The announcement of the expedited wedding hit the Empire like a lightning strike. While the public celebrated, the Senate halls echoed with the sound of grinding teeth. For the "Old Guard," this wasn't just a marriage; it was a warp-speed coronation that bypassed every traditional hoop they loved to make royalty jump through.
Senator Aldrin—still nursing a bruised ego from an audit that threatened his beloved copper bird statue—slammed the heavy oak doors of a private committee room.
"This is not a marriage, gentlemen!" Aldrin hissed, his face a shade of purple that matched the velvet curtains. "It is a coup of courtesy! Crown Prince Vaelorian is dismantling the very notion of Imperial process! First, he ignores our input on the breadbasket project, and now this? A rushed wedding that treats our sacred traditions like garbage!"
Senator Balthazar, a man whose eyebrows seemed permanently locked in a scowl, hammered his fist onto the table. "They have never played by the rules. Vaelorian acts as if our institutions are just trivial hurdles in his path to the throne!"
Aldrin nodded grimly. "We can't stop the wedding. The Emperor's word is final. But we can anchor them to tradition until they sink. If we tie them up in enough petty restrictions now, they'll be too busy filling out paperwork to ever pass that Crown Initiative Act."
Aldrin unveiled his weapon: a desperate, last-minute amendment to the ancient Statute of Separate Chambers. This dusty law mandated that a Ruler and their Consort live in entirely different wings of the palace to prevent "private whims" from distracting the state.
The new wording was a masterpiece of bureaucratic spite:
"The Emperor-Designate shall occupy the Emperor's Wing, and the Consort shall occupy the Official Consort Quarters. No shared living spaces shall be utilized for more than four hours consecutively. If they reject this," Aldrin sneered to his allies, "they look weak and sentimental. If they accept it, we've effectively put their marriage on a timer. It's a beautiful little chokehold."
Back at the palace, the team was in a frenzy. Willow had just returned from a "social visit" to the Senate clerk's office, having memorized the draft scroll word-for-word.
"Aldrin is a petty man, but he's a genius in a very annoying way," Willow said, pacing the length of the war room. "He wants to turn your private life into a scheduled appointment. The vote is tomorrow morning."
Riven looked at the text and let out a dry, sharp laugh. "Four hours? So, according to the Senate, the future Emperor has a four-hour window in a day to be a husband before he has to return to his own wing? Do they expect us to keep a stopwatch on the nightstand? They truly have no imagination."
"They are mistaking me for past Princes who fear their own shadows. They think this is enough to break our united front?" Vaelorian said, his voice calm but dangerous. "They want to see if I'll choose my comfort over the crown. I won't. But I won't let them dictate how I live, either."
Vaelorian looked over at Barron, the team's strategist. "Barron, how thick are the load-bearing walls between the two wings?"
Barron blinked, surprised. "Quite thick, Your Highness. They are ancient stone. Why?"
"Because," Vaelorian said, a devilish smile spreading across his face, "we aren't going to fight this law. We're going to embrace it so hard it breaks."
The team leaned in as Vaelorian laid out the plan.
"We will release a statement tonight," Vaelorian explained. "We will announce that we fully accept the Statute of Separate Chambers. In fact, we find it so important that we are commissioning an immediate renovation to ensure our living quarters are 'separately' joined."
"Joined?" Mira Lune asked, tilting her head. "But the law says—"
"The law says we need separate chambers," Vaelorian interrupted. "It doesn't say how close those chambers have to be. We are going to knock down the dividing walls and create one massive, singular Imperial Residence. To satisfy the law, we will install the most expensive, and massive dividing wall in history right down the middle of the room."
He turned back to Barron. "And we'll announce that the funding for this 'mandatory' structural renovation will come directly from the budget currently reserved for Senator Aldrin's copper bird statue."
Willow erupted into a fit of giggles. "That's perfect! You're making him pay for the very wall that keeps you together."
"Exactly," Vaelorian said. "If Aldrin wants us to follow the letter of the law, he can watch his precious statue be melted down to pay for the bricks. Let's see how he explains that to his donors."
Riven stood by the window, watching the sunset over the capital, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "You know what, I think I'd like that wall to be made of marble. Something very heavy. Something that will last for a long time."
"Only the best for my future Consort." Vaelorian agreed with a smile, joining him in the window.