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Chapter 15
The imperial wedding was splendid yet modestly held.
The ceiling of the Hall of Wings was open, and the bright sunlight poured in, making it seem as if a bird made of clear water was scattering light across the white marble as it flew.
Yellow and white flowers adorned every corner, while transparent crystals and golden beads hung like curtains. A red carpet embroidered with gold thread stretched from the wide-open doors all the way down the hallway.
Guardians in ceremonial armor, polished to a shine, stood in formation holding spears like knights of old.
Every detail was majestic and beautiful, yet the number of guests was not large.
On Seren’s side, the bride’s family had few relatives to begin with, and Wayne, concerned that most were not of status to attend an imperial wedding, had not invited many. Consequently, the bride’s side consisted of only a dozen close relatives.
From the imperial family, only Isbrandt himself was present. In the front row of the groom’s guests were elderly or high-ranking clerics from the imperial lineage—relatively close relatives in status, though not many.
Even high-ranking clerics held no real political power. The empire served the Dragonblood, and the heir of the Dragonblood sat directly on the throne.
The truly important guests sat in the rows behind: the empire’s ministers, elite guardians, and high nobility.
Since the wedding was intentionally small, only the most essential people were invited—but even so, their number was sparse. Chancellor Pharel whispered to his granddaughter Angela, seated beside him.
“His Majesty allowed most nobles not to attend, but I did not expect it to be this empty. I thought people would swarm even in places where entry was unauthorized.”
“Most are away following the House of Larusa to other provinces,” Angela murmured with a quiet sigh.
Pharel shook his head slightly.
“Hmph, fools. Do you think His Majesty would lift even an eyebrow for them? They were never even invited, after all.”
“It’s probably not the Duke of Larusa’s choice, but Princess Eliana’s. And even then, there’s likely no proof—everyone simply went for summer retreats or vacations, I suppose.”
“Even if the capital empties that way, others will just take their place.”
“This isn’t about politics,” Angela said with a smile.
Princess Eliana likely intended only to test the Empress a little—and the Emperor’s mind. What could the Empress do against a social circle that turned away from her? If she could do nothing, how much would the Emperor tolerate? That was the idea.
Pharel nodded seriously. He was right. Whether the social circle would yield to the Empress was beyond the Emperor’s influence, making this the safest test the House of Larusa could conduct.
A similar conversation was happening with Duke Gale and Cleric Bennett, seated in the front row. Both were over seventy, honored retirees.
“I hear Duke Gale has not seen the Empress yet,” Pharel said.
“I do not think it was wise. Hiding her so strictly inevitably leads to gossip, does it not?”
Duke Gale stroked his white beard. Choosing the Empress was the Emperor’s right, and even as a great-uncle, he was merely a subject, so he had no intention of opposing. His concern was that Seren had had no official social activity.
Cleric Bennett smiled lightly.
“Once the imperial wedding is over, all the nonsense will vanish.”
“Indeed. His Majesty has always been too generous. In the time of the late Emperor, no subject would dare act first to covet the Empress’s position.”
“His Majesty is indifferent, and the marriage was late, indeed.”
“It seems all were destined to meet their fates late,” Duke Gale said, drawing the sign of the cross, as if the previous worries never existed.
In an imperial marriage, the most crucial matter is succession. Yet, if possible, finding a partner who could thaw the Emperor’s cold heart and bring him happiness was even better.
Duke Gale did not pretend to offer wisdom; this was his private thought.
“Indeed, there are some concerns,” he added, sighing lightly, and subtly gestured toward the bride’s guests. Wayne Lubav’s siblings, excessively adorned in overly ornate fashions that were out of style, either looked around nervously or loudly displayed their pretentiousness.
Cleric Bennett smiled reassuringly.
“Position shapes people, but if you insert them suddenly, mismatches are natural. The Lubav family will return to Estdel after the wedding, so there is no cause for concern.”
“Is that so? I thought they would remain to pursue advancement.”
“His Majesty’s will.”
“I see,” Duke Gale nodded. The Emperor’s word required no further explanation. It would be carried out as intended.
Cleric Bennett continued,
“The Empress is gentle and innocent. The Duchess of Sons will assist her well, so there is no need for worry.”
“What? Cleric Bennett, have you already met her?”
“I discussed the ceremonial procedures with her, as she seemed to have concerns.”
“And yet you never mentioned it to me until now. Are you boasting about meeting her first?”
“Hardly,” Bennett chuckled.
At that moment, the bell marking noon rang.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
A cleric in ceremonial robes standing beside the altar struck the floor three times with a large winged staff, signaling the start of the imperial wedding.
First to enter was a choir of boys with beautiful voices. A young high-ranking cleric carried incense along the wedding path, performing another purification ritual, while surrounding clerics lit the censers. The Hall of Wings quickly filled with hymn and fragrance.
When the high-ranking cleric placed the censer on the altar and took the winged staff, the hymn ceased. He struck the floor again, thump!
“When winter passes, spring will come.”
“Bless the sprouting life.”
The guests recited the prayer together. Though customary, no prayer suited this wedding better. The winter dragon would reclaim its life pearl, and new life would follow.
Excitement filled the hall. Unlike ordinary weddings, an imperial wedding combined solemnity and complex thoughts, yet joy remained.
But when the groom appeared at the end of the wedding path, silence fell again.
Emperor Isbrandt, though in pure white ceremonial robes, appeared black—as if a winter dragon with jet-black scales stood there.
The Lubav family, who had been vocally responding to the cleric’s prayer, suddenly bowed their heads. Nobles and ministers followed suit, the officiating cleric instinctively bowed, and even the choir’s volume lowered slightly.
The Emperor gave a slight nod. Though unremarkable, it was as if permission had been granted for his presence. The cleric exhaled deeply and raised the winged staff.
Thump!
Technically unnecessary, as all eyes were on him, the cleric followed the rehearsed procedure.
It was then that the bride appeared.
Supported by the Duchess of Sons and another maid, Seren Lubav entered the Hall of Wings along the wedding path. She was delicate and beautiful, adorned in multiple layers of translucent silk. Her voluminous skirt and train seemed to melt into the air like a fragrance.
