Ceremonial Procession
Deep within the Broomflower Royal Palace in Prye City.
In stark contrast to the bustling atmosphere of post-war reconstruction and the vibrant, unbridled growth of emerging territories in Fran City and Carnford in the Northern Territory, a more complex and indescribable aura permeated the depths of the Royal Palace in Prye City.
It was a kind of oppression wrapped in a grand ceremony, sadness hidden beneath a gorgeous appearance, and a silence of being bound by the ropes of fate and powerless to break free.
The massive procession preparing for Princess Louise's marriage to the Northern Territory was currently undergoing final checks and decorations on the vast "King's Square," paved with white marble, outside the palace.
The sheer size of the caravan was enough to take the breath away of any first-time visitor. More than a hundred carriages, each with its own unique decoration, were lined up in a row, including the Princess's gilded eight-wheeled carriage, which was adorned with Broomflower and lily emblems.
There were heavy carriages carrying the "dowry"; light carriages for accompanying female officials and attendants; and Supply Cart.
A forest of flags—the royal deep purple flag with gold trim, the marriage flag symbolizing union, and the Carnford Schmidt Family flag—fluttered in the chilly early winter wind.
Hundreds of court attendants, grooms, and craftsmen scurried about like worker ants, polishing every gilded decoration, inspecting every wheel and harness, smoothing silk curtains, and carefully securing wheat ears and olive branches—symbols of harvest and blessings—to specific positions on the carriage shafts.
From a distance, it was undoubtedly a grand procession displaying the utmost royal grandeur, with every detail seemingly proclaiming the dignity of the royal family and the importance they placed on this marriage.
However, if someone gets closer or has a sharp enough eye, they can see beneath the dazzling facade a hint of barely concealed embarrassment and bluff.
The kingdom had just experienced the plundering of the Sauron and the prolonged panic of the siege. Many territories around the capital were affected, trade was interrupted, and tax revenue plummeted.
The national treasury had long been depleted by years of war and court expenditures, leaving the country to live beyond its means.
At this moment, the royal family simply could not provide much gold, silver, grain, cloth, or other practical supplies to fill the baggage of the Princess who was about to be married off, or to replenish the Northern Territory border territory that was said to be ravaged by bloody battles and desperately in need of all resources.
Therefore, the "dowry" loaded in this grand and seemingly luxurious motorcade had a far greater symbolic and political performance value than any practical purpose.
The majority of the space was occupied by a dozen large and heavy sandalwood chests, filled with ancient books, manuscripts, and historical documents from the royal collection that were of the highest quality and had extremely exquisite bindings, but whose contents were often obscure and profound.
They were carefully wrapped in parchment, separated by silk, and exuded the scent of aged ink and camphor.
This is a symbol of knowledge and orthodoxy, intended to highlight the long-standing cultural heritage of the Broomflower Royal Family and the expectations placed on the son-in-law in terms of "civilization and education." However, for Carnford, who urgently needs to solve the problems of food and clothing and military equipment, its urgency is probably much lower.
Several sets of exquisitely crafted, gilded full-body plate armor for ceremonial use, inlaid with various gemstones and dazzling in the sunlight, along with matching magnificent swords and scepters, were placed on specially made stands and covered with velvet drapes.
They are exquisite, with each pattern telling the story of the craftsmanship of the royal artisans. However, their materials are more focused on lightness, gloss and aesthetics, and some protective strength is sacrificed at the joints in order to pursue smooth lines.
It is unlikely to provide much substantial protection for Carnford's soldiers on the actual battlefield; it is more suited for display in future Lord's Hall or for extremely important ceremonial occasions.
Some of the large-scale, lavishly framed oil paintings, created by the court's chief painter and his apprentices, depict famous and glorious battles in the history of the Goldflower Kingdom, solemn portraits of past Former King, or mythological scenes symbolizing good fortune and royal power.
There were also a limited number of gold and silver artifacts from the royal treasury, as well as brightly colored but too heavy silks and brocades that were more suitable for decoration than everyday wear.
These items were less a dowry and more a carefully orchestrated political show for various domestic and international powers, designed to use visual luxury to mask material scarcity and maintain the crumbling facade of the royal family.
