"It’s been seven years since the Convergence. We’ve had trade with Terrasper, we’ve had their people settling in our cities; hell, half the new weapons and vehicles we use come from their technology combined with our magic. It’s time to accept that this is the new normal."
"Still don’t trust them," Gorn muttered.
"Remember what it was like that first year? The chaos? The panic? People with strange powers we’d never seen before, technology that made our mages look like children playing with toys. Thought it was the end of the world."
"Wasn’t so different on Terrasper, from what I hear," the second man said thoughtfully.
"They had their own panic. Magic appearing suddenly. A lot of people died on both sides before we figured out how to coexist."
"And now we’re marrying into their nobility," the first man said, shaking his head in wonder.
"Duke Harrington’s boy taking a Terrasperan bride. Alliance marriage, they’re calling it. Strengthening ties between worlds."
"Pretty girl, that one," Gorn admitted grudgingly.
"Saw her in the procession. Looked like a fairy tale princess."
"Looked like she doesn’t like the marriage, if you ask me," the second man said quietly.
"Eyes were all wrong. Like she wasn’t really there."
"Probably just nervous," the first man dismissed.
"Big day tomorrow. Lot of pressure."
Jorghan listened to their conversation while nursing his drink, gathering what information he could.
So the wedding was tomorrow, a public event designed to showcase the alliance between the Holy Empire and the Terrasperan nobility. That meant security would be overwhelming, but it also meant chaos, crowds, and opportunities.
He ordered food and continued listening, piecing together details from a dozen different conversations.
The wedding would be held in the castle grounds, on a platform visible to the public. Nobles from across the Holy Empire had traveled to attend. Even some representatives from Terrasper itself had made the journey.
As the evening wore on and the crowd in the tavern grew more drunk and more talkative, Jorghan learned more.
The Harrington family was old money, one of the founding houses of the Holy Empire.
Duke Everett Harrington was a cautious, conservative man who had been reluctant to embrace the changes brought by the Convergence.
But his son, Lord Caden Harrington—the blonde man from the carriage—was different.
He saw opportunity in the new world order and saw profit and power in alliances with Terrasper.
This marriage was his idea, his way of cementing his family’s position in a changing world. And Scarlett, daughter of one of Terrasper’s wealthiest families, was the perfect prize.
Wealthiest? Huh, that bastard must have become richest person with the wealth I left behind. Jorghan thought to himself.
Before he died, he had killed every rival in their business, giving him access to the influence and power one can have.
Jorghan left the tavern as the bells tolled midnight, his mind already working through possibilities and plans.
He found a cheap inn on the outskirts of the city, paid for a room with some of the money Grisha had given him, and settled in to rest and prepare.
Sleep came in fits and starts, interrupted by memories he couldn’t suppress.
Jamie’s face, twisted with worry about his son
He won’t give them easy deaths; they will beg, and they will pray that dying would be much better than living..
He will make sure to make them feel the despair and dread.
And in his visions, he was seeing the red lilies again, the ones he had almost forgotten.
The red dot in his consciousness pulsed steadily, neither approving nor disapproving, simply observing. It had been quieter lately, as if waiting to see what Jorghan would do.
Morning came too quickly and too slowly at once.
Jorghan rose before dawn, checking his shoulder.
The wound had healed significantly overnight, reduced to pink scar tissue that would likely fade completely within another day. His body’s enhanced healing was working overtime, fueled by the ambient mana.
He dressed in simple but clean clothes—dark trousers, a white shirt, and a long coat. He looked like any other common citizen come to witness the spectacle of a noble wedding.
The city was already awake when Jorghan emerged from the inn.
People filled the streets, all moving in the same direction—toward the castle.
The wedding was being held at midday, and apparently the entire city had been given the day off to attend and celebrate.
Jorghan joined the flow of humanity, keeping his head down and his presence muted. He had learned long ago how to become invisible in a crowd, how to be just another face that drew no particular attention.
The castle grounds had been opened to the public, though only to a certain extent. Wooden barriers created a large square in front of the castle itself, with a raised platform at the center. This was where the ceremony would take place, visible to all but far enough from the crowd to maintain security. Guards lined the barriers at regular intervals, their armor gleaming in the morning sun, their weapons ready.
Around the barriers, the crowd was already gathering—thousands of people, pressing forward for the best view. Vendors moved through the throng selling food and drink, flowers, and commemorative items.
Musicians had set up in various spots, playing cheerful melodies. Children ran between the adults’ legs, laughing and playing.
It was a festival atmosphere, a celebration.
And at the center of it all would be a girl who didn’t want to be there, forced into marriage by political necessity and magical compulsion.
Jorghan found a spot near the front, close enough to see clearly but not so close as to draw attention. He settled in to wait, his eyes constantly scanning the area, noting guard positions, exit points, potential weapons, and anything that might prove useful.
The hours crawled by.
The crowd continued to grow.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, and the air grew warm with the press of bodies and the heat of early summer.
Finally, as the bells tolled noon, the ceremony began.