The Sun Is Hot, the Sky Is High, and the Greenery Is Verdant - 6
A duke’s wedding is a once-in-a-lifetime grand event for the nobles of the Empire.
That was why the guest list glittering through the hall was itself a spectacle of rank. High nobles of count rank and above, senior administrative officials of director-general grade and higher, army commanders of corps-level and above, and even provincial judges who each oversaw an entire court—nearly everyone who could be called a pillar of the Empire had gathered in one place.
Half these faces I don’t even know.
The guests were not limited to domestic figures, either. Foreign dignitaries who rejoiced in Trixie’s happiness as if it were their own filled the seats as well.
Simply checking the guest list had been an ordeal. Anyone who crossed a border for this must have held Trixie in the highest esteem, and among the countless mages of the continent, those who received an invitation were heavyweights in their own right. As her husband it would have been the height of rudeness not to know their names; there was no need to start promising connections on an awkward footing.
The only minor snag was that guests from every corner of the continent meant old blood-feuds were sitting under the same roof.
“Today will be remembered as the happiest day of my life. I hope every honored guest gathered here will feel the same.”
At Trixie’s soft-spoken warning even the bitterest rivals shook hands with smiling faces.
They were almost certainly cursing each other’s parents, cousins, and ninth-degree relatives in their hearts, but what choice did they have? The living legend of their profession had just personally announced that anyone who ruined the wedding would die. Compliance was the only option.
Besides, personal grudges or not, sabotaging someone’s wedding was simply uncivilized. Fortunately, mages might be obsessive about magic, but they were not complete lunatics devoid of common sense.
“I offer my heartfelt congratulations on your marriage, Your Grace the Magic Lord. This is a blessing for the Empire and a joy for the entire continent. As a junior who has long looked up to Your Grace and grown my dreams in your shadow, I am overwhelmed simply to stand in this place.”
Speaking for every foreign mage who had crossed the border, Duke Kilanas bowed deeply at the waist.
Age, title, office, reputation, even the power of his homeland—Duke Kilanas was more than qualified to represent every mage present. That a man of such stature had come all the way to the Empire and lowered his head was a curious sight, yet I had grown used to it. If one was Trixie’s husband, one would be seeing this for a lifetime.
“If I have been of any help to fine juniors such as yourself, nothing could please me more. And when that junior travels so far to celebrate my happiness, it becomes a beautiful story that will be remembered in history.”
Trixie answered Duke Kilanas’s ninety-degree bow with a gentle smile.
A junior who claimed to have drawn inspiration from her standing before her after crossing half the continent—even for Trixie it must have been a satisfying moment.
The wedding of the Minister and the Magic Lord proceeded in grand yet utterly quiet fashion.
It feels like I’ve walked into a chapel service.
Of course one does not make a racket during a wedding, but even allowing for that the atmosphere was far too solemn and still.
I was impressed. Was this the Magic Lord’s sheer controlling presence? Even with a hall packed with mages—who statistically contain a higher proportion of eccentrics than ordinary people—there was not a single disturbance. That was something I, the Emperor, could not have managed even if I personally stood watch.
Anyone would have trouble, really.
Even the legendary Great Emperor Aimanka, a hero utterly beyond my measure, had been unable to rein in the free-spirited founder of House Katoban, the Snow-Sword Duke. Only the Magic Lord, the absolute peak of the mage hierarchy, could have achieved this.
This time it will pass quietly.
Hope finally sprouted in a corner of my mind. I had fretted that this wedding, like the last, might end in chaos; now it looked as though the ceremony would conclude without incident. A genuine relief.
I had worried a great deal. More than the flood of foreign mages, I had genuinely feared that Enen’s blessing might descend once again.
I know how insane that sounds. The me of a year ago would have scoffed at such nonsense. Yet Enen’s blessing had in fact fallen during the Minister’s previous wedding. Ignoring a precedent is lazy and irresponsible.
…Of course a second blessing was never going to fall.
As the ceremony wound down with no sign of divine light, I quietly exhaled in relief.
Yes, this was proper. What kind of person receives a god’s blessing not once but twice? Anyone so favored would have to walk the path of the priesthood no matter what secular office they held—and the next Pope, or the one after that, would already be decided.
Naturally I had no intention of shipping the Minister off to the Holy Kingdom. Even if I had to invent a Ministry of Faith inside the Imperial administration, I would never let him go.
“—Before all assembled, these two have sworn eternal love. Heaven’s Enen is well pleased by that pure and passionate vow; therefore I declare that in this place a new husband and wife have been born.”
At the declaration of Cardinal Malio, head of the Servette Archdiocese and master of ceremonies, a faint sob rose from the rear of the hall.
I did not need to look to know who it was. Count Scilla, steward of the Grand Duchy of Servette. He had been dabbing at his eyes with a moved expression since before the ceremony began; at last the tears had won.
And if one listened carefully, the weeping was not coming from only one place.
Loyal retainers, all of them.
