Day 46

I can hardly believe my luck! Never in my wildest dreams did I think we would be allowed access to the capitol itself. The grand city of Ocala surpasses all the legends I've heard, truly it is an oasis secreted away within the desert. I could fill every page I brought with me just exploring the city, but I have more pressing memories I wish to commit to paper; I was granted an audience with the prince himself!

I met him in a blacksmith of all places, and talked with him over a cup of cold water while he was still covered in soot from the forge, but more on that later. He speaks remarkably good English, with the same accent as the translator we previously conferred with, which is surprising considering how little they want to do with the US of A. I asked what title to refer to him by, and if he was the crown prince or a younger son. He responded with a laugh, and asked if I wanted to see his 'crown.' At my vehement affirmation, he went into the back of his shop and returned with an empty leather bag, perhaps the size of a man's head. On seeing my confusion, he elaborated, which led to a discussion of the Naga Empire and the chain of succession.

He insisted that the title of prince wasn't a good translation, on the grounds that he wasn't a prince, because he hadn't yet forged his crown. There is no single glass crown that marks a Diamondback Emperor, nor a single staff of law; each is expected to make their own from a forge's fire. When a prospective heir to the throne (Male or female; shockingly, they don't insist on a male ruler. I'll use male pronouns, as they apply to him and his journey.) comes of age, he is set to travel the length and breadth of the kingdom. He is to live for no less than a month at each of the provincial capitals, so that he sees the territory his family holds and knows the subjects he will rule, and from the head of each Naga bloodline, he receives a gift of sand, or ash, or lime. On completing his circuit of the kingdom (A journey that can take years!) he will have a sack full of sand, which he is then expected to forge into a glass crown.

It is one of their (many) sacred traditions that each monarch fashion his own crown, and is a superstition that the crown itself will be a portent of that king's rule. Prince Kha-po-yin (Forming their names with the English alphabet is a nightmare, I will suffice with phonetic spelling, or his nickname, Cappo) tells that the tradition was created after the overthrow of the Cobra Dynasty, to ensure that any ruler who sat upon the mirrored throne knew both his lands and his people, and that mastery of the art of blacksmithing showed dedication and real world skill.

A prince only has once chance to craft his crown; if he botches the job, he must either wear the faulty crown or abdicate the throne to a younger sibling or cousin. He assured me that such a measure had never needed to be enforced; any Naga who wanted the throne enough to travel the entire country took enough time learning blacksmithing that, while few crowns were perfect, all so far had been beautiful.

Here's the interesting part though; they don't hold a true monarchy, at least, for most of the time they don't. Even with the journey and the time taken to learn the trade skill, many finish their crowns while their parent still holds the throne. Rather than wait for the elder to die or have them abdicate, both parent and child rule at the same time. The newly crowned prince takes on the vast bulk of the duties of the monarchy, while the parents take a more relaxed role as guides and mentors. In a disagreement, their experience and age holds more power, but the prince gains experience and wisdom while the nation as a whole benefits from the steady hand of an experienced ruler.

I asked him further about the iron staves the monarchs held, similar to those favored by eastern monarchies, and on this subject, he was no less verbose! While a prince wasn't crowned until he had finished his own crown, he had the rest of his life to craft an iron scepter, but while the crown was for him, the scepter he would one day make was destined for his firstborn; each monarch carried the scepter made by his parents.

Not even kings can escape times grasp, and when a Diamondback Monarch dies, the newly crowned emperor receives the staff his parents made, that their wisdom might continue to guide his thoughts and actions. He then takes his grandfather's scepter, (Crafted by his grandfather, carried by his father) and uses it to smash his father's glass crown. One shard is donated to their national museum, and the rest is melted down when the body is cremated. The ashes are entombed, with the staff used as a headstone, and the line of succession carries on.

In the unhappy case where a monarch dies young (From sickness or accident) the next in line for the throne is immediately recalled to the capitol, where he becomes the acting emperor for one full year, by which time he must create his glass crown with however much sand he had (or hadn't) gathered up to that point. If the monarch had not yet finished his scepter, the new emperor receives a length of plain iron, undecorated, save for his name wrapped around the shaft.

In the case of a larger catastrophe, or the event that the monarchs died without heirs or their child simply too young for the throne, one of the other nobles of Ocala was to rise to the throne. He was intentionally vague on how one noble (of the many!) were chosen, but said that the only real stipulations, were that the emperor be a well-travelled Diamondback Rattlesnake. I raised the concern of inbreeding (A notorious problem in Europe) and he replied that any child of a diamondback was born a diamondback. The colors and spacing might change with lineage, but the signature rattle is apparently an incredibly dominant trait in the bloodlines.

This new information almost sparked an entirely new discussion on Naga heredity and genetics, but the prince regretted to inform me that he needed to return to his forge. My hand surely trembles with excitement at what he said next, I put it to paper for I will surely awaken tomorrow with the belief that it was a fanciful dream!

He had grown quite friendly towards me through the conversation relaxed easily in the soot of his forge, and made an offer no outsider before had heard. He wished to know more about our fledgling country and was willing to be the first of the Naga Monarchs to seriously consider diplomacy with the USA. The British treatment of the Indigenous people had earned them a dark reputation in the Naga's eyes, but I apparently had made a good enough impression (on an individual scale, at least) that he asked me to be his traveling companion!

He told me that a prospective prince might take a single companion with him for the journey, and if I were to accompany him, it would give the both of us far more time to converse than the scant month we'd been allotted on our arrival. I regretfully informed him that I had not brought enough gold (this being their currency, still) for the journey, at which point he grew quite offended. Naturally, I would be his guest, fed and housed on royal coffers. William and Theodore would have to return after their allotted month was up, but I could be the first to see the breadth and depth of their culture! Cappo tried to temper my enthusiasm, insisting that there were many aspects of his culture where I wouldn't be allowed to observe unless I took an active role in them. Far from its intended effect, this only swelled my spirits.

I can only guess that a Native American's coyote genes still count for something here, even if they mean worse than nothing back home, but I'd abandon any care for the –why- so long as I wake up tomorrow and this isn't just a young girl's fantasy. Oh what wonders the future may yet hold for me! I readily agreed, of course, and we are to leave in a week. He is a bit of an odd fellow, prone to sly smiles and loose references that I do not quite understand, but he seems quite the gentleman, and I have no doubt he'll make a fine friend for the journey. And to think, those stuffy professors only brought me along because they needed “That Apachee bitch" as their scribe. Who's the research assistant now, hmm?