Today, a great event was to take place in King's Landing.
Kal Baratheon... no, Kal-El, who had abandoned the noble Baratheon surname and instead continued to bear the old surname of House El, was to hold his formal coronation ceremony today.
This was a grand occasion that had been prepared for nearly half a year. Ever since that young king had won the War of the Claimants and returned to King's Landing, he had first stabilized the Seven Kingdoms after the war, and only now was the ceremony finally being held.
So before dawn had even broken, the whole of King's Landing was already bustling.
The entire city simmered with a kind of excitement, waiting only for the moment to erupt.
Because the curfew had been lifted over the past few months, the nights and days of King's Landing had become no different, and now people were all streaming out of their homes, onto the streets, and toward the King's Gate.
People's faces were full of smiles, smiles of anticipation, enthusiasm, and joy.
Adults brought their children, moving in groups of three or five, jostling one another. When they met acquaintances, they would exchange greetings, only to be swept apart again.
Because there were simply too many people, the lords of the Small Council and the gold cloaks of the City Watch had no choice but to divide King's Landing into sections and redirect the flow of people, guiding them out separately through the King's Gate, the River Gate, the Lion Gate, the Gate of the Gods, and even the Old Gate.
But even so, the crush involving several hundred thousand people continued until the sun had risen high, and only then did it gradually disperse, leaving King's Landing in a miraculous silence.
Under normal circumstances, the population of King's Landing stayed at around five hundred thousand, with little fluctuation.
But this time, because Kal had won the war and, after formally becoming king of the Seven Kingdoms, enacted a series of policies, together with this coronation ceremony that had been delayed for half a year, whether they were nobles from across the Seven Kingdoms, merchants who had smelled opportunity, or even commoners who simply wanted to see what the king looked like, people from every direction had gathered here, adding another hundred thousand to nearly two hundred thousand souls.
The gathering of nearly seven hundred thousand people had brought an unbearable strain to King's Landing.
Had it not been for the public order policies Kal had put in place earlier, back when he had still been Robert Baratheon's Master of Coin, and for the later improvements made outside King's Landing, this influx of people might well have brought a considerable disaster upon the city.
After all, a King's Landing that housed five hundred thousand people was already at the limit of what it could bear.
From the last Great Tourney until now, nearly a year had passed.
Kal Stadium, which had once hosted those Games, had also gone through half a year of repairs, becoming larger and more imposing.
But when the people, under the guidance of the gold cloaks and the army, slowly gathered beside the Blackwater and before Kal Stadium, they discovered that at the very front, in the most conspicuous place, stood a "small mountain" covered by an enormous sheet of black velvet cloth.
The small mountain looked to be some seven or eight meters high. No one knew when it had appeared there, but that did not stop it from being the largest and most eye-catching object at the front of the open square.
Everyone was curious about what it was. People speculated endlessly, even discussing it aloud.
Some said it was the Iron Throne, only to be immediately mocked and refuted by those nearby. Anyone who could say such a thing was obviously some outlander who had come to King's Landing to beg and knew nothing.
After all, everyone in King's Landing knew that the Iron Throne stood in the throne room of the Red Keep. How could it possibly appear here?
That was the throne made by Aegon the Conqueror, first ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, forged from the thousand surrendered swords of his enemies melted down by the dragon Balerion the Black Dread, and completed over fifty-nine days.
Though the Iron Throne had, after more than two hundred years of repairs, and especially after Robert Baratheon had taken power, lost some of its former grandeur, that massive lump of iron was still something that could not possibly be transported here.
More than that, it was the Iron Throne. Leaving aside whether it could be moved, no one would have to think beyond the tip of a toe to know that no one could be foolish enough to carry it out of the throne room.
So after all the guessing, people were more inclined to believe that the seven- or eight-meter-high thing hidden beneath the covering was most likely a statue.
A statue of King Kal-El, who was to be crowned today and formally declare his rule over his subjects.
That guess won the approval of most people, and then others began to wonder when the statue had been made, and by whom.
Then someone declared with utter certainty that the statue had been crafted by Tobho Mott, the finest smith in King's Landing, speaking so earnestly and confidently that it seemed as though he had seen it with his own eyes.
