Afternoon, at the Vayne estate.
"So, you're going to the banquet tonight?"
Leaning against the doorframe, Vayne watched Duke adjust his formalwear. He hung the suit neatly aside, ready to change into it later.
"Mm. I plan to go. The boy's betrothed is Fiona Laurent, the third daughter of the Laurent family. I've met her before, she's as swift and direct as her sword."
Vayne's lips curved faintly. "I have the feeling something interesting will happen tonight."
Duke turned his head toward her. "Do you want to come with me? I still need a partner."
"Me?" Vayne brushed a stray lock from her forehead and gave a wry laugh. "I've nearly forgotten what it feels like to wear a gown."
"There's no rush to remember. You can start again now."
Like a magician, Duke reached into the void and drew out a silvery-grey evening dress and a pair of crystal heels. He raised a brow, the meaning in his eyes all too clear.
Vayne let out a helpless sigh. "You really do leave me no choice."
She closed the door behind her and stepped closer. "Just this once. Don't expect me to repeat it."
"Just this once," Duke echoed with a grin.
Night fell.
At the Marshal's estate, carriages of every kind rolled through the gates. Nobles from across the capital had come to witness the union between two of Demacia's most prominent families.
Among the elegant carriages, one drew every gaze: a monstrous winter wolf, its shoulders taller than a man, with two heads bristling with cruelty, its eyes radiating such menace that all who met them involuntarily shrank back. Its fangs and claws alone promised death.
Yet such a beast, one capable of wiping out a squad in the wild, now pulled an opulent carriage through the estate gates.
The guards did not stop it, on the contrary, they waved it through with priority.
Curiosity swept the onlookers. Who dared to make such a dramatic entrance tonight of all nights?
At last, when the wolf-drawn carriage halted at the front steps, a young man with black hair and eyes stepped down, offering his arm to his partner.
He wore a tailored grey suit, unadorned save for the faint embroidery of crossed hammer and wrench on his chest, an unmistakable mark of identity.
A craftsman of Piltover. And not just any craftsman, but one of rare standing.
At his side, his partner wore a long V-neck evening gown of soft grey, bare white shoulders draped with an Ionian fox-fur stole seldom seen in Demacia. Her black hair was gathered into a neat bun, and crimson eye-shadow traced her blue eyes, lending warmth to her otherwise frosty poise.
"Let's go."
Duke extended his arm. Vayne naturally slipped hers through his, and together, guided by the butler, they entered the hall.
As for Angr, the great wolf, he trotted off to the stables on his own. By now he knew the Marshal's grounds well, so well, in fact, that every horse there already recognized him as their "big brother."
Inside the grand banquet hall, crystal chandeliers bathed the chamber in brilliance. The polished floors reflected the throngs of nobles. Attendants wove among them with trays of wine and delicacies, while soft music drifted through the air.
The nobles gathered in small clusters, each circle tightly knit, nearly impossible for outsiders to breach.
To Demacia's high society, Duke was still an outsider. Yet he had allies here.
Hardly had he entered with Vayne when the Bouvier couple approached, their daughters, Kashina and Sona, following.
"Duke! It's been too long!"
Barrett Bouvier enveloped him in a bear-like embrace, his broad face beaming. Duke returned the greeting warmly.
"It has been, Mr. Bouvier. I'm grateful for all the help you gave me before."
"Think nothing of it," Barrett waved off his thanks. Then his expression softened as his gaze fell on Vayne. "I was deeply saddened by what happened to your parents, child."
"It's nothing. The past is past," Vayne replied with a faint, practiced smile.
Her family had long ties with the Bouviers. After her parents' deaths, they had offered support, but not enough to condone her path of vengeance. Still, she had already seized what she sought.
She cast a sidelong glance at Duke, her eyes unreadable.
"Come, dear," said Lady Lestara Bouvier, taking Vayne's hand. "Let the men talk business, we'll go where we're meant to." She smiled at Duke. "I'll borrow your partner for a while."
"By all means, Madam," Duke answered politely.
Once the women departed, Barrett guided Duke to the balcony, where another man awaited, a distinguished member of the Du Couteau family.
