meet with him tomorrow at noon. Ask the Grand Duke of the Southern Marches to rest for a day in the Silver Keep to recover from the journey."
The chamberlain acknowledged, but just before withdrawing, Denethor II called him back.
"Additionally, apart from the meeting arrangements, accommodate every request Lord Seawright makes to the best of your ability. There must be no lapse in courtesy."
The chamberlain withdrew. A young man in fine clothing, with short pale-gold hair and strikingly handsome features, stepped forward from a nearby pillar where he'd been standing the whole time. "Father, do you think this 'resurrected' duke is real or fake?"
"That isn't important," Denethor II said, looking at his heir. "Though Andrew sent that letter, though we've received mountains of corroborating evidence, whether the ancient duke is genuine remains to be seen. For now, I can only say... it's clearly not a farce. The resurrected ancient has given us quite the 'surprise.'"
The young man lowered his eyes in a show of humble deference. "What do you think his intentions are?"
"Until we meet, all intentions are merely guesses. Judging by the spectacle he's created along the way and the obviously orchestrated rumors, his style clearly isn't one of tipping his hand in advance," the old king shook his head. "You may find an opportunity to make contact and gauge his attitude. But mind the boundaries. We're facing an unprecedented situation, don't provoke him."
The young man agreed and left the room.
Denethor II turned back, continuing to gaze toward the city's interior, a quiet sigh in his heart.
Still too young. His heir wasn't yet skilled at hiding his true thoughts. He'd shown far too much eagerness regarding the ancient who had descended from heaven, or rather, crawled out of the abyss. His urgency was transparent at a glance.
But it wasn't a serious matter. Better to give him the opportunity openly than to have him sneak off to make contact on his own.
After watching the chamberlain ride out of the palace, Denethor II nodded and addressed the empty air beside him.
"Shadow Raven. Monitor the Gwayne Seawright party. Report any developments."
The moment the old king finished speaking, a silk drape beneath a nearby column swayed slightly, but no figure appeared.
"Also, do not get too close. If he truly is the legend from seven hundred years ago, approaching recklessly will get you discovered." The High King added.
The drape beneath the column didn't stir again.
Wayne's party entered Sunspear through the main gate and rode down the central avenue, so that practically half the city knew of their arrival. Before reaching the Silver Keep, they were met by the welcoming procession sent by the High King.
The procession was lavish, the ceremony grand. A red carpet stretched from deep within the Silver Keep all the way to Wayne's feet. Finely dressed attendants and handmaidens scattered flower petals along the route while trumpeters and drummers played music in twin columns. All of it meant the High King had been preparing for more than just a day, though Wayne was certain that if he'd entered differently or arrived earlier, the welcome would have taken a different form.
Gods knew how many contingency plans that king had drawn up for this moment.
Though Wayne himself had no personal experience dealing with nobility or royalty, the inherited memories contained a wealth of relevant knowledge. Gwayne Seawright might have been a man of Andraste's rough founding era, but he had also lived through the glory days of the Gondor Imperium. He couldn't see what Andraste looked like seven hundred years later, but he knew exactly what the Gondor Imperium had looked like seven hundred years before.
The complexity of that once-supreme human empire was something the modern nations of the continent couldn't begin to imagine.
"Please follow me to the Silver Keep. His Majesty has ordered the most luxurious rooms and finest meals prepared, as well as hot spring baths to ease the journey's fatigue. The audience is scheduled for tomorrow at noon. Please rest well tonight."
A composed-looking reception official, an inner-court noble of some house or other, stood before Wayne and spoke with impeccable courtesy. Wayne glanced at Rebecca beside him, only to find the girl staring around wide-eyed with open curiosity.
Though she'd done her best to maintain composure the entire journey, here before the Silver Keep, amid the grand welcoming ceremony, this small-town lord had been thoroughly overwhelmed. Her eyes couldn't take it all in, she didn't know whether to look first at the immaculate, dazzling honor guard or the towering, majestic palace in the distance, its entire exterior sheathed in silver foil.
