The people of Guerdon are unsophisticated when it comes to divine intervention – they live in a land of Kept Gods and the dregs of the Godswar. A magic crown appearing to some distant heir? That’s mere sleight-of-hand compared to the real wonders the gods can perform. If the kings of old clawed their way out of the tombs, or if every member of parliament suddenly fused together into a fleshy giant that bestrode the city, carrying Castle Hill as a shield and waving the three cathedrals as a trident, then the spy might be impressed.