Dragons do not wear crowns, or at least, they do not need to.  

The horns that grow naturally from their heads are sign enough as a crown to the other races. What dragon rulers do wear is a sort of headdress, that may or may not have a proper crown incorporated into it. Each headdress is custom made to accentuate and compliment the horns of the dragon that wears it.  

The headdress that King Pyram wore featured a golden facade with red jewels that sloped down as it reached the back of his head. Long reddish plumage added volume from behind and fanned out to provide a backdrop for his ivory rack. Gold chains loosely connected between each branch and the tips of his branching horns were gold capped, with pearls hung from gold chainlets that swung whenever he moved his head.  

This headwear would distinguish him as ruler amidst dragons.  

Syn's headdress was less splendid. Right now it was really just a platinum circlet with five points on his forehead, since he was the fifth and only remaining heir. The material wasn't gold, else it would blend in too well with his golden scales. Syn's horns were straight, smaller, and fewer in comparison. Not meaningfully distinct from any other dragon in the world. But it was well known that the completion of the recognition ceremony would encourage growth of more and larger horns, so his headdress was planned to be expanded after that happened. 

That day was today. 

Syn rubbed the rim of the circlet on his head as he waited in his regal chariot. Aside from his circlet, he wore nothing but his bare scales, which was customary for the recognition. His nerves were keeping his mind busy as he waited for the cue from his father's speech. The tunnel he was poised to exit had only a few openings from which light and sound filtered through.  

Draconia had a dedicated stadium where each of its rulers had historically been recognized by the Covenant. The outermost ring held prominent observers from both nobles and the public. There was an open space and then an inner ring containing support staff and an orchestra with choir. A large central stage hosted covenant zealots that were to participate in the ritual. There was also a cave, its entrance stylishly sculpted and religiously guarded, at the far end of the stadium.  

Today, the crowd seemed to be in good spirits. The stands filled with the sound of eager conversations and animalistic rumblings as everyone waited in anticipation.  

King Pyram stood upright atop the herald perch of the stadium, his pearlescent scales lustrous in the light. With his wings outstretched, he used his breath to amplify his voice so that all may hear. Silence fell as everyone listened to the overpowering volume of his announcement.  

"We are gathered here on this day, in order to witness the ordination of my son, Syn Sevis."  

"For his coming of age, he shall not only inherit the responsibilities of a Prince of Draconia, but also mark a claim as a rightful successor to that ancient past."  

"Like past kings, he shall be recognized by the Covenant of the Heartfyre."  

"Joining the pursuit of all Draconia, in stoking the embers of the fallen empire under one banner."  

"In reigniting the Heartfyre, which was lost so long ago."  

The King paused for a long moment. His head was static, not even a breeze budged his headdress.  

"I am proud of my child. He has proven himself of the righteous sort. Bravery, loyalty, and steadfastness guide his ways... "  

As Syn heard these words he wondered, was he really worthy of all this praise? All of these people, how had he helped any of them? Why did they care? Was his father truly proud of him? If he was he hardly showed it, instead he only shared his expectations.  

Syn felt like an imposter.  

But soon he'd be able to change that feeling. He'd be able to do things to change Draconia for the better. To be the prince Draconia needed.  

His father was nearing the end of his speech, so syn prepared. Smile and wave as you go, He reminded himself.  

"...bring forth a bright future, for Draconia, and for the world!"  

"All hail Syn Sevis, come forth!"  

On this cue, music played, the doors opened, and cheers erupted as out from the darkness rode the crown prince on his centaur drawn chariot. The centaurs wore ceremonial outfits bearing Draconia's red and gold colors. They also carried the royal standard in front of them as they strode forward. Banners were flying and flags waved in the breeze as the chariot made a circle around the stage, giving the audience a good look at their prince while passing.  

As he rode by the decorated stands, flowers were thrown and scattered into the air, spreading a fresh and rosy scent. He saw his friends in their respective family booths. They each cheered him on: Felix flourished his wings and talons, Cyrus hollered, and Vispis tossed roses. It rained a multitude of colorful petals over him as he paraded around to the stagefront.  

The triumphant music crescendo grew as he disembarked and climbed up the steps upright and onto the stage.  

Awaiting him on the stage were 121 zealots wearing the vibrant robes of the Heartfyre. The flaming image on their chests changed shades as it reached their limbs, giving each the appearance of a beautiful flame. There were 30 of each race: dragon, griffin, centaur, skarsh, and 1 dragon fantesh that led the entire ritual. Each group had a role to fulfill.  

