The bells of Eryndor rang heavily through the palace that morning, echoing across the kingdom as servants moved about quietly preparing everything for the coronation.
Unlike festivals and celebrations that usually filled the palace with laughter and excitement, today felt different. The atmosphere was heavy with grief because the former king had only recently been laid to rest and now the crown was already preparing to pass unto another head.
Inside his chamber, Drystan stood silently while the servants dressed him in the ceremonial robes of Eryndor. The dark material rested heavily upon his shoulders and the gold embroidery upon it gleamed faintly beneath the light coming through the windows.
He looked at his reflection for a long moment yet he hardly recognised the person staring back at him.
"Your Highness…" one of the servants called softly while fastening the last piece into place. "It is time."
