As King GarGar approached the altar, his garments began to weigh heavily upon him. The crown that he wore was fashioned with silver and gold, and encrusted with jewels of every size and color. His fur-lined robes were hot. In one hand, he held a scepter and in the other, an orb. Such ostentatious display was required for a coronation; however, the young man could only wish that the ceremony would end- the sooner, the better.
After bowing deeply before the Blessed Sacrament, GarGar turned to face the assembled nobility. He saw his beloved Pirouette looking down on him from the gallery above. He tried to give her a wink, but the weight of the crown was such that he couldn’t even manage that small gesture of familiarity. As sweat dripped from his forehead into his eyes, the sting made him grimace. To the nobles, his visage was suitably grave and befitting of the occasion.