The air in the square was crisp and cold, but there was little festive noise to be heard.
The officials in charge of the event looked serious, and their hushed conversations carried a sense of weariness and helplessness at having completed their task.
The guards stood tall and straight, but their eyes were somewhat vacant.
A heavy silence enveloped the magnificent setting, as if everyone tacitly understood how pale and powerless the core of this grand ceremony truly was.
The Princess's bedroom, the "Silver Lily Hall".
Compared to the "lively" square, this place is more like an elaborately decorated prison, even though the shackles are invisible.
The heavy velvet curtains were half-drawn, allowing only a few pale rays of sunlight to filter through, casting hazy patches of light on the smooth, dark floor.
The air was filled with an expensive, cool fragrance, yet it couldn't dispel the lingering loneliness.
Princess Louise did not try on those layered and elaborate wedding gowns or repeatedly practice her farewell and journey etiquette as the court etiquette officials had expected.
She simply sat quietly on a cushioned embroidered stool by the window, wearing an elegant moon-white linen dress with a dark blue wool cardigan over it. Her smooth black hair was simply tied back with a ribbon, and she wore no makeup.
A beautifully bound book of poems lay open before her, but her gaze was fixed blankly out the window, as if piercing through the layers of palace walls, the continuous rooftops, and the distant city walls, looking towards that remote, cold, and completely unknown northern land.
Although her stepmother, now the Regent Empress Dowager Katerina von Eisenberg, had already lifted the restrictions that had effectively placed her under house arrest after the Imperial Edict was issued and the situation was settled, allowing her to move freely within the palace grounds and even symbolically allocating more maids and supplies to her, Louise had no interest in taking advantage of this "freedom."
Her fate had already been decided by that cold, hard parchment from the pinnacle of power, and it was unchangeable.
She was married off to the Northern Territory.
She was to marry a "young hero," a "Guardian of the Northern Border," whose name she had only heard of in battle reports, court poets' hymns, and the complex discussions among nobles.
Admittedly, all the descriptions point to a near-perfect image.
Karl von Schmidt, surprisingly young, even two years younger than her, had already achieved remarkable feats in turning the tide of battle; he was handsome, brave, and resilient, and single-handedly established himself in the desolate border region.
But these empty and distant praises, constructed by the words of others, seem so pale, illusory, and even frightening to a young girl who is about to entrust her entire life, her joys and sorrows, and even her body and soul to them.
He was a complete stranger, someone she had never seen smile or anger at, never heard voice, knew nothing of his likes and dislikes, and had absolutely no emotional connection with.
His image is more like a symbol pasted on war reports and marriage documents than a flesh-and-blood husband who can be relied upon and accompanied.
The thought of leaving the palace where she grew up, where every corridor and garden was filled with memories of her childhood and adolescence, and leaving the bustling and familiar Prye City, was unbearable.
To travel to that borderland described as harsh, barren, ravaged by snowstorms, and fresh from the carnage of war, to live with a symbolic stranger, to fulfill the duties of a wife and future mother, and to spend what may be a long and lonely life ahead...
Her heart was filled with a chilling fear, an endless sense of bewilderment, and a sorrow that stemmed from a feeling of having no control over her own destiny.
"Your Her Highness the Princess..." A soft call rang out, accompanied by almost inaudible footsteps.
Alice, her personal maid, a girl of similar age who had grown up with her, tiptoed in, carrying a cup of herbal tea that was already lukewarm.
Alice's eyes were red and swollen, her voice trembling with barely concealed sobs, "Your Empress Dowager... just sent someone again to say that if you... if you wish, you may leave the palace today for a stroll... to take one last look at Prye City. The servants have already prepared an inconspicuous carriage... in a few days, the ceremonial procession will officially depart..."
Alice spoke, looking at the Princess's increasingly thin and pale profile, she couldn't hold back her own tears, which rolled down her cheeks like broken beads, dripping onto the luxurious carpet and leaving dark stains.
"Your Highness... this journey is long and arduous, and the Northern Territory is such a... such a place... perhaps... perhaps I will never... return..." She sobbed uncontrollably, the last few words almost drowned out by her sobs.