Only Tobho Mott himself, standing amid the crowd with his apprentices, having shut his shop and extinguished his forge for the day to come witness the ceremony, wore a baffled look when he heard that.
And in places no one noticed, the City Watch responsible for keeping order, along with the newly established king's army that answered directly to the king, the Royal Guard, were equally baffled as they stared at this suddenly appeared "small mountain."
If they remembered correctly, when they had stood watch here yesterday, this thing had not been here at all.
But after the changing of the guard before dawn, it had already been here, as though it had always stood there.
...
At the Red Keep, Kal, who was still inside the city, stood within the gates in a splendid red, black, and gold ceremonial outfit, head held high, looking up at the sky with faint boredom.
Beside him stood a chestnut warhorse draped in equally magnificent horse trappings.
As though sensing that today's atmosphere was somewhat solemn, Fawkes, who had not appeared for a long time, snorted and scraped his newly shod hoof against the stone beneath him.
"Easy, Fawkes."
Hearing the movement, Kal withdrew his gaze from the sky and, with a smile, patted Fawkes on the neck.
Reassured, Fawkes snorted again and tossed his head, habitually trying to lean over, only failing to notice that the reins on his head were still being held, and directly yanking the groom into a stumble.
"S-sorry, my lord, n-no... Your Majesty, I... I didn't mean to."
Because he was nervous, Ferrari, who was holding the king's horse for him today, had been gripping the reins tightly. Seeing that he had made a mistake, he hurriedly apologized in a panic, cold sweat already covering his brow.
As he spoke, he was about to kneel, only for Kal to lift a hand and raise him up through the air.
"There is no need to mind it. Fawkes is a little mischievous. Give me the reins, Ferrari. In a while, you can follow the procession to the stadium."
Casting Fawkes a glare, Kal took the reins from Ferrari and dismissed him.
In truth, Fawkes had no need of anyone to hold his reins at all. But because today was such a grand occasion, this groom, whom Kal had once taken from King's Landing to Casterly Rock to become master of the stables, had, after Kal became king, returned once more to King's Landing.
And as the newly appointed master of the royal stables, it was of course his honor to hold the king's horse today.
Seeing that the glory he would have been able to boast of for the rest of his life had nearly been ruined, Ferrari, grateful for the king's mercy, quickly gave thanks and withdrew.
At that moment, a bark suddenly rang out. A golden figure shot out like lightning, squatted before Kal with its great tongue hanging out, and a group of figures slowly emerged from a corner behind it.
Ignoring JJ, who was clearly asking for praise for its merit, Kal directly nudged it aside with his foot so that it would stop blocking the way, then looked up toward the approaching group.
At the head of the group were two Kingsguard, clad in white armor and white cloaks. But unlike the former white armor and white cloaks of the Kingsguard, the armor and cloaks worn by these two now were trimmed with gold, and across the whole breastplate was engraved in gold the great jeweled river sigil of House El.
And as they walked, the floating white cloaks on their shoulders bore the same sigil in the center.
After the arrival of the two guards, whose helmets hid their faces and who both stood well over six feet tall, there followed behind them only eight handmaidens.
A group of ten, all to protect the most beautiful woman in their midst.
Sansa Stark. Long unseen, she had grown even more beautiful, with a tall and graceful figure, delicate cheekbones, clear blue eyes, and thick auburn hair.
Today she wore a long ceremonial gown of white and gold as well, its trailing hem so long that four handmaidens were needed to support it for her to walk.
When she saw the man waiting for her, feeling that today she was the happiest woman in all the world, Sansa cast a shy glance at that dazzling man, radiant beyond compare, and could not help but lower her head slightly.
"Your Majesty, good morning. You are as the sun in the sky!"
Watching Sansa appear and salute him, Kal returned the gesture slightly, stepped forward, took her offered right hand, which was covered by a half-length white silk glove, and pressed a kiss upon it.
"Lady Sansa, today you are more beautiful than all the blossoms in the world."
After Sansa had greeted the king, the two Kingsguard protecting her exchanged a glance and walked into the ranks of the five Kingsguard already waiting ahead.
