The Ventar Designation
Preenasette - Bala Verceti - 2000
The Cast
Princess Tauriar, Prince Camcietti, Bakta the Overseer, Krankel, Prince Ventar, Amdorma
Princess Tauriar was attending her second Decennial Ceremony. But unlike the event of ten years ago where she was the centre of the nation’s attention, this was the turn of the Ventar designation.
Within the majestic grounds of the Bala Verceti Palace of Ancestors, the ceremony was underway to replace the outgoing High Council Elder and introduce a new baby boy as prince. There on the rosewood stage, surrounded by the gently fluttering flags of the nine provinces, the young princess proudly sat next to the three older Royal Trainees. The vividness of the staging and the fluttering territorial emblems presented a colourful foreground to the stately medieval palace, depicting their rich historical past within the modern city of Verbala.
Tauriar wore her new white robe, made especially for this occasion, with the Vercetian Life Vine delicately embroidered on it, a green serpent weaving its way around her, with explosions of red and yellow flowers. The ornate patterns on her head cap were striking. The embellishment of this vivid swath of dark blue skin was for the ceremony only, the declaration of a Vercetian moving from childhood to adolescence. On the stage next to her sat Prince Camcietti. Ten years her elder, the Prince was now a young adult and took every opportunity to defy authority. Unlike the two elder Royals who also wore delicately patterned white robes, he had improved his with interwoven glow-thread. He turned to her and smiled, and then pulled a face, eyes crossed and lips puffed out. Tauriar tried to keep her composure—this was, after all, the most important event she had ever attended—but the young prince was relentless in his quest to make her laugh. When he activated the glow-thread, a faint luminescent crimson stripe rippled down his robe in tiny waves, finally making the Princess succumb. With her powder blue cheeks flushing sapphire, she raised her hands to her face to hide her laughter. They looked up in time to see a hover-cam recording the Prince’s antics. The surprise on Tauriar’s face at being caught on camera in such a manner, and on such an occasion, was evident. The Prince sat back, crossed his legs, and gave the enthralled watching millions a broad smile and a cheeky wave. The two older Royal Trainees to his left looked on with resigned exasperation, but their faces couldn’t hide the fondness they felt for this roguish young man.
The little princess regained her composure and looked past the three elder Royals—Bakta the Overseer entered the stage. The ceremony would begin now. He made his way to the ornately jewelled throne in the centre and took his seat. With his hands caressing the golden shape of the High Council Coat of Arms on his Overseer Amulet, he surveyed the expectant multitude. She saw Bakta most days and was sure he was looking much older lately. He introduced the four High Councillors, the Vercetian heads of state. These were the rulers of Bala Verceti. One day, thought Tauriar nervously, she would be seated there.
The audience was soaking up the sun on this perfect day, and she tried her best not to worry about how many would be watching from the country’s provinces.
Finally, all was quiet. Bakta the Overseer stood up and stepped forward to welcome everyone.
‘The four Great Houses: Camcietti, Tauriar, Ventar and Domeriette welcome you all to the 29th Decennial Ceremony—The Ventar Designation.
Goodbye to our Ventar Elder.
Congratulations to our new Ventar Councillor.
Greetings to our new Ventar Prince.
The Council balance is reaffirmed today.’
Princess Tauriar silently recited the traditional opening to the Decennial Ceremony. She had learnt and now understood how it all worked, and her place in the ruling dynasty. Her Life Team had looked after her and trained her for ten years and would do so for another thirty. She would then join the High Council and serve for forty years, for the last ten of which she would be Council Elder—the most powerful Vercetian in the land. This system of governing ensured the viewpoint of all age ranges and genders were equally represented in all decision making. Today the Council Elder would retire and a new prince selected. She would cease to be the youngest Royal.
The ceremony slowly proceeded throughout the morning. Tauriar’s mind kept wandering. Interesting as this was, her thoughts kept returning to Krankel, the wolf puppy she had gotten the day before. A gift from the Life Team to celebrate this occasion. She wanted to pick him up and cuddle him.