"I would have thought the High King could hardly wait to see me," Wayne shrugged, staying mounted and looking down at the reception official. "After all, it's not every day you meet someone who popped out of a coffin."
The official froze briefly, apparently not expecting a legendary duke to speak quite like this, but recovered quickly. "His Majesty has arranged the audience for tomorrow, taking into consideration the fatigue of your long journey."
"Is that so..." Wayne deliberately paused for a very long time, then continued just as the official was on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat. "Then I thank His Majesty for his kindness. However, since we're not meeting today, there's no need for me to stay in his castle. I wouldn't be comfortable in the Silver Keep."
The official's expression shifted. "Then you..."
"I'd be more comfortable staying at my own home," Wayne smiled. "I just wonder, after seven hundred years, have you people torn down Number Four, Crown Street?"
At the words "Number Four, Crown Street," the reception official and several nearby inner-court officials couldn't help but react. Denethor II had warned them, but they truly hadn't expected Wayne's request to go in this direction.
That was Gwayne Seawright's residence in the capital from seven hundred years ago.
Though Gwayne Seawright had been the Grand Duke of the Southern Marches and spent most of his time on his southern estates, like the other pioneers of his era, he'd also maintained a residence in the capital. It was one of the mansions that founding king Charles Martell had built for each of the first-generation pioneer knights, and all of them were located on Crown Street, the block closest to the Silver Keep.
Whenever the pioneers traveled from their fiefs to the capital for important deliberations, they would stay in their own residences. That had been the custom.
Seven hundred years had passed. Every pioneer (save a certain one who'd recently risen from the dead) was long gone, but every mansion on Crown Street had been preserved in its original state. The crown had even funded continuous renovation and maintenance over the centuries to ensure they would last forever.
They had effectively become living fossils, except these living fossils still had occupants. The various pioneers' descendants were alive and well, having inherited their ancestors' estates.
All except the Seawrights. Ever since the spectacularly gifted Gormon Seawright had come along, Number Four, Crown Street had been reclaimed by the crown for a full century...
"Number Four, Crown Street..." the reception official said haltingly. "It's certainly still there, though it's been completely renovated many times over..."
"Oh, naturally. It's only a townhouse, not as sturdy as a castle," Wayne laughed. "But if it's been renovated, that means it's in good condition? I shouldn't have any problem moving in?"
"Of course..." The official had been about to say he'd need to consult the High King first, but seeing Wayne's half-smiling expression, the words died on his lips. "But..."
"I know, it's been reclaimed by the crown, right?" Wayne, not wanting to make things too difficult for someone who was just doing his job, spoke up himself. "But I've also heard that no one is currently living there. In fact, no one has lived there for the past century, correct?"
"That's true. After all, the founding king left... many things there. No one has dared remove them, and to this day no one has been deemed qualified to inherit them, so Number Four, Crown Street remains vacant."
Wayne kept smiling. "Since no one has inherited it, there shouldn't be a problem with me going home for the night, should there?"
"Of course not," the reception official said, remembering the orders relayed by the High King's chamberlain. He had no choice but to nod. "Then please wait a moment, and I'll lead the way..."
"No need. I still remember the way to my own house." Wayne waved him off. "Just go back and tell the High King I'll be at the Silver Keep tomorrow at noon, right on time."
Then he turned his horse. Before leaving, he gave Rebecca a pat on the head. "Come on, silly girl. Let's go."
Rebecca snapped out of her daze. "Huh? Great Ancestor, we're not staying in the palace tonight?"
"What's so great about the palace? When they were building it, I told Charles the soil where he'd picked was no good. Sure enough, three years later, a big crack opened up in the roof. Come on, I'll take you to where I used to live. Now that feels like home."
Watching Wayne's party ride off on their own, the reception official felt the cold sweat that had been brewing on his forehead finally trickle down. He grabbed the person nearest to him. "Quick, find a Druid who can shapeshift into a bird! Send them to Number Four, Crown Street and tell them to get the place ready immediately!"