The Song of Flowers - Chapter 4: The Succession Ceremony (3)

Another officiant approached Ron, presenting him with a silver dish. The same process was repeated. Ron, who had observed Shima’s actions, followed suit without difficulty. When the quill floated before him, he was surprised to feel its solid weight in his hand.

The officiant handed Ron the parchment, now bearing Shima’s signature at the top. Ron glanced at the unfamiliar text at the top, written in symbols used only in Haran, before moving to the blank space beneath the signature. He signed his name, “Leon.”

But as soon as he finished, the red letters of his signature twisted and vanished from the parchment.

Ron froze, staring at the parchment in confusion. The officiant, equally startled, hurriedly took the parchment to the red-robed mage for inspection.

The red mage examined it carefully before speaking.

“There’s something wrong…”

“Sign with your true name,” Shima said to Ron, her voice gentle but firm.

Ron hesitated. “Did you have another name as a child?” she asked.

“…Yes,” he replied slowly.

“In Haran, a true name is the one that becomes imprinted on your soul. Sometimes, the name used in childhood becomes that true name, which is why we are careful not to use nicknames lightly. Imagine how unfortunate it would be if a silly nickname became one’s true name.”

A few light chuckles spread among the crowd, though Ron found no humor in it. He realized this was something that occasionally happened, and it wasn’t just a formality.

The officiant restarted the process without much fuss, as the red quill reformed in midair. Ron felt a heavy internal conflict building as he prepared to write his true name.

True name? he thought. He had two names: the one he was born with and the one Leon had given him. But the name given to him at birth was tied to a past he had tried to erase. Since meeting Leon, he had lived as “Ron,” considering it his true identity, the only life that mattered.

But what is truly imprinted on my soul? he wondered.

He gripped the quill and, feeling the weight of all the gazes on him, scribbled the first name that came to his mind, not knowing what else to do.

Logan.

He stared at the finished signature on the parchment, surprised that he hadn’t written “Ron.” The name “Logan” felt foreign, yet undeniable. It had not twisted or vanished as before. The letters remained clear, as if solidifying his past in a way he couldn’t escape.

I thought I had abandoned everything… Ron thought. Yet, like his true name, the past was still a part of him, unshakable and imprinted deep within.

The officiant carried out the same ritual for each of the seven heads of the families, collecting their signatures on the parchment below Ron’s. When the last of the family heads had signed, the mages stepped forward, each placing the seal of their respective magic towers on the top of the document.

Finally, the red-robed mage declared, “All procedures have been conducted publicly and in accordance with the law.”

The officiant handed the parchment to the mages, who carefully rolled it, tied it with a leather cord, and placed it in a sealed case. Each of the three mages took turns locking the case with enchantments to ensure its protection.

“Prepare the Lady for the final ceremony,” Luther instructed.

The attendants brought forth a wheeled chair for Shima, but she waved it away. “No, I may not walk steadily, but this part I will do from here.”

The final step of the succession was traditionally carried out in a chamber deep underground, far down many flights of stairs. Shima, too weak to descend all the way there, would oversee the ceremony from her chambers.

“Open the doors so that all may hear me,” Shima commanded.

The doors to the chamber were thrown wide, allowing the large crowd of nearly a hundred people to fill the space. It was the first time in many years that so many of the Levass family’s retainers and loyal servants had gathered together under one roof.

“I believe I have fulfilled my duties,” Shima said, her voice carrying throughout the room. She then began to call the names of those gathered, one by one, addressing each person with a personal memory, a gesture of thanks, or a question about their family’s well-being. These were not empty pleasantries, but sincere words. Everyone who was called grew emotional, many unable to hold back their tears. Her voice was strong, her presence commanding, making it hard to believe she had been bedridden for so long.

Ron watched her in awe, feeling deeply moved.

She is truly a wise and just ruler, he thought. This was a true leader, a woman whose power and grace matched the title she held. It was something Ron had read about in books but never witnessed firsthand.

“I now leave the future in your hands,” Shima continued, her gaze sweeping over her audience. “As you guided me through my reign, so too must you guide the new head of the family.”

“Yes, my Lady,” came the unified reply, their words filled with reverence.

The collective bow that followed was a display of deep loyalty and respect, and the room was thick with the weight of the moment. The people truly revered her, not merely because of her title but because of the person she was.

Shima glanced at Luther, who gave a nod. He turned to Ron and said, “Please, come this way, young master.”

Ron felt an odd reluctance in his steps, as if something inside him resisted moving forward. But then, Shima smiled at him warmly, the kind of smile that reassured and gave strength.

Steeling himself, Ron turned and followed Luther, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.

You were lucky, Leon, Ron thought as he walked. You had someone like her in your life.