She snapped out of it when it was Prince Camcietti’s turn to move on. She giggled to herself at the thought of him tripping over as he walked the three steps to the seat on his right. But he stood up and bowed to the audience and strolled to Bakta’s throne, grandly sitting down, giving the crowd his trademark wave and reactivating the glow-thread. The auditorium erupted in laughter yet again at the prince’s antics. Bakta, with a rare genuine smile on his face, quickly shuffled him back to his right seat, deactivating the tampered with garment in the process.
At last, it was Princess Tauriar’s turn.
This simple act of standing up, bowing, walking three steps and sitting down again had been practised in her mind a thousand times.
Bakta the Overseer called to her, ‘Princess of the great house of Tauriar, stand before your nation and celebrate your onward journey.’
Tauriar froze. Her brain and legs felt in complete disharmony. A million eyes pinned her to her seat. She could feel her world falling apart.
Then Prince Camcietti appeared in front of her. He reached for her tiny blue hand and with his thumb and forefinger gently raised it, drawing her into a standing position. He then bowed to her, so deeply his forehead was on the rosewood floor, and remained there still as the night.
Princess Tauriar looked forward, bowed deeply to the assembly, took three steps and sat gracefully down in the next chair. The crowd clapped and cheered the youngest princess.
Bakta approached and stood behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. He waited for quiet.
‘And now the part of the ceremony that I know many of you have been waiting for—the selection of the new Prince to occupy the vacant seat. It seems like only yesterday we named this lovely young lady.’ Again, Tauriar’s pale complexion darkened. ‘And here we are today celebrating her first step towards our Ruling Council.’ He moved back to the centre of the stage and the ceremony continued.
Tauriar smiled as ghostly images appeared around her on the stage, proud parents with beautiful baby boys from around the provinces. The holograms zoomed in so only the babies’ heads were in view. She reached out to touch the one closest to her, who was showing his frustration at being awakened at what must have been night time in his province.
Bakta walked to the front of the stage to make the final decision known.
‘And, the new Prince Ventar will be... Kalter of family Camerra!’
The holograph of the happy parents glided to the front of the stage with the same frustrated baby who now, as though working to a script, ceased crying and started smiling.
Everyone was on their feet now, cheering for the new prince, as was Tauriar, though this time she had managed to stand up on her own.
With the ceremony over, the Princess sat back in her seat and watched as everyone started mingling—a mixture of small talk, laughing and hugging. She was perceptive for a ten-year-old, though, and could see cracks in the glossy veneer the leaders of her country were trying to maintain.
Everything was far from okay.
Bala Verceti was at war with Trun Rizontella.
The two nations of Preenasette had been for hundreds of years—Princess Tauriar knew this. Her Life Team had taught her the history of it. The shameful period in Bala Verceti’s history. The creation of the High Council, all those years ago by the very first elder, Lord Camcietti, so that those mistakes could never happen again.
But over the last year, the war had turned ugly. Tauriar had overheard her elders referring to it. Even Bakta had said the Royals were in danger.
But today wasn’t the day to worry about such things. And what could she, a ten-year-old girl, do anyway? She had a puppy that needed her attention. Leave the war to the adults.
Prince Camcietti pulled another face at her—this time his robe was flashing dramatically on and off. She laughed loudly and pulled a face back at him.
Amdorma couldn’t believe it. They had chosen. The result would be the biggest coup in the KBS’s three-hundred-year history. And it was all down to him.
Too old, am I? Should be put out to pasture? I’ll show you all at tonight’s meeting, and this news will prove that I, Amdorma, am still an important, influential officer.
He was too excited to go straight home. He went to the Feathered Fig and ordered a dark ale, drinking it much too quickly. He ordered another.
Two hours later and he was bragging about the great, mysterious news he had had today. Annoying everyone around him.
He sat down, feeling dizzy.
Oh dear, too much ale.
He was feeling a burning in his chest, tightness. Then pains in his arms, neck and jaw. The realisation something was wrong came over him.
But the feeling didn’t last long. The old man rested his head in his arms on the table, took one more short breath, and was gone.
It was a while before the folk around him noticed something was amiss.
Poor old Amdorma was dead. And, for the time being at least, his great news would go to his grave with him.