Flann Sinna Becomes King of Mide
Flann Sinna is about to be proclaimed King of Mide at the Hill of Tara, surrounded by a mix of supporters and wary rivals. The ceremony is a delicate balance of tradition and political maneuvering, as
Setting
The sacred Hill of Tara, the ancient seat of the High Kings of Ireland, bathed in midsummer sunlight. The royal enclosure is bustling with activity, featuring a large wooden hall and surrounding ceremonial structures. The Lia Fáil (Stone of Destiny) stands prominently nearby, where the new king will be proclaimed.
Characters
Flann Sinna
primary
A tall, broad-shouldered man in his early 40s with a commanding presence. His dark auburn hair is shoulder-length, streaked with grey, and his beard is neatly trimmed. His piercing green eyes survey the gathering with quiet authority. A faded scar runs from his left temple to his cheekbone, a testament to past battles.
Abbot
secondary
An elderly man with a hunched posture, long white hair thinning at the crown, and deep-set blue eyes that exude wisdom and calm. His hands are gnarled with age but steady as they grip the ceremonial staff.
Warrior Chief
secondary
A broad-shouldered man in his late forties with a battle-hardened physique, his face marked by a prominent scar running from forehead to cheekbone. His thick, dark beard is streaked with gray, and his piercing blue eyes assess the proceedings with keen intensity.
Scribe
secondary
A thin, middle-aged man with a slightly hunched posture from years of bending over his work. His sharp eyes dart between his wax tablet and the proceedings, missing no detail. His hands are stained with ink, and his fingers bear small callouses from frequent writing.
Young Warrior
background
A lean but muscular young man in his early twenties, with sun-browned skin and short, tousled brown hair. His sharp blue eyes constantly scan the surroundings for threats. He has a fresh scar across his left cheekbone, evidence of recent battles.
Dialog
Abbot
May the Lord bless and keep you, Flann Sinna, as you take up the mantle of kingship. Deo gratias for this chosen leader.
Flann Sinna
As the oak bends to no storm, so shall I stand firm in the service of Tara's people and the protection of Christ's flock.
Warrior Chief
A king's words are wind until proven by steel. We will watch how this oak withstands the storm.
Flann Sinna
Then let my first act be this oath, sworn on the Lia Fáil: no man who keeps faith with Tara shall want for protection or justice.
Abbot
The saints bear witness to oaths made at this stone. Let all here remember that.
Warrior Chief
By the sword's edge, we shall see. Our spears stand ready... for the right cause.
Flann Sinna
Then let us feast together, and speak of the causes worthy of both our peoples' blood.