“Hey, Blois... Who exactly should I invite, and how many?”
“What’s this all of a sudden? Just invite the students you personally trained.”
“That was my first thought, but...the more I think about it, the more it seems I ought to invite all the sword instructors as well.”
“You say that so easily, but most of the instructors are elderly men who used to hold high positions. Calling on people like that without even knowing them isn’t exactly polite, you know.”
“I see... Then perhaps I should go around and greet them myself before the wedding—something like an introductory visit in my new post?”
“When do you plan to hold this wedding, exactly? We’re practically married already, and we even have Fanne! I know it’s only ceremonial, but still! I want to have the ceremony soon! I’ve been waiting two years—ever since you went to Magyan!”
“Uh...”
“Unlike you, I’m not immortal! I’m not so selfish as to complain about how long it’s taken, but honestly, it’s time to start the countdown!”
“Y-Yeah...you’re right.”
Overwhelmed by Blois’s intensity, Sansui fell silent. She was right—planning a wedding and then delaying it for months just to arrange the details would be ridiculous.
“This isn’t what you two should be talking about right now!” Their daughter scolded them sharply.
At that moment, the three of them were supposed to be discussing Blois’s bridal gown.
As nobles, they couldn’t simply “put on a nice dress and call it a wedding.” The gown had to be made from scratch, tailored specifically for Blois. That day, they had called in the Wynne family’s personal tailor to decide on the design.
“There are lots of choices! Focus!”
“R-Right... Sansui started talking nonsense and got me all worked up.”
“Sorry.”
“Papa, you should act like you did when you got that treasure from Magyan! You were so cool then!”
Lain had burned that image into her memory—the moment her father had stood proudly before everyone, calm and dignified.
“I-I’ll do my best...”
“Yes, me too...”
Once you pull something off successfully even once, everyone expects you to do it again. Both of them wanted to live up to their daughter’s expectations, but neither was confident they could.
“Um, if you two are ready, shall we begin?”
“Oh—yes, sorry!”
“Then please, take a look through these. I hope something here suits your taste.”
The tailor opened a thick catalog of bridal gowns. They had looked at such catalogs before, but seeing it now—with her own wedding in mind—made Blois’s heart race. She flipped through the pages excitedly. Since several outfit changes were planned, choosing would take some time.
“Mama Blois, look! This one’s beautiful!”
“Y-Yeah... It really is...”
Lain leaned in, fascinated. Watching them, Sansui smiled softly, then remembered something else he wanted to ask.
“Actually, aside from the main gown, I’d like to request a Magyan-style bridal outfit as well. I’ve brought sketches. It doesn’t have to be perfect—just as close as you can manage.”
“The Magyan Kingdom... That’s the distant nation that recently opened relations with us, isn’t it? Hmm...”
The tailor looked intrigued as he studied the sketches. The unfamiliar culture seemed to have stirred his professional curiosity. Sansui felt relieved. If the man had balked at foreign designs, they would have had to find someone else.
“I also brought the cloth. If possible, I’d like the outfit made from this fabric.”
Sansui handed over the bolt of cloth, a gift from the king of Magyan himself. Even to an untrained eye, it was exquisite. But the tailor’s reaction was anything but calm.
“Wh-What... What is this fabric?!”
“It was a gift from the king of Magyan.”
“The king of Magyan? They have such material there? In all my years as a craftsman, I’ve never seen—never even heard—of anything like this!”
The fabric’s quality was so extraordinary that the man physically stepped back in shock.
It was understandable—something from a foreign royal treasury could hardly be ordinary.
“Surely my humble skills are not worthy of cutting such cloth!”
“Ah...I see.”
“Please forgive me! My hands would defile it!”
It seemed it was like holding a massive uncut gemstone and being asked to make the first strike. His hands trembled not from incompetence, but from reverence.
“Please... Entrust this fabric to someone truly worthy.”
“Very well.”
Sansui accepted the fabric again, at a loss for words. He could hardly argue with that kind of sincerity.
After returning the cloth, the tailor took his catalog and left, refusing the commission entirely. He said, “I could never produce a gown fit to stand beside such material.”
It was understandable—but inconvenient. They hadn’t been asking for something miraculous, only something wearable. Now things had become complicated. No artisan in the Wynne territory was more skilled than their own official tailor. That left only one option.
Sansui carefully repacked the cloth and hurried to the Sepaeda estate to seek advice from Douve Sepaeda and her husband, Magyan Tahlan.