Syn took his place center stage and lay down, observing the ritual before him. The music turned into a steady rhythm.  

The skarsh were first to act, by stepping up to a long stone trough and pouring the contents of their bowls into it. They filled the trough with various seashells which had been collected from the shores of Draconia, then returned to their places and kneeled.  

The dragons stepped up to the trough wielding pestles and smashed the seashells into a rough powder.  

The centaurs were next, pouring seeds plucked from various grains, fruits, and plants from across the land. They returned to their spots and kneeled.  

The dragons returned to smashing the seeds into the seashell powder.  

The griffins moved next, pouring water that had been collected from clouddrops, directly from the clouds far above. They also returned to kneel in their places.  

The dragons once again smashed the contents of the trough until a paste was created.  

Syn stood up onto all fours in preparation for-  

"HALT! STOP THE CEREMONY!"  

Music stopped and everybody looked up to the sky at the dragon herald that shouted as loudly as possible.  

"THE GRAND FANTESH IS DENYING PRINCE SYN RECOGNITION!"  

Muttering and murmurs could be heard throughout the crowd as the ceremony was halted in order for the Grand Fantesh to make his appearance.  

High in his perch King Pyram was furious, though he wouldn't let it show. He stood stoically, awaiting the fantesh. This did not fool Syn however, he had seen his father hide his true feelings countless times.  

Syn laid down in his spot, anxiously scratching the carved stone platform with a claw or two. He wondered what exactly the fantesh had heard.  

When the Grand Fantesh finally arrived it was like a wave. Covenant acolytes streamed in, their flamelike robes and banners creating the illusion of a river of fire. Morsas, an elk-taur and the Grand Fantesh of Draconia, gracefully stepped up to the top of the stage in sight of everybody so that he may confront Syn.  

The vibrantly clothed elk-taur stepped towards Syn and beckoned with a hand. "Rise, Syn Sevis Prince of Draconia, you must face the accusations that have been brought against you."  

King Pyram spoke down from his elevated position, "Grand Fantesh, what is the meaning of this? Why have you denied my son recognition in the middle of his ceremony?"  

Morsas clasped his hands together, "Apologies, your highness, but this matter was brought to my attention just as of recently. I am afraid this issue must be addressed before I can allow the ritual to complete with good conscience."  

Syn rose, standing upright, facing the fantesh and his elegant, impressive antlers. Like this, Morsas height was at the middle third of Syn's neck. Syn looked him in the eyes, "Proceed," he stated. He was ready to endure this ordeal.  

Morsas motioned to those behind while explaining, "I have brought all witnesses so that they may make their testaments publicly."  

The first to step up was a long blue seadragon who Syn did not recognize. The seadragon pointed at him and accused him of burning down his company, murdering his employees, and stealing his property.  

Syn breathed a deep breath as he saw who was next.  

The guard captain that arrested him that night, along with a certain hammerhead skarsh. The bull-taur confirmed that Syn was the perpetrator that he had caught in the act, and that Syn had identified himself at the time.  

The skarsh stepped forward to present his eye-witness testimony. He was wearing a respectable business suit that didn't really seem to suit him that well.  

"Me name be Garr Hansk, and aye, I be not jus a witness, but a victim too!" He gestured to the scar across his neck. "An I'm a lucky one, the esteamed prince here attacked me and my coworkers while we wore on da job. He decapitated sum my frends an burn de rest alive." He hung his head and shook it side to side, "I was only able ta see em cus of the wide placement of ma eyes."  

Morsas urged Syn now, "These accusations are concerning. Please, give us your explanation, your defense."  

Syn looked around the stands, the crowds were silent with shock and on the edge of their seats with anticipation. Then he examined the fantesh, who held an expectant look in his dark eyes.  

Syn knew that his father wouldn't be able to step in for him in this situation. Whatever he had done to coverup had failed. Syn wasn't nearly as shrewd as his father was, he was too honest for that anyways. He wished Zeritha was here, but she was still under house arrest. He would have to stand up to this on his own.  

Syn exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding, then spoke. "That night, I went to rescue my friend from slavers that had taken her from her family. Originally planned on going in and out unnoticed. But when I had seen the conditions that the slaves were kept in and what they were doing to her, I became enraged. I could not stand the injustice- no, the evil of it all, and decided to end it right then." His tail whipped angrily behind him. 