Ron had always envied Leon. He envied the love Leon received from a mother who cherished him unconditionally, and he envied Leon’s easygoing, optimistic nature. Even in death, Leon remained someone Ron looked up to with envy, especially now—Leon had a grandmother like Shima, and that made Ron’s heart ache with longing.

As Ron walked down the path, people parted, respectfully making way for him. Everyone followed in silence, knowing they were heading toward the final and most important part of the succession ceremony. Once everyone had left the room, the door to Shima’s chamber closed softly behind them.

Shima, who had been sitting upright to see them off, suddenly collapsed onto her bed, her strength leaving her all at once.

“Lady Shima!”

Her attendant rushed to her side, supporting her as she lay back down. Shima’s face was pale, and her forehead was slick with cold sweat. The physician checked her vitals, but there was little that could be done. Her frail body had simply reached its limit.

Shima sighed deeply as she lay back, looking around the now-empty room that had just been filled with people. It felt lonely.

It wasn’t power that she clung to; she had no regrets about passing on her authority. The changing of generations was a natural part of life’s flow. Her past glory was just a memory now.

At least I can leave without guilt, she thought. Despite the many challenges, she had found an heir and secured the future of the family. What lay ahead was no longer in her hands.

“Bring Adele to me,” Shima said softly.

Adele was her only remaining concern. The girl, so dear to her heart, weighed heavily on her mind.

Before long, Adele burst into the room, her small figure darting to the bed.

“Grandmother!” she cried, immediately running to Shima’s side. She buried herself in Shima’s embrace, tears streaming down her face as Shima wrapped her arms around the sobbing child, gently stroking her back.

Adele had been waiting anxiously, knowing something was happening. She had overheard Mel mention people gathering at the central tower. But there was only one thing Adele had been wishing for—that her grandmother would wake up, healthy and smiling, and hold her just like she was doing now.

“You’re better now, right? You’re all better, aren’t you?” Adele asked, her voice thick with hope.

Shima didn’t answer, only smiled faintly as she wiped the tears from Adele’s face.

“So much has happened, hasn’t it?” Shima said, tenderly brushing Adele’s cheek, her own eyes misting with tears.

My poor son… why did you leave so soon? Shima’s thoughts turned to her second son, who had followed his father and brother into death. She hadn’t even had time to grieve properly; her duties as head of the family had taken precedence over her role as a mother.

Shima had made only two choices purely for herself in her life. The first was bringing Merlon into the family, a decision that had only brought disappointment. The second was taking in Adele. Over time, Adele had become even more precious to her, and it was Adele whom Shima now clung to emotionally.

“Adele, I’ve found my grandson, the one I couldn’t care for all this time,” Shima said gently.

“…Yes,” Adele replied, her voice small.

“He will stay by your side in my place from now on.”

“…Yes,” Adele whispered.

She didn’t ask what about you, Grandmother? She didn’t need to. Adele knew, deep down, that her grandmother wasn’t recovering. The realization that they would soon part washed over her, and the tears fell freely again.

“I’ll be fine, Grandmother. Please don’t worry about me. Every moment with you has made me happy,” Adele said, her voice shaking.

Shima’s eyes widened briefly, and she pulled Adele into a tighter embrace.

You’ve grown so much… and I didn’t even notice, Shima thought, guilt tugging at her heart. She had watched Adele grow up, but only now did she realize how mature and selfless the girl had become.

Her eldest son, Ethan, had been a thorn in her heart. As a child, he had clung to her, declaring his love for her constantly. But children grow quickly, and soon, Ethan had started to rebel. Then, without warning, he left her life for good. Perhaps, deep down, Shima had hoped that Adele would never grow up, that Adele would stay the way she was. There was always a touch of guilt in the way she watched over the girl.

Adele… I will do everything I can for you before I go.

Now that her duties were complete, Shima allowed herself to think only of her own feelings. She knew that when her time came, the only regret she would carry would not be for her family or her legacy, but for this girl, the one person she could not protect forever.

***

A crowd, led by Ron and Luther, descended the stairs and reached the hall on the first floor. The sight of over a hundred people moving together seemed unfamiliar to the passing staff, who stepped aside, giving way while stealing glances.

Only about ten people were required for the final stage of the succession ceremony. The rest were mere spectators. Though attendance wasn’t mandatory, those without the right to attend would have clung to any opportunity to witness it.

The succession ceremony, in which the position of the head of the great family was passed down, occurred once every few decades. No one wanted to miss it.

A massive, tightly sealed black door stood to the north. As the group approached, the knights guarding the door saluted with their swords and opened it.

A hallway stretched before them. The short corridor ended in a barred wall, beyond which nothing could be seen in the darkness. The knight who had entered with them unlocked the bars, which acted both as a wall and a door.