“My lord, my lady—no one in the Wynne domain is capable of working with this fabric. I humbly ask for your guidance.”
Technically, they could simply choose not to use the cloth. But Blois was looking forward to it, and Sansui himself didn’t want to let such a treasure sit unused.
“I see,” Tahlan said, smiling despite the trouble. His expression wasn’t bothered—it was delighted.
“My, Tahlan, you seem awfully pleased,” Douve said. “Is it so amusing that dear Blois has nothing to wear?”
“Ha ha, not at all. I’m only happy that my homeland, the Magyan Kingdom, isn’t inferior to Arcana in every respect.”
Douve’s teasing expression softened into a fond smile. “Oh, you’re right. Your father would be proud to hear that.”
“If only our envoy hadn’t already departed... The craftspeople back home would have been overjoyed to know how their work was received.”
The couple exchanged pleased glances, utterly content. Meanwhile, Sansui—still kneeling—could only wait for them to finish their affectionate chatter. After a moment, Tahlan sobered.
“Still, it won’t do to leave you in difficulty. My father would wish the bride to shine in the cloth he sent...but calling in our own craftsmen from Magyan would be impractical.”
“Indeed,” said Douve. “It would make Arcana look as though we can do nothing but fight. We can’t have that. So...”
A spark lit in her eyes.
“We’ll hold an open call for tailors across Sepaeda. The best artisan will be chosen to craft Blois’s gown.”
Sansui bowed deeply. “That would be an honor. Blois and Lain will be thrilled.”
“It’s only proper. To take a royal gift and handle it carelessly would be an insult to His Majesty. As nobles, we must answer such trust with our best.”
Douve could be proud, but her sense of duty was impeccable—and in moments like this, she was entirely reliable.
“Oh, and...let’s make a bit of a show of it, shall we?”
“A show?”
“Of course. This will be the first bridal gown in Arcana ever made from Magyan cloth. In the fashion world, that’s historic. We might as well make it memorable.”
Now Sansui understood her excitement. Such a dress would probably be preserved, perhaps even displayed someday.
“We won’t open it to artisans all over the kingdom—just from the city here. A modest competition, nothing more.”
“In that case, I shall bring Blois along. She should have a say in the design.”
“Yes. Go back and fetch her while we make the arrangements.”
It was turning into a grand affair, but if it made Blois and Lain happy, Sansui didn’t mind. He bowed once more. “Then, I leave it in your hands.”
When Sansui returned home and explained everything, Blois and Lain reacted in opposite ways.
“That’s...way too extravagant...” Blois blushed furiously.
“That’s amazing! It’s going to be the prettiest dress ever!” Lain clapped her hands.
Still, both of them shared the same feeling—a swelling excitement for the gown that was yet to come. Soon after, the Shirokuro family set out together for Sepaeda to reconvene with Douve and Tahlan.
“I knew we’d be paying our respects sooner or later,” Sansui mused, “but I didn’t expect it to be quite like this.”
“Fanne’s coming too! I bet they’ll be so happy to see her!”
“Yeah, they will.”
The carriage rocked gently as it carried them toward the city. They were all content—no problems on the horizon, only a bright future ahead. They laughed, relaxed, and believed nothing could go wrong. But that belief was merely the limit of their imagination.
The first to sense that something had indeed gone wrong was, of course, Sansui.
“Hmm?”
His refined senses as an Immortal picked up a disturbance.
“What is it, Sansui? You look pale.”
“Papa?”
Sansui’s expression grew troubled. Blois and Lain immediately knew something was off.
“We’re getting close to Douve and Tahlan’s castle. I can already feel the town’s presence...but the energy there—it’s far greater than before.”
Had it been a sign of war, Sansui would already have leaped from the carriage to restore order, but this was something else. Chaotic, yes, but not dangerous.
“Maybe there’s a festival?”
“Not that I know of,” Blois said. “Though, in Sepaeda, festivals do tend to appear out of nowhere.”
“No... This is different. The excitement—it’s almost madness.”
As the carriage drew nearer, even Blois and Lain began to feel it. The air was thick with heat, with voices, with life.
“This is incredible,” Blois murmured.
“Yeah... What could be happening?”
Sepaeda’s capital was a great city, second only to the royal one. The three of them knew its every street and season, yet never had they felt such feverish energy.
They couldn’t imagine the cause—never once suspecting that they themselves were the reason for all the uproar.