Princes of the Universe
His Majesty, King Frederick Mercurius XXIII, slowly strode down the central carpet of his throne room. Every seventh step, he spoke a phrase, prescribed by ancient ritual. He stated the powers of the throne, an office he would assume when the sun reached its zenith in an hour's time. Each phrase spoke of the fealty of the realm to the king, of the king's power of high and low justice, of the treasury and the tax, the gaol and the axe. All these powers he took to himself, king of the land.
Every seventeenth step, he assumed a piece of regalia, taking ancient advice from a member of his staff. A cloak from the steward of his castle, and the advice "Let your law settle lightly on the people, and they will wear it well." A key from the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who said "Tax lightly in peace, so your people will stay rich." An orb from the Justicer; "Judge innocence and guilt carefully, and execute with a heavy heart; heads, once doffed, are not lightly returned." A scepter from the General of his armies, and the admonishment that "Wars ruin lands and slay your subjects, but give no ground to conquerors." From his queen, grave in her youth and pale in her wedding gown, he received his crown. "Be king, and father of kings. Uneasy rests the kingdom without an heir; uneasy rests the king who raises his heir to sloth and ignorance."
King Frederick knelt a moment before the throne. In a phrasing so old that none knew the origin, he stood before assembled throng, noble and common alike, and intoned an ancient oath.
"I am Frederick, son of John, son of Dean, son of Brian, King of Rhye. I pledge myself to the prosperity of the realm and the safety of its people. I will give justice to those wronged, comfort to those bereaved, and uphold the rights of peers of the realm and all those who uphold it. I pledge to this by my Life, my Fortune, and my sacred Honor."
As he settled onto the throne, the noontide sun shone down upon the land, and a roar rose throughout the hall, the city, and the kingdom. It was a roar of a free people, whose freedom would flow from the throne for another generation.
Regomancy is the magic of kingship. Wielding it, a monarch can bring victory to his armies, prosperity to his realm, and obedience to his laws. In practice, it is an art of ritual; formulas which must be strictly followed to be successful. It draws its strength from the regard of the people for their king; their love for a good king, or their fear of a cruel one. Its effects, however, are subtle; people of a regomantic land do not become mindless zombies, unable to disobey their lord. Instead, the realm itself comes to obey the monarch, bringing forth prosperity, even in times of hardship.
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Oh, and a lot of it is about clowns.