I chose to think of it that way and ignored the sounds.
Even I found it miraculous that a Magic Lord had married in my own generation; how much more so for retainers who had served the line across multiple generations? Their emotion went far beyond mere curiosity.
The wedding held at the villa concluded without a hitch.
Thank the heavens nothing happened.
I let out another internal sigh of relief. I had half-expected Enen to make a surprise appearance mid-ceremony, but the worry had remained only a worry.
Mad as it might sound, what else could I do? I had not been guarding against something that had never occurred; I had been guarding against something I had already lived through. Of course I kept the anxiety to myself—anyone who frets “What if a god blesses the wedding?” is clearly not right in the head.
While I was hobbling through the rounds of greetings, Rory approached with a bright smile, the bridal bouquet in her hands.
“Master! Congratulations on your marriage!”
“Heh. Thank you. When it is your turn, I shall be the first to congratulate you—so look forward to it.”
Trixie stroked Rory’s hair with a fond smile.
Still as fresh as the day it was made.
My gaze fell on the bouquet Rory was holding.
It was painfully familiar. The same bouquet Mar had handed to Trixie had, after roughly six months, found its way into Rory’s hands. Whether some preservation spell had been cast or not, it looked every bit as vivid as it had half a year ago.
The feeling that left me with was… complicated. I understood the symbolic weight of a bridal bouquet, but recycling the exact same one still felt a little much. Outsiders would think we were practicing extreme thrift even with wedding flowers.
I can’t exactly confiscate it, either.
I looked back and forth between the giggling Rory and the bouquet. Seize it from a girl this happy? I am not that cruel.
Besides, if the bouquet were taken from her she would smile to my face and then cry alone later, and that thought hurt even more.
…We’ll just use it again when the children marry.
I arrived at a rather unique conclusion. If Trixie had already layered magic on the thing, it would easily last decades.
From this day forward that bouquet was a family heirloom of House Krasius. We would show the continent that recycling, when measured in units of decades or centuries, becomes art.
The wedding to be held in the Elf Sanctuary had been scheduled for five days hence. In my heart I had wanted to hold it immediately after the villa ceremony, but Grandmother had declared that day an auspicious one, and there was simply no refusing her.
Moreover the Elf Sanctuary, unlike the ordinary demi-human protected zones open to tourists, was strictly closed to other races. Having been granted the courtesy of holding a wedding there, matching Grandmother’s preferred schedule was only proper filial piety.
“How do I look? Nothing improper about the attire, is there?”
With a little breathing room before the next ceremony, Mother had her ensemble inspected by Trixie several times over.
Strictly speaking it was not inspection so much as a one-sided request for Trixie’s opinion, yet Trixie answered every question without the slightest hint of annoyance or awkwardness.
“It is perfectly fine. Elven culture is not greatly different from human culture in these matters; Mother’s attire already possesses more than enough courtesy and dignity.”
At those words I instinctively turned my head.
Elven culture and human culture differ a great deal. Was that not precisely why someone who publicly touched Trixie’s ears once got into such trouble?
“Is that so? Then what about this—”
“My dear. I understand your feelings, but our elven daughter-in-law says it is fine. What you are wearing now is more than enough.”
Just as Mother was about to lift the next dress, Father firmly intervened.
A timely stop. I gave him a small nod of thanks. If he had not cut her off we would have been trapped in a forced fashion show until evening at the earliest.
“But Billy, this isn’t just anyone—we’re going to meet our daughter-in-law’s grandmother. We can’t appear looking shabby.”
“What nonsense is that? In my eyes you are perfect no matter what you wear. Shabby? Impossible.”
At the blunt praise Mother fell silent for a moment, then quietly set the dress back down.
I was moved. So Father was capable of that sort of affection after all.
Once Erich graduates, there’ll be another little one running around.
When Erich finished his studies he would become the acting assemblyman, and Father would automatically wash his hands of Imperial Diet business entirely. He would evolve into a pure land-bound freeloader with nothing to do but stay in the territory.
What exactly would happen when a freeloading Father spent twenty-four hours a day glued to Mother? My heart was already pounding with anticipation.
In a few days the Honorary High Priestess would arrive here.
Please!
I prayed with desperate sincerity before I even realized it. A god praying to someone else was absurd, yet right now I wanted to lean on any deity who would listen.
Please, please let nothing happen at my Honorary High Priestess’s wedding! She’s all I have left! Taking even a pauper’s last remaining treasure is just too cruel!
Constantina already has her fairies and her elves!
Once the World Tree is fully revived the spirits will return to the continent as well!
So Enen, please! For the sake of the old days when I looked after you—please!
“Sky Auntie, Sky Auntie.”
“What are you doing? What are you doing?”
The moment my desperate prayer began, those wicked children of Constantina sidled up with innocent faces.
You’re trying to steal my Honorary High Priestess while pretending to be pure, aren’t you? I see right through you!
But I will not lose her! How could the lofty sky ever be defeated by mere plants growing from the earth!