Minas Tirith had never been so lively.
Thousands of floating lanterns fueled by whale oil filled the sky. Using copper wires, people arranged them according to a blueprint, building an inverted city of light in the wind.
Minas Tirith, the immense fortress carved into gray-white mountain rock, was engulfed in flowers that day.
To prepare for this ceremony, which violated Article 72 of the Imperial Nobility Code-on the sanctity of monogamous marriage-City Hall had mobilized thirty steam cranes. Silk wrapped their cumbersome mechanical arms as they carried tons of flowers to every platform of the White Tower.
The wind swept up the petals like colorful snow, blanketing the entire city.
Sunflowers from Dawn Territory and violets brought from the Southern Isles by the Golden Sail Merchant Guild cascaded down the city's spiral stairways, concealing the original color of the stone.
Even the grinding gears of the elevators were drowned out by orchestral music. Their cabins shuttled between the city's five levels, carrying elegantly dressed guests to the top.
Atop the White Tower, Veylin stood before a full-length mirror.
He was fastening the last button of his crimson military coat.
Made from the latest high-thread-count wool-blend fabric, the coat took its cut from the military dress uniforms of the Empire's golden age. The lace and tassels had been removed, leaving only crisp lines.
The White Tower insignia was embroidered on its epaulets in fine mithril wire.
A hand reached over to straighten his collar.
"Crooked, but still handsome."
Veylin turned his head. Diana stood to his left.
She wore a wedding dress that would have been considered scandalously unconventional in this era-a white silk gown overlaid with a finely wrought, thin gold-plated breastplate and bracers. Beneath its skirts, mithril battle boots were just visible.
Her long golden hair had been woven