Despite their many accomplishnts, it was not enough to earn Marquis Mikhail and his high-ranking officers a promotion in the peerage. They simply accepted Her Majesty the Queen's comndations and were awarded a variety of handso, highly prestigious dals.
The mid- to low-ranking officers who had accompanied their superiors to Bel Diran mostly found an extra star or so other insignia on their shoulders. A very small number, perhaps two or three, were fortunate enough to be granted titles of nobility. Jenkins noted that these n were mostly young, under the age of thirty, and mused that the royal family was establishing role models to encourage the young officers at the front to fight bravely, earn more accolades, and add to their own honor.
The lengthy ceremony of bestowing honors and comndations took a full hour and a half, yet no one seed to tire of it. The nobles sized up the newly honored n, contemplating what they might gain from them. The ladies hid their faces behind elegant feathered fans, their eyes lingering on the young soldiers. The young noblewon gathered in small groups, excitedly discussing the n who had gained honor and fa, finding their own amusent in the proceedings. Even the foreigners, who had no direct connection to the event, were pondering the impact this war and these soldiers would have on them, striving to morize every face in the hope that the information would prove useful. Even the servants standing in attendance found enjoynt in the spectacle. They might never have the chance to receive such distinguished honors as tonight's "stars," but seeing these n of common birth earn glory through their own efforts was always a thrilling sight.
Jenkins fought the urge to yawn, convinced that he and the cat were the only ones in the room who were bored. He had listened with interest at first, but his enthusiasm quickly waned. Though he continued to stand there with a smile fixed on his face, gazing at the stage, his mind had already drifted off. He was wondering if he should invite Dolores and Alexia to stay at his house once they arrived in Bel Diran.
"I wonder when they'll arrive in Bel Diran. Maybe I should ask soone soon... The day they et Hathaway and Briny is going to be the most difficult day I've had since I ca to this world... not counting that thirty-one-day loop, of course."
The cat on his shoulder, having nothing to do and knowing it couldn't run about or make noise at a ti like this, behaved like a normal cat, curiously observing the people around them. There were many people at the banquet, so of whom were Jenkins's acquaintances, though he hadn't noticed.
The cat was more interested in the human females standing near Jenkins. It hated new additions to the household. Even if it was now "generously" allowing the childish Jenkins to find his own "playmates," it still disliked these won who were encroaching on its territory.
Suddenly, he heard Her Majesty the Queen, who was speaking, ntion his na. Jenkins imdiately snapped his thoughts back to the present, realizing his turn had finally co.
The award ceremony had concluded, and Her Majesty the Queen had begun a new speech, touching upon the financial reforms the kingdom had undertaken since the beginning of the year. As this was a matter of great relevance to most of those present, everyone listened with rapt attention.
It was now the latter half of May. After nearly half a year, the reorganization of the national bank and the new policies from the financial and treasury departnts were either complete or about to be rolled out. Her Majesty spoke for a while, encouraging everyone to invest in the new financial sector and in innovative industrial factories, before finally ntioning the Fabry Fraud.
Since most people knew there was another protagonist for the evening, they weren't surprised by the less-than-subtle shift in topic. Seeing his turn was fast approaching, Jenkins took a mont to straighten his collar. Beside him, Briny reached out to smooth his hair, while Hathaway nervously reminded him to fasten the buttons on his cuffs.
Even Miss Windsor carefully patted the hem of his coat, smoothing out the wrinkles. Jenkins thanked his female companions, then held his breath for a few seconds until he finally heard the words:
"...And so I have decided, in recognition of the outstanding contributions Baron Jenkins R. Williams has made to the kingdom, to bestow upon him the title of Viscount this evening..."
A burst of applause erupted around him. Briny gave him a gentle nudge, and Jenkins moved with the montum, stepping out from the crowd. He turned back to thank the assembled guests, then made his way around the throng to the side staircase of the raised platform, ascending the steps to stand beside Her Majesty the Queen.
Behind the two of them was a grand spiral staircase leading to the second floor, and on the wall hung a massive oil painting of a forr king. The portrait was a recent creation, painted no more than three months ago. As Jenkins stepped onto the platform, those who looked from him to the painting behind him were stunned to discover that the face in the portrait bore a faint resemblance to Jenkins's own.
More than one person noticed this, and whispers rippled through the audience below the stage. But this was all part of Her Majesty's plan; if people could "discover" the truth for themselves before the official announcent, the news would not cause such a stir.
Ignoring the murmurs from below, Jenkins knelt on one knee before Queen Isabella, officially becoming Viscount Williams, forrly Baron Williams. Her Majesty also ntioned her intention to grant Jenkins a small fief near Nolan, though a suitable location had yet to be found. The matter, however, was decided, and soon a fine prefix would be added to Jenkins's title.
"As it happens, with so many of you from Bel Diran gathered here for such a grand occasion, I have a small piece of news I wish to share."
The ti had finally co for the main event. After accepting his new title, Jenkins did not step down from the platform but remained standing beside Her Majesty. She rested a hand gently on his shoulder, patting it twice, and then addressed the crowd below.
"Recently, I have made a discovery. The Middleton family is not, in fact, without a direct heir."
Her voice was firm and resonant, a stark contrast to the slow, deep, elderly tone she had used during her earlier speech.
An uproar swept through the hall. Beneath the faint glow of the glittering chandeliers and the gas lamps along the walls, n and won began to talk openly, abandoning all pretense of decorum. Although a few had known what the most important matter of the evening would be, the vast majority were still in the dark.
Just then, the great doors at the back of the crowd swung open. A warm breeze blew in from the courtyard, drawing everyone's attention.
On the red carpet that stretched from the main entrance of Coldspring Palace into the hall, three n in different styles of black formal attire were striding forward, led by a servant.
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