The grand feast hosted by Duke Ashbourne the next day was not merely a celebration; it was a deliberate, powerful statement issued to the entire Empire. The Duke had orchestrated every detail, from the towering floral arrangements to the precise seating chart, ensuring the event would be etched into memory as a magnificent celebration and a declaration of his son's newly elevated status.
Nobles from across the Western Territories—powerful, rugged trading magnates, seasoned military commanders whose loyalty was measured in centuries, and influential landowners—had gathered at House Ashbourne. The ancestral hall glittered, bathed in the warmth of a thousand candles reflected in polished crystal and heavy silver. Yet, the true spectacle was the Duke's transformation. The characteristic aloofness and worried tension that often clung to him were gone; he stood as the proudest, most confident man in the realm.
When Vaelorian and Riven finally made their entrance, the effect was immediate and stunning. They walked side-by-side, Riven now conspicuously wearing the rich, deep Ashbourne emerald and gold layered with the stark silver and purple of his Imperial silks—a visual blend of his two powerful loyalties. The applause that erupted was deafening, a visceral roar that shook the rafters, signifying the absolute, unified support of the Western Lords for this match.
During the customary toasts, the Duke's address was the undeniable centerpiece. He spoke, not with the dry formality expected of a political figure, but with booming, genuine emotion. Notably, he didn't dwell on Vaelorian's title or the Crown's benefit; his entire focus was fixed on Riven's worth.
"To my son, Riven!" the Duke declared, raising his heavy silver goblet high, his voice cutting through the celebratory noise. "You all know the strength of House Ashbourne lies in three things: its truth, its honor, and its formidable resolve. Riven," he paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, "embodies every single part of that Ashbourne strength."
He proceeded to recount Riven's achievements not as dry political bullet points, but as a father reciting his son's personal triumphs—the impossible training he overcame, the battles he excelled in, the honor he earned.
"Riven is not the only one profiting from this union; let that be clear!" the Duke thundered, his eyes fixed pointedly on every important guest, daring anyone to disagree. "The Crown Prince is also gaining a strong, peerless Knight by marrying Riven! He is gaining our best! Let the whole Empire know this day: Duke Ashbourne doesn't play about his son." He slammed his goblet onto the table, the sharp clang silencing every whisper. "This union will be blessed, prosperous, and permanent. And let there be no mistake: Any threat to this union is henceforth a direct threat to the entire West!"
The declaration was potent, leveraging the Duke's massive regional power to instantly and publicly legitimize the union, issuing a thunderous warning to any remaining political rivals in the capital who might have intended to destabilize the match.
The feast itself was legendary—roast game, delicate sweets, and the finest vintage wine flowed freely, bathing the atmosphere in thick, celebratory cheer. The Western Lords spent the remainder of the evening queuing up to shower Riven with sincere praise and Vaelorian with unwavering assurances of their loyalty to the Crown through this marriage.
Later, Riven managed to slip away with Vaelorian, finding a moment of quiet on a shadowed balcony overlooking the vast, dark expanse of the ancestral estate.
"He's truly amazing," Riven murmured, still processing the shockwave of his father's powerful public defense. "He didn't just host a party. He silenced every doubt and secured the unquestionable loyalty of the Western Lords for us with a single toast."
Vaelorian pulled him close, wrapping a steady arm around his waist and looking out at the ancestral lands stretching into the darkness. "He did more than that, my love. He gave you the pride and validation you needed to fully own your role. With his public statement, no one—not even the most powerful Duke will dare doubt his full and unconditional support for our union."
"I feel it," Riven confessed, leaning back into the Prince's familiar, solid warmth, the relief flooding him. "I feel like I can do anything at this point. That this is real."
Vaelorian turned Riven to face him, his eyes alight with promise and purpose in the dim light. "You can. And you will. I'll be with you every step of the way as we build the future this Empire needs."
He kissed Riven then, a long, deep, and unhurried kiss that felt like a seal on the powerful vow he'd just made. They had left the capital seeking a simple political alliance. They were now leaving with far more: the sincere support of family, the deep loyalty of powerful new friends, and an unshakeable confidence in their shared future.
They were so ready for their next tour.