April tenth. The sky was a brilliant blue, the breeze fresh and pleasant, and the sunshine warm and bright, spilling over everyone and breeding a gentle sense of languor.
The plaza outside Nekssar Palace was ringed by knights of the "
"They're coming! They're coming!" someone shouted, and the crowd fell silent in an instant, every gaze converging on the central avenue guarded by the "Judgment Knights."
Black carriages emblazoned with the Flame of Mysteries crest, pulled by specially selected silver-grey dragonscale horses, rolled slowly down the street and into the plaza before Nekssar Palace.
Stepping from the carriages came one upright gentleman after another, one tall lady after another, all dressed in the Holm Kingdom's most fashionable black double-breasted formal coats and wine-red tiered gowns. Were it not for the black-and-silver Arcane badges on their chests and the silver-and-black Ring Magic badges, no one would have guessed they were mysterious, eerie magicians — they looked for all the world like members of the upper crust, setting the trends of fashion.
"So beautiful! Witches aren't anything like the Church used to describe — pale, gaunt, drinking human blood. They're no different from ordinary ladies. Just like the Voice of Mysteries said." A young man stared, dazzled. Though Rantel had plenty of magicians and apprentices, they never openly declared their identity, so the vast majority of citizens had no idea what magicians actually looked like. Fed by the Church's propaganda, they had been left with a rigid impression, which was now gradually being overturned under the influence of the Voice of Mysteries.
A young woman beside him widened her eyes and chimed in: "Exactly! I always thought magicians all looked the same — pale faces, withered skin, hands like chicken claws, liking to dissect corpses at night, stinking to high heaven. But now? The difference is night and day…"
The Intelligence personnel of the Magic Council, blended into the crowd nearby, chuckled to themselves. This was precisely the reaction they wanted. The High Council had deemed Lord Evans's wedding a key occasion to showcase the new image of magicians, which was why they had selected those who could represent the spirit of the new era to serve as Lord Evans's attendants. They had also ordered most of the necromancers of the Pale Hand to stay put in Heidler City and refrain from wandering about today. The goal was clear: to make every ordinary person understand that magicians represented the greatest power and the deepest knowledge, that they embodied the forward march of civilized society, and that they fulfilled the developmental aspirations of the broadest masses.
"But I heard that in the old days, witches were terribly seductive," another man said with a touch of regret. "Pale and gaunt, yes, but unearthly gorgeous."
Similarly, there were women who sighed wistfully: "Actually, a pale yet handsome gentleman, focused and serious as he dissects a body — don't you think that's incredibly cool and attractive? Like Mr.
At this, the intelligence operative could only shake his head. Just as Lord Evans had said — once you had enough of them, tastes would inevitably grow complicated. And once everyone had grown accustomed to the new image of magicians, they might even need to circle back to the mystique angle.
By the time the magicians had all taken their positions flanking the red carpet, the onlooking crowd realized they still hadn't spotted today's main character — Lucian Evans.
Just as they were wondering, a tremendous roar suddenly echoed from midair. The aura of terror it carried made every knight, magician, and ordinary person who sensed it shudder slightly, as though facing the most apex of creatures.
Then the brilliant blue sky abruptly darkened. Enormous wings partially blotted out the light above, and a semi-transparent figure descended from the heavens, landing in the center of the plaza.
"A dragon!" someone shrieked.
Here in the kingdom's capital, shielded by layer upon layer of formidable power, their understanding of dragons was limited to legends and the program "Man and Nature."
The dragon's fearsome head was held high in pride, its crystal scales reflecting the sunlight, weaving together into a layer of luminous, pure radiance. People suddenly realized that in addition to being terrifying, dragons were also strikingly beautiful!
After the initial moment of fear, someone pointed at the dragon's back: "There's someone up there!"
"So Lord Evans rode in on a dragon? How cool!"
Amid a chorus of envy and longing, a kind-hearted young woman murmured: "Dragons are intelligent, sentient beings. Wouldn't using one as a mount hurt its pride?"
Little Crystal Afreis shot her a glance. Hurt pride — she could send plenty of that his way. Just thinking about the "borrowed" Blizzard Medal "Quantum" and those bags upon bags of gleaming, beautifully colored gold, it couldn't help but salivate, already calculating whether it might develop a "Dragon Knight" tourism venture in its spare time.
On the crystal dragon's back, a young man in a black tailcoat flew down and landed at the head of the red carpet. He wore a black bow tie, his back perfectly straight, his build moderate, his features refined, his demeanor gentle and elegant. His dark black eyes were deep and fathomless, like a lake that could draw in a person's very soul.
"As expected of the great musician!"
"Just like the legends say!"
One after another, young men and women expressed their admiration with satisfied sighs — he was even better than they had imagined.
Lucian walked at a measured pace, neither fast nor slow, treading the red carpet into Nekssar Palace.
Meanwhile, lurking in the crowd nearby, the Flame of Primordial Origin nodded toward Ktonia in the shadows: "Heatherwood, Winston, and several Legends are here. We'll bide our time and wait for an opportunity when Heatherwood is the only one protecting them."
With that, he slipped silently out of the crowd and vanished without a trace.
Ktonia's expression shifted between light and shadow. He already knew about the Flame of Primordial Origin's preparations, and he understood clearly that the chances of success were high. But why was he entangled with them? Through his own channels, or through the Church's?
He drew a deep breath, forcing down the swirl of suspicions, and continued to focus on Nekssar Palace. He had already come this far — there was nothing to do but press on resolutely.
…………
Inside Nekssar Palace, the Queen's chambers.
Lucian saw Natasha in her snow-white wedding dress. Though she had worn white court gowns and white knight's attire before, those were always simple in design. It was rare to see her in something so ornate and magnificent — the gauzy lace, the billowing skirt, the pristine white gloves and stockings all combined to make her look like a purple-haired angel, softening the slightly sharp lines of her features, her radiance breathtaking.
"Do I look pretty?" Natasha grinned. The moment she spoke, all the aura of sacred beauty evaporated instantly — she was still that spirited, dashing knight through and through.
Lucian looked at Duke Vaolet, Grandma Heatherwood, and Aunt Camille, all dressed in formal attire and watching him like hawks. He couldn't be as nonchalant as Natasha, as carefree as when they were alone together. Blushing slightly, he smiled: "Beautiful."
Natasha pursed her lips in satisfaction, arched an eyebrow, and then turned to Duke Vaolet with a trace of emotion: "Father, I've finally gotten to show you my wedding."
Duke Vaolet's old heart was filled with comfort. He took Natasha's hand and patted it gently: "I've finally lived to see this day. I've finally seen you in a wedding dress — just as beautiful as your mother. After today, you'll have a life of your own. You'll be someone's wife, someone's mother. Very good, very good."
"The fact that I'm your daughter — that will never change," Natasha said with a wink and a smile.
Duke Vaolet turned to Lucian: "You are a hero — a hero who eased my worries. I hope you will care for her and cherish her for the rest of your days. In poverty or wealth, in sickness or health, in youth or old age — stand beside her, never to part."
Since Natasha was Queen, a ceremony close to a wedding was held within Nekssar Palace itself. The role normally played by a priest or bishop was here taken on entirely by Duke Vaolet — a choice meant to make it more acceptable to the magicians. It would have been far too absurd for members of the High Council to have their wedding officiated by clergy of the Church of the
"I will, in the name of Arcane and Magic," Lucian said, his manner earnest and his gaze sincere.
Duke Vaolet then addressed Natasha: "You will become his wife. I hope you will care for him, understand him, and stand by him always. In… circumstances, stand beside him, never to part."