A moment passed before the Fantesh spoke, "Does either the owner or the employee care to explain what the prince saw that angered him so?" He stroked his bearded muzzle.  

"My company follows standard practices and procedures, same as any business of our sort, " the seadragon boss spat. "I am unsure what about this would cause such an outrageous reaction." He turned his muzzle aside.  

"It's like the bossman says, we was only followin standurd practice," Mister Hansk added, hands behind his back.  

Hearing this made Syn angry once again. You mean that is normal? He gritted his teeth but kept a straight face.  

Before he could say anymore the Fantesh began again.  

"You passed judgment and punishment all on your own. Why not take this up with the proper authorities first?" Morsas' furred throat rippled while his front hoof stamped the ground.  

Syn didn't know what to say.  

"Perhaps you were not soberly thinking that night? You were witnessed to have left a party in drunkenness. These two can attest to that." Morsas gestured to two griffins.  

The parrot and chicken griffins nodded their heads abashedly. Syn recognized that they had been at his party, though seemed uncomfortable being used against him.  

Syn's mouth hung open in disbelief. Murmurs could be heard amongst the observing crowd. Whoever had orchestrated this had him pinned.  

King Pyram landed beside Syn and took command of the discussion. His horns and plumes put even Marsas' antlers to shame. "So, Grand Fantesh, what is your verdict?" His thick whiskers twitched a bit.  

Morsas narrowed his eyes at Pyram's intrusion, but decided to share his conclusion anyway. "Prince Syn has shed blood and abused the power of fire as a result of poor self control and poor judgment," he announced. "Because of his sins, the Covenant finds the prince is unworthy of recognition by the Heartfyre." He paused, then continued. "As such, if the prince still seeks recognition he must undergo a penance. The prince must make a pilgrimage to the ancient capital, or what remains thereof. Only when he returns will he be sanctified and granted his recognition ceremony. Then the sacred cave will end its dormancy and accept him." He returned to holding his hands in front of him.  

Pyram flashed a smirk, spread his wings, and lifted his arms to the audience in declaration.  

"Not only will my son accept this penance and journey on a pilgrimage, but he will prove himself in the line of duty. I will also assign Prince Syn to a campaign on the ancient continent."  

Surprise spread throughout the crowds. The king was sending his only heir into the war?  

Pyram continued, "He will return triumphant and cleansed. There will be no doubt that he is worthy, not only of ruling this nation, but of recreating the old empire!"  

The stands were filled with mixed feelings. While many cheered this proclamation, others were skeptical of such bold and obvious pandering. Still a few were eager to see the prince punished more harshly, or at least fail spectacularly.  

Grand Fantesh Morsas leveled his eyes with the king's. "God willing, your prediction is right. The Covenant has been yearning for the rekindling long enough." He motioned towards Syn and looked him in the eye, "and this one may yet produce sparks."  

After that debacle, King Pyram officially ended the event and wished everyone a good evening. He quietly urged Syn into the royal carriage where they might have some privacy and respite. The carriage door closed.  

"Damn it," Pyram muttered, leaning his head against a paw and closing his eyes. "That damn guard captain, Norris was it? I was sure he'd stay quiet..." His sharp tail flicked as he uttered a low growl, "He'll regret this."  

Syn's visage was downcast, he spoke defeatedly, "So I am to go to the warfront? I did not imagine it would be under such circumstances..."  

Pyram opened his eyes, glaringly at Syn. "We're lucky they thought you were intoxicated. Otherwise, it would be harder to explain your actions under sobriety." He sighed and his gaze softened while he reached for the icebox. He pulled out a colorful looking drink. "Here, I originally prepared this as a sort of victory drink. But it might be useful to douse your suffering."  

The smell of alcohol hit him as he opened the bottle. Syn found it humorous that he was about to imbibe even though he was accused of drunkenness, but he had no energy but to smile. It was supposed to be sweet, but right now everything tasted bitter.  

Pyram put a claw on Syn's shoulder, "Things aren't as bad as they seem." He comforted his son, "You can come back from this. I have great plans for you, I know you can achieve them."  

Syn leaned back in his seat and removed his circlet. He fidgeted with it in his claws while he regarded it.  

He did not feel like much of a prince today.