Callen Deu Luwelton

The stained-glass windows cast ruby and gold colors across the altar. A silent crowd watches. Nobles, ambassadors of the Xianlu Empire, generals, and the king himself. There is a forced solemnity in the air, as if everyone were waiting for something to break.

Duke Callen Due Luwelton stands beside the 15th princess of the Xianlu Empire, a young woman with delicate features, enveloped in foreign imperial silk. Her eyes don't meet his. They are fixed on the ground, on her trembling hands over the bouquet. She seems like a fragile statue disguised as a bride.

The priest, standing among them, raises his hands, his voice echoing in the silence: Priest: — Your Grace, Callen Due Luwelton, Duke of the Dark House, do you accept this young woman as your lawful wife, uniting your house with that of the throne of Xianlu?

Callen remains motionless for a second longer than he should. The silence weighs heavily.

He then lets out a low, discreet, but deep sigh. A sigh from someone who has already lost. Callen: —...I accept.

A hushed murmur runs through the hall like a muffled thunder.

The princess swallows hard, hesitates. The priest looks at her. father: — Your Highness, do you accept the Duke of Callen as your lawful husband, with an open heart and under God's blessing? She hesitates. Her voice is barely audible. Princess: — I-I accept.

Priest: — May they be united by duty, by honor... and by the blood of their covenants. May God bless them.

Callen doesn't turn to the princess. He doesn't smile. He simply extends his hand with ceremonial coldness. She takes it, hesitant. The ceremony ends. The applause sounds like beaten steel.

The silence in the room is thick as smoke. The moon filters through the tall windows. The princess, still wearing part of her wedding attire, stands near the door, motionless, with her hands clasped in front of her body. Callen, with his back to her, slowly takes off his leather gloves, placing them on the table. Princess: (low voice) — Should I... sleep here? He stops, without turning around. Callen: — No. A moment of silence. Callen: (more calmly) "There's a room prepared for you down the other hallway. You won't be disturbed." Princess: — Oh... thank you. More silence. Tense. Long. Callen: — Go rest, Your Highness. From tomorrow, you will be presented as the Duchess of Luwelton. But nothing more than that will be expected of you. She hesitates, then makes a short bow. Princess: — Thank you...for your gentle coldness. Callen doesn't answer. He just watches as she crosses the hallway, disappearing with light steps. When the door closes, he allows himself to close his eyes. A moment of exhaustion.