The setting sun cast slanting rays over Red Tide Castle, tracing warm silhouettes around its towers. The entire fief seemed steeped in solemnity.
Bradley stood in the middle of the main wedding hall, the silver-rimmed monocle slipping slightly down his nose trembling with his anxious breaths.
As the chief steward of the Red Tide Fief, he ought to have been unshakably composed, but he had not slept properly for three nights running.
"Raise the Calvin Family's moon-emblazoned banner another half foot... yes, a little higher. It mustn't obscure House Edmund's silver eagle."
He directed the attendants in a low voice, the pages of the thick schedule manual in his hand already curled from constant use.
His gaze swept swiftly over the steps, the guest seating, the entrance, and the altar's central position.
Every detail had been refined to near perfection.
Yet he knew that for a true noble wedding, perfection was never enough.
This was a union that allowed no room for mistakes.
The ceremony would be officiated by a high-ranking cleric from the Northern Frontier, a man of considerable renown there.
Although His Highness Louis had personally simplified much of the ceremony, many essential stages had been preserved in full, keeping it concise yet fitting.
Bradley had even arranged musical accompaniment for every stage, pairing the Red Tide Fief's local ensemble with players of the traditional Northern Frontier Three-String Flute. It was practical while also symbolizing "north and south playing in harmony."
The seating chart had been revised six times.
The front row was reserved for the bride's father, Duke Edmund, Governor of the Northern Frontier, and representatives of the Calvin Family.
The rows behind were arranged by rank and bloodline, seating the Red Tide Fief's core knights, close associates of noble standing, and invited nobles.
Bradley walked to