Chapter 234
Chapter 234
The procession stretching from the Inner City boulevard finally reached the palace gates.
As the grand palace gates—now restored to their former splendor—swung open, the ministers, knights, and attendants who had been standing in formation across the vast courtyard bowed in unison.
"All hail His Majesty the King!"
Their disciplined shouts, unlike the raucous cheers of the commoners, carried a refined dignity.
The knights accompanying the procession swiftly lined up on either side of the palace gates, and as the crowd's gaze shifted toward the palace interior—
Logan walked alone down the path formed by the ministers.
His eyes were fixed ahead.
At the altar before the palace stood an elderly priest wearing a pristine white mitre several times longer than his head.
A face Logan had seen once before—at the funeral of the previous king.
Pamiel Geirnheim, Archbishop of the Nine Deities and overseer of Grandia—no, now MacLaine's—temples. The highest-ranking priest of Aion, God of Water and Agriculture, first among the Nine Deities.
His wrinkled face bore a benevolent smile as he waited for Logan.
"Congratulations, Your Majesty."
"It has been a long time, Archbishop."
The two exchanged pleasantries with practiced smiles.
Once the formalities concluded, Archbishop Pamiel retrieved a colorful scroll stamped with nine divine emblems from his robes.
Unfurling it with a flourish, he declared in a solemn voice unlike before:
"Logan MacLaine, King of the MacLaine Kingdom, heed the will of the gods!"
His booming voice, defying his age, filled the palace square as Logan slowly knelt on one knee.
"Will you, in accordance with Aion's will, promote agriculture and pursue harmony?"
"I will."
"Will you, in accordance with Ageron's will, promote commerce and pursue radiant value?"
"I shall."
"Will you, in accordance with Atran's will, promote mining and pursue steadfast value?"
"I shall."
"Will you, in accordance with Animah's will—"
The archbishop's blessings continued, listing the symbols of the Nine Deities.
To each question, Logan responded calmly with the same answer.
And finally—
"By the name of the gods, we recognize and bless the ascension of Logan MacLaine as King of the MacLaine Kingdom!"
With Archbishop Pamiel's proclamation—
"Long live His Majesty Logan MacLaine!"
"Long live the MacLaine Kingdom!"
"We pledge our unwavering loyalty with body and soul!"
The assembled ministers and nobles prostrated themselves with thunderous shouts that echoed through the palace.
Surveying them, Logan raised his hand with dignified composure.
"I accept your oaths. And with this kingdom, forged for the gods and the people, we shall usher in a new era!"
His measured voice carried to every corner of the palace.
"Long live! Long live! Long live the king!"
The prostrated nobles responded with resounding cheers.
Thus concluded the coronation held outside the palace.
"All rise for His Majesty the King!"
Creak—
As the grand hall doors swung open at the knight's announcement, Logan stepped forward slowly.
Though he found the hours-long ceremony somewhat excessive—
"To elevate authority, the dawn of a new dynasty must be declared with the utmost grandeur."
Recalling his stern teacher's words, Logan maintained his composure.
Amidst the kneeling ministers and territorial nobles, he advanced toward the throne at the center of the hall.
Step. Step.
The silence was so absolute that even breaths were inaudible—only the sound of his own footsteps filled the air.
In that hushed atmosphere, Logan paused before the throne and gently ran his hand along its armrest.
A seat he never imagined occupying just years ago.
Even now, standing before it, the reality felt surreal.
But—
'This throne will be the foundation to mobilize the kingdom more efficiently against the Empire. In a way, this is for the best.'
Steeling his resolve, Logan exhaled deeply and took his seat.
At once—
"Long live His Majesty Logan MacLaine!"
"Long live the new MacLaine Kingdom!"
"Every drop of noble blood in this kingdom swears loyalty to His Majesty!"
Cheers praising MacLaine once more filled the grand hall.
And immediately after—
"The MacLaine Kingdom inherits Grandia's traditions in full, recognized even by the temples! Now, we must prove His Majesty's legitimacy as the true successor to all of Grandia!"
With those words from Patrick MacLaine—no longer a marquis, but now a grand duke—the hall doors opened once more.
A dozen knights entered, carrying a transparent chest between them.
"Ohhh!"
Gasps of awe escaped the surrounding nobles.
Inside gleamed The Crown of Ruler—
A Class 5 Artifact permitted only to the kings of Grandia, its radiance undiminished.
To Logan, it was merely mana—bereft of its master, spilling aimlessly—but its beauty was undeniable regardless.
His eyes gleamed as he observed the overflowing mana.
'Some suggested crafting a new crown befitting the new dynasty...'
But Logan saw no reason to discard a Class 5 Artifact—something even the Empire couldn't easily replicate—for such a trivial purpose.
A treasure ranking among the royal vault's finest.
Moreover, one legend surrounded this crown:
"It will not respond to those outside Grandia's true lineage."