Ron entered first. As he sensed someone’s presence, lights flickered on, revealing a descending staircase.

“It’s the lowest level of the underground,” Luther explained. Since no further guidance was necessary, Luther stepped aside, letting Ron lead. He descended the stairs. After several dozen steps, a spiral staircase emerged. The lower levels were too dark to see.

The spiral staircase was narrow, wide enough for only two people side by side. As Ron stepped on each stair, light emanated from round stones embedded in the walls, illuminating his way.

After descending for a while, they reached the end of the stairs, arriving at a hallway that led to a large stone door blocking the path.

“Do you know about the Flame of the Family?” Luther asked.

Ron shook his head.

“It’s a sacred relic that only the great family can possess.”

The knights accompanying them manipulated devices on either side of the stone door. With a scraping sound, the door slid open.

The room beyond was vast and dim, but considering the depth of the underground chamber, it was surprisingly bright.

Ron wondered what kind of treasure was hidden deep underground. At first glance, there were no glittering treasures. The spacious stone chamber was round, with a dome-shaped ceiling that rose high above. The light came from round stones densely embedded in the dome.

In the center of the chamber stood a stepped altar, rising high.

“You need to go up,” Luther instructed.

Ron ascended the altar. He climbed the stairs, followed by Luther and the heads of seven other families. Three mages accompanied them as well. The rest of the people remained below, waiting.

“When Haran, the founding sorcerer of Haran’s kingdom, established the family, he gave a brazier to the seven representatives who followed him and acknowledged their dominion. This is the origin of the great family.”

Ron listened quietly to this founding story, one he had never heard before.

The altar narrowed as he climbed higher. At the top, there was just enough space for a dozen people to stand around the central brazier. A red flame burned atop the brass brazier, which was chest-height.

Ron gazed at the flame absentmindedly, then looked closer. The flame burned without any fuel, simply floating in the air. There was no heat. It was a mysterious sight.

“This is no ordinary fire,” Ron remarked.

“This is the Flame of the Family,” Luther confirmed.

“Is it magic?” Ron asked.

“It possesses magical power. The flame has two distinct characteristics: its size and its color. At its peak, the flame is as tall as a person and burns a vivid red.”

The flame wasn’t large—only about the size one could hold between two hands.

“What causes the change?” Ron asked.

“The color represents the family’s prosperity. It’s usually red. When it turns yellow, it signals danger. If it turns white, the situation is beyond recovery.”

Luther’s gaze, fixed on the flame, was filled with pride.

“The flame of Levas has never lost its red color.”

“Can the flame ever disappear?” Ron asked.

It was a sensitive question, and the faces of the family head subtly hardened.

“In short, yes. If the flame is lost, the great family loses its right. A new great family is born.”

Ron stared at the burning flame, almost entranced.

“Is something like this… what determines the fate of a great family?”

If applied to the continent, this meant that the rise and fall of kingdoms were influenced by magic.

“Can such things really be achieved with magic?”

One of Ron’s companions, Julio, was a mage. In hindsight, Ron had been lucky. It was rare to meet a skilled mage on the continent.

Thanks to Julio, Ron had several opportunities to witness true magic. Magic wasn’t a miracle. It was simply another skill, like swordsmanship, wielded by humans.

But the Flame of the Family was different. This was on a different level from the magic Julio had shown him. It was hard to believe that such power was within human capability.

“Is this the end of my deception?” Ron thought.

The flame would reject him. After all, he wasn’t the real deal. The thought that it was all over brought him a strange sense of relief.

“What about its size?” Ron asked.

“The size reflects the life force of the family,” Luther answered, his expression heavy.

“It’s the life force of the family’s lord.”

Ron quickly turned his head toward Luther.

“We don’t have much time left,” Luther said to the mage.

“Please, begin.”

The people formed a circle around the brazier, standing at even intervals. Luther nodded at the mage holding the sealed parchment from earlier.

The three mages each unlocked their respective magic seals. They opened the container, removed the parchment, and all three examined it.

“In the name of the Mage Tower, we confirm this as the original,” they declared in unison.

After their statement, the last mage threw the parchment into the family’s flame.

The parchment spun in the air as it touched the fire, and, like salt dissolving in water, it disappeared in an instant. For a brief moment, nothing happened. Everyone held their breath.

Whoosh—

A massive flame erupted, burning bright red, surpassing the height of a person and almost touching the ceiling. The once-dark stone chamber was suddenly as bright as midday.

“We greet the new master of Levas,” Luther said, kneeling and bowing his head to the ground. Everyone, both on the altar and below, followed suit, with the exception of the mages.

Ron stared at the roaring flame with a complex expression. He couldn’t believe what had just happened—everything felt like an enigma.

***