"This is Pierre Du Couteau, third son of Lord Luel."
"A pleasure, Mr. Pierre," Duke said, exchanging a firm handshake.
"My father often speaks of you," Pierre replied with a courteous smile.
"Those with ability are always valued," Barrett interjected smoothly, steering the conversation toward business. Soon the three were deep in talks about the Hex Gate project.
Because of Tianna Crownguard, the Crownguards had been sidelined from the alliance for now. But both the Bouviers and Du Couteaus stood firmly with Duke. The Hex Gates' construction meant too much to them.
"The Council refuses to relent," Barrett sighed heavily. "Jarvan has been under immense pressure."
He had been close to Jarvan III for years, serving by his side since the king's coronation, just as Jarvan IV and Garen shared a bond of brotherhood.
"These pressures will vanish once all see the greatness of the Hex Gates," Pierre declared, his conviction surprising Duke.
Catching Duke's curious look, Pierre chuckled. "I once witnessed a trial run in Piltover. They linked to Bilgewater for trade. I was conducting business there at the time and was invited to observe. It was… breathtaking."
"So you were there," Duke said with a nod. He hadn't attended that demonstration himself, but Dakor had, and she'd reported the overwhelming response.
"Tonight is the union of the Crownguard and Laurent families," Pierre continued. "Jarvan will be here. We can discuss matters with him directly."
At that, Duke thought of Morgana. Jarvan III's reforms needed powerful allies. For abolishing the anti-magic edict, Morgana's support would be invaluable.
"This won't be too difficult," Duke mused aloud. "I have someone in mind, someone who can silence most opposition, and sway the people to fully accept the Hex Gate project."
"Truly?" Barrett blinked in surprise. In all his vast network of contacts, he could think of no such person.
Before Duke could elaborate, a sharp voice rang out:
"Silence!"
The banquet doors swung wide. Jarvan III entered in simple attire, his smile warm and familiar, like a kindly uncle greeting his kin.
"Good evening, everyone."
"Our respects, Your Majesty!"
Tianna Crownguard stepped forward first, bowing deeply. The king's presence drew reverence from all corners; wherever he passed, nobles bent in Demacian salute.
"Your king has arrived," Duke murmured with a smile. Barrett excused himself at once to greet the monarch, leaving Duke and Pierre at the balcony.
Duke's eyes lingered on the scene below. The play was about to begin.
Fiona Laurent would not accept this marriage. A duelist's will could not be bound by politics, only by the blade.
Even as a child, she had shown that spirit. When her mother gave her exquisite dolls crafted by Demacia's finest artisans, Fiona gifted them away to her maid. She preferred the weight of a sword, once even coercing her elder brother into teaching her fencing.
When her father hired master tailors to fashion her gowns, Fiona treated them as dummies to practice her thrusts and parries.
Tonight, without doubt, she would choose the sword over the veil.
Unlike the passing line in history's records, Duke intended to witness it firsthand.
"Tonight," Jarvan's voice resounded through the hall, "we gather to witness the union of the Crownguard's young scion and the Laurent family's cherished jewel."
At that moment, Vayne slipped back to Duke's side, murmuring with a sigh, "If I'd known, I wouldn't have come. This is tedious."
"Patience, my dear," Duke said, handing her a glass of wine. "I'll make it up to you later tonight."
Vayne sniffed and turned away, though she stayed close by his side, waiting with him for the show to unfold.
"I am heartened to see this day," Jarvan III continued warmly. "We all grow old, and the future belongs to the young. To see two such outstanding youths joined is our greatest joy."
His gaze fell fondly on Tianna Crownguard and Sebastian Laurent.
"Your Majesty!"
A voice as sharp as steel cut through the crowd. Fiona Laurent stepped forward, her eyes blazing with determination. Behind her, a young man in his twenties covered his face, unable to watch what he knew was coming.
"What is it you wish to say, my lady?" Jarvan asked gently, still smiling.
In full view of the court, Fiona tore away her heavy gown, revealing the armor and sword beneath. Dropping to one knee, she declared in a steady voice, "I refuse this marriage. I beg you, take back your blessing."
The hall erupted into chaos.
End of chapter....
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