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Chapter 480: The Wedding

Three days later, the wedding of Chief Knight Carter Lannis and the Star of the Western Region, May, was held on the castle grounds.

The guest list included family members, the Star Flower Troupe, the City Hall, and the Witch Union.

In this era, a wedding was always witnessed by the church. Royal and noble ceremonies required a regional Bishop; nobles and merchants could manage with a High Priest or Priestess; ordinary citizens could pay a few silver royals for a Priest to preside. Those who could not afford even that simply lived together unwed.

There was no church in the Western Region. There was a City Hall. Roland had arranged for officers to issue marriage certificates and record registrations at no charge. Carter’s wedding would be the advertisement—the proof of concept for an institution that required no ecclesiastical blessing. He had already composed the slogan in his head: Convenient, legitimate, and free of charge.

When the bride appeared, there was a collective intake of breath from the assembled guests.

She was not a witch, but she was a star, and the crowd she drew was proof of it. Roland had to concede that Carter had remarkable taste. Without the knight’s extended lobbying and pleading, he would never have authorized the wedding gown—and looking at May in it now, he understood that the lobbying had been justified.

Carter, for his part, wore his black formal attire with a distinction that surprised even his friends. Standing together, the two of them looked like an illustration from a book about people who belonged to each other.

“They look wonderful together,” Anna said beside him.

Roland squeezed her hand. “We’ll have our day,” he said quietly. “And when we do, everyone will know you.”

She smiled, and said nothing, and the smile was enough.

Marrying a witch was easy. Earning the recognition of his subjects was not. That required absolute authority—the civil war ended, the kingdom unified, the throne secured. Only then could he marry Anna in a way that meant what he wanted it to mean: not as a lord’s private arrangement, but as a declaration. He would not have her compared to a nobleman’s kept mistress.

It would not be long now. The Months of Demons had ended; the town was readying itself for the spring campaign. Timothy’s throne would break before summer.

“The rings, please. Next—” The City Hall officer consulted his notebook, slightly uncertain. “—you may now kiss each other.”

The yard exploded.

Irene, standing with the rest of the Star Flower Troupe, grabbed the nearest person—Morning Light—and shook her, and then grabbed the next person, and called on everyone within reach to applaud and cheer. The noise built on itself.

“Just kissing,” Lightning said, wrinkling her nose. “My father gets kissed several times whenever he comes back from an expedition.”

“Coo—” Maggie, perched on Lightning’s head, carefully spread her wings across her face. The difficulty being that a pigeon’s eyes are set on the sides of its head.

“Your Highness—is this ceremony format really appropriate?” Scroll pressed a hand to her forehead.

“This is a special case,” Roland said, amused. “Not every wedding needs to follow this format. But this one is for publicity—the more memorable, the better.” He turned to Soraya. “You’re painting this. Every detail.”

“Already on it.” Soraya had not blinked since May entered. Her Magic Pen moved without pause.

At the center of the ceremony, Carter was visibly terrified. When his initial shock faded enough for him to be capable of movement, May stepped forward and kissed him herself.

The yard erupted again.

“His Highness—your blessing, please!”

Roland joined the newlyweds. He clapped Carter once on the shoulder. “Well done.” Then he turned to May. “May you be happy. Truly.”

“That—that’s it?” Carter blinked.

“That’s it. Now go home. Two days off.” Roland smiled. “Vader arrives this afternoon. Leave the rest to him.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” they said together, turning to each other with the same movement, as though they had already begun learning how to be the same thing.

The fireworks—rendered faithfully by Echo—closed the ceremony.


That afternoon, Barov and Karl came to the castle office to report on the Three Supplies Project.

“The water supply equipment is installed in all residential quarters,” Karl said, tracing the map with one finger. “More than half the heating pipes are laid. The power supply will take longer—the factory district will finish its installation soon under your direct guidance, but the four residential areas are still at the trenching stage. After your departure for Longsong Stronghold, that work nearly stalled.”

Roland nodded. There was nothing to be done about that; no one else could explain a circuit or walk a crew through electrical installation. Perhaps by April. Perhaps May. Then, at last, every house in the town would have light.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Now that the Months of Demons are over, heating can wait. The priorities are: power supply, and the construction of Kingdom Main Street. Power affects how efficiently we use every working hour; the Main Street ties the two cities together once the new city is established.” He paused. “After the Main Street construction crews are done, don’t dismiss them. We’ll need them to build the road down to the shoal.”

“The route toward the southern mountain area?”

“That’s the one. It will become the entrance to the sea.” When Tilly’s party returned to Sleeping Island, Lotus would come back to the Western Region. With Countess Spear’s help, a new path through the mountains would take months rather than years. “And once the City of Neverwinter is formally established, I want the construction workers enrolled as citizens. Confer citizenship as soon as the Main Street is complete.” He looked to Barov. “I’ll leave that to you.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Don’t reduce the pace of residential construction—push it outward, between here and the Stronghold, and onto the south bank of the Redwater River. I want the urban population to triple by year’s end.”

Barov breathed in sharply. “My lord—that would be close to one hundred thousand people.”

“The Western Region can support it,” Roland said. A city of twenty thousand inhabitants could sustain a suburban population of at least five times that; it was a well-established relationship, and with steam power reducing the labor required for basic supply, there was no ceiling he could see. “Take it as a goal.”

“And one more thing,” he continued, turning to the City Hall supervisor. “Electric light is already running in the factory district. Once the city construction is finished, I want the ammunition processing department—and the rest of the factories, eventually—operating in three eight-hour shifts, continuously. Calculate wages by the old daily rate. More hours, more pay. Begin promoting this now. I want those factories running without pause until we unify Graycastle.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Barov bowed.

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