After a few simple courtesies, Kal held Sansa's hand and helped her into the carriage, then gave the order to depart.
Because King's Landing had been emptied out today, from the Red Keep onward, the royal army stood in two lines guarding the king, stretching all the way along the avenue toward the King's Gate.
The former gold cloaks could only stand outside the royal army and handle simple matters of order.
The Kingsguard, led by Ser Barristan Selmy, rode forward slowly on warhorses as white as snow, solemn and dignified.
Behind him, his sworn brothers and sisters followed, forming the shape of an arrowhead as they guarded the most honored person at the center and advanced slowly.
And beneath the protection of those seven Kingsguard, Kal, riding his chestnut warhorse, stood out all the more.
Behind them followed a carriage drawn by eight warhorses of the same snowy white coat, and as they drew nearer and nearer to their destination, the royal soldiers guarding both sides began to fall in and follow behind the king as well.
The procession grew ever larger, and within that solemn atmosphere, one could already faintly feel the passion building ahead.
Then, when Kal rode through the King's Gate and truly stepped into the sunlight, cheers surged toward him like a great tide.
Flowers, cheers, blessings, applause.
At that moment, all of it rushed toward Kal in a flood.
The Royal Guards lining the road saw at once that things were going wrong, and immediately locked arms together, doing everything in their power to hold back the frenzied crowd rushing toward their king.
Seeing that the people had become so excited at the sight of him that they could no longer restrain themselves, Kal slowly raised a hand, and a soft green glow appeared, scattering downward like spring rain.
Each wisp of green light found exactly the person to whom it belonged.
The once-frenzied people were at that moment struck dumb by the miracle before their eyes, all staring curiously at the green light coming from the hand of that man, beautiful beyond mortality and noble as though he were a god descended to earth.
And then, in the next instant, as they curiously reached out to catch the green glow that belonged to each of them, a warmth and comfort that burst from the depths of their hearts and spread outward filled them all.
But the miracle did not end there.
As commoners, how could they have lived their whole lives without injury or illness?
But at the instant they touched that green glow, at the instant they felt that warm radiance pouring into their hearts, they all felt the weariness, pain, and sickness within them melt away like spring snow beneath the sun.
Fresh wounds on their bodies, old ailments that had never healed, all were miraculously cured at that moment.
"A miracle!"
"This is a miracle!"
"The king, His Majesty Kal-El!"
"The king!"
"The Eight Gods!"
"The Eighth God, His Majesty Kal-El, the Eighth God, the incarnation of the Seven!"
"He pities us! The gods love the world!"
"Long live His Majesty Kal-El!"
"..."
As the miraculous green light, the light of divine wonder, scattered over the heads of the people on both sides of the road, the overwhelming tide of cheers, after a brief pause, rose again with even greater frenzy.
The flowers prepared long in advance fell like rain, and the praises and prayers rising sincerely from their hearts were like the stars in the sky.
But as Kal performed his miracle, those who had received his grace longed even more to draw near to this god who had descended among men.
Yet for some reason, an invisible force kept them apart, stopping them where they stood.
Kal, who had long prepared for this, glanced toward Erevi in the procession, secretly lifted his chin, drank down a bottle of mana potion, and continued his miracle.
And so, as the king's procession advanced all the way forward, countless commoners followed behind him, the piety and frenzy on their faces growing ever thicker, beyond words.
The tales that had once been treated as little more than rumor now appeared before their eyes in truth, and the faith in their hearts at that moment found a tangible object to rest upon.
No one could put into words the fullness and happiness of that moment.
Because God was right before their eyes.
In the end, after wave upon wave of frenzy reached its peak, that noble procession finally arrived at its ultimate destination.
This was a broad open ground that had been deliberately leveled, beside the Blackwater Rush, where the breeze brushed softly against their faces, carrying with it the salty dampness of the sea wind.
Hundreds of thousands of eyes were fixed upon the procession as it came walking along the passage.
And at that very moment, the soft green radiance suddenly burst forth like rain, pouring outward like a wild fountain.
This was the place where the greatest number of people had gathered, and also the holy ground where the miracle unfolded before all eyes.