Chapter 11
The wedding of Apollin and Peter had, in fact, been planned for several months, despite the recent death of Peregrin Norton. However, as the living must continue on their path, Agatha insisted on proceeding with Apollin’s wedding as originally planned.
Although it was irritating that the groom had colorful bruises on his cheeks, it was of no concern since the focus of the ceremony was on the bride—her daughter.
“Oh, Apollin. My dear.”
Agatha wept with admiration.
“It’s as if an angel has descended. This is the most beautiful bride Mother has ever seen.”
“Hehe.”
Apollin, adorned with dazzling jewels from head to toe, proudly adjusted her bouquet.
‘A bride as magnificent as this is rare in the Empire.’
After all, Empress Silvea had personally sponsored her!
The effort Agatha had put in as the Empress’s lady-in-waiting in her younger days was reflected in her daughter’s stunning wedding dress. Naturally, to confirm the fitting of the outfit, Agatha had brought several ladies-in-waiting and made her way to the capital’s temple where the wedding was to be held.
“A truly beautiful bride. Congratulations, Apollin.”
“Thank you, Empress! It’s an honor to have you here.”
“Oh, there’s no need for such formality. Your mother and I are like sisters, so you needn’t be so formal.”
Empress Silvea smiled warmly behind her fan.
With her light golden hair and nearly flawless skin, and her sparkling, captivating sky-blue eyes, she seemed impossibly youthful for someone with an adult son.
However, no one mistook the Empress for merely an ‘ordinarily’ graceful woman.
Who was Silvea Howard, the Empress from the Schroeder family?
She was the only daughter of a family that monopolized the Empire’s magic ores, the mother of a Crown Prince, and a woman who, upon donning the Empress crown, had purged all of the Emperor’s concubines right in front of him.
Yet, the Emperor could not even utter a word against her. The Schroeder family’s magic ores were the purest, and with other mines drying up, the Empire had no choice but to rely on them.
As the Empress surveyed the wedding venue under Agatha’s guidance, she clicked her tongue.
“Tsk. Agatha, is your stepdaughter really not coming?”
“Ah… yes, Your Majesty.”
Agatha’s tears flowed once more.
In truth, she didn’t send an invitation, and since her biological daughter had taken the fiance of the stepdaughter, there was no way she would attend. Silvea was not unaware of the situation’s intricacies, but it’s natural for a mother to bend towards her own children.
“Even if it pains her that her sister is marrying before her, Eugenie Norton is so stubborn.”
“It is merely due to my own shortcomings, Your Majesty. Even though she is not a child born of my own womb, I did my best…”
“Agatha, this is not your fault.”
Silvea patted Agatha’s hand.
“It’s not your fault that she wasn’t born into a good mother’s womb. Like Theodora Norton….. So, you’re blameless.”
“I am deeply grateful for your kind words, Your Majesty.”
Agatha gave a sly smile. Once this ceremony was over, she planned to sell off all the Norton family’s assets.
She would use the money to provide for Apollin’s honeymoon and fund her own travels with a new lover.
At last, Apollin, assisted by several ladies-in-waiting, appeared on the dais. The presence of the Empress made the venue bustling with high-ranking nobles. Apollin was so thrilled she nearly bit her lip.
‘Ah, this is wonderful.’
It was gratifying to see her swiftly married and to enjoy the sensation of everyone celebrating her alone. Everything would be perfect once the groom arrived and signed the marriage contract.
“The groom is arriving!”
The announcer’s voice rang out.
The ceremony was about to begin. Everyone, including the bride, watched with eager eyes as the thick doors opened.
But as the doors swung wide,
“Huh?”
Apollin’s eyes widened in surprise.
Peter Lamburg, who should have been entering, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, five men were lined up on either side of a woman in a sparkling white dress, who stood at the center.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, the crowd erupted into chaos as they recognized the men’s identities.
“Oh, it’s Alfred Wilberforce! The hero of the Hornigold Battle!”
“That must be Duke Troys, known for his beastly prowess!”
“And that man! It’s the fairy boss of La Noir!”
“Gasp, Carter Livingston…! The White Rose of the Temple!”
“The divine artist Magnus! Please, this way…! Support us!”
The men scanned everyone calling out to them but their gazes remained indifferent.
Discussion
0 CommentsReactions
No comments yet.