The ministers' proposal for a new crown stemmed from that very concern.
But Logan already knew the truth.
The talk of "Grandia's true lineage" was nonsense—fabricated to preserve this artifact's exclusivity.
The mana fluctuations he sensed during the late king's coronation—
His transcendent senses detected no bloodline-restricting magic in those waves.
'Merely baseless rumors spread by usurpers—bastards and second sons who seized the throne over the centuries.'
Hence, he had proposed this very ceremony.
To retain the finest artifact while legitimizing its use.
Thud.
The Crown of Ruler was placed at the foot of the throne steps.
As the knights retreated, his father and teacher exchanged uneasy glances.
"Perhaps you should test it first?"
"Even if it doesn't 'glow for its master,' no one would dare oppose Your Majesty."
Recalling their words, Logan smirked briefly before calmly opening the chest and lifting the crown.
Under the weight of mixed anticipation and concern, he placed it upon his head.
And then—
Huummm...
A brilliant flash erupted before the crown's light gradually dimmed, settling into a faint vibration.
The once-scattered mana, now stabilized, began weaving into Logan's being as perfected magic.
In that moment, he fully grasped its power.
'A Class 5 barrier, Class 4 detoxification and fatigue relief, even automatic regeneration.'
Truly, the Crown of Ruler lived up to its legend.
And—
"Could it be...?"
"...The crown has acknowledged His Majesty!"
"Then—does this mean he truly carries Grandia's legitimate bloodline?"
Murmurs of astonishment spread among the nobles.
Logan listened, satisfied—the additional effect he had intended was secured.
With composed authority, he surveyed the hall and declared:
"I, Logan MacLaine, hereby proclaim the dawn of the MacLaine Dynasty—heir to Grandia's legacy—and announce the beginning of a new era!"
"Long live! Long live! Long live the king!"
Following Sword Duke's lead, the nobles knelt once more, their cheers resounding through the hall.
'In the end, I've arrived here.'
This was never part of his original plan.
Yet, overcoming each obstacle had led him to this moment.
Perhaps his choices weren't the best.
Perhaps better paths existed.
But one thing was certain—he had always given his all, and this was the result.
Logan reaffirmed that every moment had been part of striving for the best possible outcome.
'So I will continue doing everything I can.'
Until the day those cheers held genuine devotion.
Until the resentment buried deep in his soul was washed away.
'I will never cease striving.'
With renewed resolve, he raised his hand to the assembly.
"Wooooah!"
The erupting cheers felt like an endorsement of his determination.
A new dynasty had begun.
Martial law was lifted.
Celebrations commemorating the new dynasty's dawn commenced.
Throughout the capital, banners bearing the MacLaine flame crest were hoisted, and invited merchants set up stalls along the streets.
Yet even as news of the changed world and festivities spread, the citizens hesitated to step outside.
"Same nobles, different name. Just swapping titles—what's really changed?"
"It's worse. Have you forgotten the massacre when they stormed the capital?"
"Don't wander around just because there's a festival. You might disappear and end up dead."
As ominous rumors festered, the streets grew desolate despite the celebrations.
"Tch. A 'new dynasty'? More like a usurpation."
"They killed the former king to take the throne—of course they're cursed."
"I'm a citizen of Grandia. Since when did I become a MacLaine subject?"
The hushed voices in the shadows refused to fade.
And as they multiplied—
A kingdom built on blood will soon descend into tyranny.
Baseless rumors spread like fact among the capital's populace.
Within a week of the coronation, Sword Duke and Patrick had no choice but to visit the king's office.
"Your Majesty, the public sentiment is dire due to these rumors. Perhaps we should open the royal coffers to let the people enjoy the festival—"
"If resources are lacking, Esperanza's vaults are at your disposal."
"How could we burden Esperanza alone? MacLaine's vaults are also open. Your Majesty, please grant permission."
Despite their grave pleas—
"No. Don't waste resources on futile gestures. Temporary goodwill is meaningless."
Logan's refusal was absolute.
"But the capital's atmosphere is dangerously tense."
"If we don't act, the situation may worsen. The founding celebrations will—"
"We have greater priorities. Frivolous expenditures for mere morale are denied."
Faced with Logan's unwavering stance, the two could only retreat with uneasy expressions.
As they left, Logan turned to the window.
His crimson eyes darkened with contemplation as they surveyed the barren streets.
As the bleak festivities neared their end, Logan gathered his inner circle ahead of the new dynasty's first grand assembly.
"Our foremost goal is military strengthening. Whether in three years or five, we must prepare to repel the Empire's invasion. This takes precedence over all else."
"Even now, you insist on this...?"
"Shouldn't we stabilize public sentiment first?"
His advisors couldn't hide their discomfort.
They were well aware of the capital's mood. Yet Logan remained unyielding.
"Better a grim atmosphere now than slavery or death for all in a few years. Propose any means to bolster our military."
His crimson eyes blazed with unwavering resolve.