The royal study was wrapped in silence that night. Fire in the hearth
flickered gently, casting light against the stone walls. Arthur sat upright,
eyes filled with resolve. Before him, Marcel, Boris, and Cici waited for the
answer they had long anticipated.
"I've decided," Arthur said firmly. "I will marry Clara."
Marcel showed no surprise, as though he had foreseen it all along. "Just as
we prepared when she was made baroness. I'll send a letter to Ciolove. Once it
arrives, the people will know—within a week, Your Majesty will propose."
Boris, who rarely hid his emotions, broke into a wide smile. "At last! From
the way you've looked at her all this time, we already knew where your heart
leaned."
Arthur then turned to Cici. The maid who had stood by him since the struggle
for the throne bowed her head. "If that is Your Majesty's choice," she said
softly, "then my duty is to ensure everything goes perfectly." A smile touched
her lips, though her eyes dimmed a little. Arthur only met her gaze with quiet
understanding.
The next morning, a royal rider departed with a letter sealed in purple wax.
When it reached Ciolove and was read aloud in the town hall, silence fell for a
breath before cheers thundered through the crowd.
"The king will propose to our baroness!" a merchant shouted, his voice
rising above the marketplace.
"Truly? A baroness can become queen?" an old woman whispered, trembling.
Children ran through the streets with wildflowers in hand, shouting, "Queen!
Queen of Ciolove!"
At the tavern, workers clinked their mugs together. "If our baroness becomes
queen, this town will be remembered forever!" a blacksmith roared, his face
flushed.
Yet in noble dining halls, whispers lingered. "A baroness? Is that fitting?"
asked a young lord. An older noble replied quietly, "If Arthur chooses, there
must be a reason. He is not a reckless king."
At her home, Clara sat on a wooden chair, staring at the royal letter in her
hands. Her fingers trembled, her chest rose and fell quickly. Arthur…
truly? What will happen after this?
A week later, Arthur entered Ciolove without pomp—only his black steed,
Marcel, Boris, and a handful of guards. Yet the streets overflowed with people.
Flowers rained from windows, bells rang in every corner.
The humble town hall was packed. Clara stood at the front, wrapped in a pale
blue gown. Her face was pale, but her eyes still held courage as she met the
gaze of the crowd.
Arthur stepped forward, his voice carrying clear.
"Clara. You shaped this city, stood with your people, and showed a bravery
surpassing many nobles. Will you walk with me, not only as Baroness of Ciolove,
but as queen by my side?"
Arthur bent to one knee—a sight that left the crowd gasping.
Clara held her breath. Is this real? I'm only a baroness in their eyes…
Tears welled, then she smiled. "Yes. I will."
Cheers erupted. Bells clanged, voices roared, flowers filled the air. Marcel
exhaled in relief, Boris laughed softly and clapped his king's shoulder.
For a month after the proposal, Valoria's capital transformed.
Purple and white banners hung on every street. Carpenters raised new gates,
tailors busied themselves with silk, and mages from the tower set mana crystals
in the halls for gentle light. The air brimmed with the scent of bread and
wine—signs of the coming celebration.
Marcel sat in a side chamber, flipping through guest lists. "Every noble
seat must be arranged carefully. But remember, by the king's command—no
divisions between nobles and commoners. They will sit together."
Boris worked with the Security Council. "I want three layers of perimeter.
Doors, rooftops, towers—guard them all. Leave no gap for Solaris spies or
remnants of Roderic's men." Captains bowed and moved swiftly to carry it out.
Cici remained at Clara's side during preparations. She adjusted the white
gown embroidered with silver. "You look radiant," she whispered. "With the way
you stand and the way you meet their eyes… everyone will believe you belong
beside the king."
Clara gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her heart pounded, but her
steps did not falter. I only need to stand tall. That will be enough.
The wedding day came.
The palace gates opened wide. Crowds streamed in, seated beside nobles in
the great hall. Fiddles and drums blended in jubilant rhythm.
The hall glittered like a sky of stars. Mana crystals glowed soft blue,
while thousands of candles cast golden light. Long tables overflowed with
bread, roasted meats, cheese, fruit, and wine. Children laughed and danced,
while Valoria's dwarves raised their mugs in cheer.
An old noble whispered in awe, "Never have I seen a feast like this… king
and commoner eating from the same table." Envoys from Veritas nodded in wonder,
while northern traders pounded the tables, singing with the people.
Arthur stood tall in a black cloak edged with gold. Clara entered in a
simple white gown, a thin veil over her shoulders. Its modesty only heightened
her beauty.
When the vows came, Arthur clasped her hand.
"Today I wed Clara, a woman of Valoria. Love does not choose blood, nor
lineage. Love only chooses a heart brave enough to walk beside another."
The hall roared. Nobles raised their cups, the people shouted in joy.
Brundir the dwarf lifted his ale and bellowed, "Our king is mad… mad with
love!"
That night, Arthur and Clara departed for their honeymoon in Caelora.
A small inn by the river glowed with lanterns. The water shimmered under
moonlight, crickets sang with the river's murmur. Clara stood on the balcony,
restless.
Arthur emerged in light clothes, his body broad and scarred.
Elara swallowed hard, her eyes unable to look away. This body… not
merely a king's body. Each scar tells a tale—of long nights, battles, unbroken
courage. How can one man bear it all alone?
Her hand trembled as she touched a scar across his chest. Tears spilled. You
endured for your people, your crown… and now, for me. How could I not love the
man who carries the world on his shoulders?
With a shaking voice, she said, "I… am not only Clara. I am Elara of
Riverbend. I was afraid you would hate me for hiding it."
Arthur stepped closer, eyes steady on hers. "I've known. Since the first
moment I saw you, I felt it. I only waited until you were ready to speak it."
Clara covered her mouth, sobbing. "You're not angry?"
Arthur gave a faint smile, holding her hand. "Clara or Elara, you are the
same woman to me. The one I choose to walk beside."
Elara fell against his chest, embracing him tightly. Her fingers traced his
scars. "These wounds… there are too many."
Arthur stroked her hair. "They're not burdens. They're proof I endured. For
Valoria… and for you."
Elara bent and kissed a scar on his shoulder. If only I could, I would
take one of these wounds in your place, so your burden would be lighter.
She whispered, "From tonight on, let me carry them with you."
Arthur lowered his head, their lips meeting in a long kiss. Candlelight
flickered in the breeze, bearing witness as two hearts finally united without
veil.
Days later, Arthur returned to the palace. In his study, he unfurled maps of
the rivers with Marcel and Karrel.
"These rivers can give more than water," he said. "With dams and iron
wheels, we can harness currents. We can bring light to every home in Valoria."
Marcel smiled. "If that succeeds, Valoria will be remembered not only for
the sword, but for the light."
Arthur gazed at the candle flame on his desk. "This marriage is only the
beginning. Valoria will become the light of Etheria."