The Royal wedding had set the Kingdom of Vornair ablaze with fortune, as merchants from across the known worlds set out for Penrith; the finest silk and fabrics, gems and jewels, and prestigious quills all marched for fortune. Thousands horded into the capital of an empire, wanting to compete to make their own legacy, fighting for the crumbs of coins that fell from the pockets of Aristocrats and Nobles.
The Rhyne Estate nestled in grandiose splendor, shimmered with the lights of hundreds of lanterns setting the estate alight for all to witness – a beacon of prosperity. Droves of carriages decorated in the finest ware and house shields entered through the gates of the estate. Their occupants clinging to reassurances and self-entitlement for the hope of elevation, redemption and expansion. The wedding simply another engagement on their scheduled agendas.
Although, a magnificent feast for the eyes, the wedding concluded mostly without incident. All in attendance portrayed their roles accordingly. Duke Mythos sampled and silenced the local brothels – trust too is a facile mistress; drinking wine from a never-empty goblet Duchess Aleeryan critiqued the attire of all who attended the wedding; Consort Duchess Rheika was found sleeping in a pile of gold coins from the King’s treasury; Duke Balen escaped the wedding instead accidentally burning down a local tavern when the owner questioned the courage of the Duke’s armies; and Duke Kellix gleefully enacted naval maneuvers in the fountain with toy ships which were proudly labeled Helgrim made. While, Duchess Cynn over-watched them always learning from and about her current friends.
Amidst the goings-on of the wedding, King Adam Rhyne and Duke Morbis Alabast-Rhyne hand-in-hand resigned to the seclusion of a chateau amongst the snow capped peaked alps of Penrith. Illuminated by candlelight, shimmering off of nearby bottles of mead and wine, the room danced in an array of colors. Approaching the bed, there an innocent parchment lay waiting to change their lives that night. Anxious Morbis drew his quill, inking and preparing it for the long night it would have to endure. Unequivocal Adam thrust out his quill and signed the child contract, full of assurance the ink settled gracefully onto the page. Nervous Morbis let slip the quill, exploding on contact ink leapt from the contract splattering across the bed, and onto Adam. The Royal Quill and Scepter Holder, Consort Edwin Salle hidden, quietly watching in the shadowed corner stood at the ready with a spare quill in hand. Mustering the tenacity to try again, Adam gently caressed Morbis’ hand. “Don’t be nervous, let me guide you…” Slowly inching closer to the contract Adam softly whispered into Morbis’ ear “Right there, yeah. That’s the spot.” In shear bliss Morbis etched his signature onto the mark for as long as possible before exhaustion overcame, smearing ink all over the contract. In jubilation the royal couple spooned in bed, dreaming of tomorrow and the promises of a new future.