Morning sunlight spilled across the towering Montreal Mountain.
Empire Central Avenue.
The air was thick with the joy and pride of victory. Crowds who had heard the news packed the left side of the broad avenue. They shouted from the roadside and the windows, their cheers rising and falling as bright flags fluttered in the wind.
On the right stood the Empire's various offices and departments, along with viewing areas for officials, nobles, and guests.
At the center, on the terrace of the Ceremonial Affairs Department, stood a chilling Throne built from countless bones.
The leg bones of Dragons and Giants supported the base of the Bone Throne. Above them, layers of vertebrae curved in graceful arcs and fitted tightly together to form a broad, level seat.
Its sides were pieced together from ribs, their sharp ends jutting inward as though to embrace whoever sat there. Dozens of enormous bone spears rose behind the Throne and spread like wings. At the tip of each was a crowned human skull—according to the bards' tales, they belonged to the Tartun Empire's enemies.
In truth, they were the skulls of the Tartun Empire's former kings.
For the Bone King, one of the Thirteen High Kings, such a Throne was hardly surprising.
The young emperor rose. He stood too far from his people for them to make out his face, and the divinity surrounding him seemed greater than his humanity.
"We have won another victory."
His familiar, lazy voice rang out, amplified by a Spell. It sounded a little less youthful and a little more commanding.
"This is but one insignificant victory among our countless triumphs, though it is a rare victory for the Allied Forces. So... let the parade begin."
After that brief speech, the Court Mage cast a Spell reserved for celebrations.