At noon, the parade procession appeared before the temple, with Hilvi holding a bouquet of pink and white flowers, sitting beside Prince Valenrian Veshi on the luxurious carriage platform.
Eight knights on horseback, paired two by two at the front, back, and sides, surrounded the carriage, followed by a neatly arranged company of marching soldiers and a band.
Soldiers clad in full armor maintained order along the road, while the onlookers lining the street waved at the newlyweds from behind them, shouting out their blessings.
That beautiful bride hailed from Moravia, rising from the slums by her own ability to become the Crown Princess, and perhaps, in the future, even the Queen.
This “fairy tale” itself inspired envy and longing, not to mention that if this young lady named “Hilvi” truly became part of the royal family, everyone in this city might enjoy some measure of privilege in days to come.
Everyone who had come more or less harbored such hopes.
Enemy nation? They had never received the grace of the Green Empire.
Under the rule of that inept Marquess, the commoners had led exceedingly difficult lives.
The people believed that a change in leadership might bring about some transformation, little knowing that the invaders simply hadn’t bared their fangs yet.
Prince Valenrian Veshi wore the smile of a leader as he waved to the citizens gathered along the street.
“Hilvi, you should wave back as well. After all, they’re here to bless our wedding.”
“Yes, Your Highness Valenrian.”
Most of the crowd’s attention was on the bride herself, whose beauty was no less than that of a fairy tale heroine. Everyone on the street was entranced by her.
Hilvi held the bouquet in one hand, smiling as she waved in unison with the prince.
“Whoa, whoa, she just waved at me!”
“A ‘Prince’ and a ‘Princess’—so fairy tales aren’t just lies after all!”
“She looks like a Goddess. If I become a great noble, could I marry a girl as beautiful as her?”
……
The crowd’s cheers satisfied Valenrian. What he enjoyed most was being the “Protagonist” on the stage, admired by all.
It seemed that woman named “Bu’er” had done well with her potion. Even if Hilvi became only a concubine, she would have no complaints now.
Perhaps he could devise many more “new entertainments”…
“My dear, your beauty is dazzling. Your every gesture stirs my heart. Just thinking that you will soon be mine fills me with anticipation.”
Hilvi shivered, but quickly composed herself, turning back to smile and reply, “Yes, Your Highness, I look forward to it as well.”
The carriage rolled on slowly. At the edge of their sight, the white great hall was already visible, just after passing the final intersection before their destination.
There were fewer commoners on the street now. Those waiting here were the close nobles who would soon witness the Wedding Oath Ceremony.
Valenrian glanced at the assembled crowd ahead. His sister was not among them.
He had no idea what she was thinking. Even now, she stubbornly lingered in the city but would not come to celebrate her good brother’s wedding.
Ever since the king had approved his engagement with Hilvi, she had no hope left in the Merchant Guild Struggle.
It was a pity he couldn’t savor Eveleel’s regretful expression, but he could understand—after all, he wouldn’t want others to see him defeated and full of remorse, either.
No, how could he possibly lose? He was the “Protagonist” of this world.
Conquering the Green Empire was only the first step. Next, he would subdue the Rhine Empire, the Dwarf King Dosalsuo Dungeon, and Yggdrasil…
“Long live the Vichy Royal Family! Long live Valenrian Veshi!”
A knight at the front cried out loudly.
Unknowingly, the moment had come.
According to the script, once the knight shouted the slogan, the surrounding soldiers and crowd would be roused, echoing the cry and pushing the parade to its climax.
Valenrian basked in his own glory. But strangely, the surrounding soldiers, weapons in hand, stood motionless. What were these fools doing?
“Puppet Slugs, attack the ones in front of you!”
From somewhere in the crowd, a clear, sweet female voice rang out across the district.
Who? What’s going on? Attack?
This unexpected and mysterious call bewildered everyone. But what happened next plunged all into chaos.
The “soldiers” originally keeping order drew their weapons and charged the parade of the prince and his “fiancée.”
“Ambush! We’re under attack!”
The wedding carriage was immediately surrounded by the knights and soldiers following behind, who now raised their own weapons to fight the “soldiers” who were supposed to maintain order.
“What are you doing! You lot—rebelling?”
“Stop! All of you, stop!”
The blond man atop the carriage platform shouted in anger.
The wedding guests scattered in panic, fleeing in all directions.
Soon, all that remained were scattered petals and colored confetti—and a single small figure in a black cloak.
“Pierce them, Magma Javelin.”
At the incantation, a dozen flaming orange-red spears materialized around her.
A fourth-tier fire spell, expertly cast, rained down on the guards protecting the wedding carriage.
It wasn’t that these soldiers were weak, but that the Moving Armor was simply too strong.
“These things—what are they?”
“Ah, stay away from me!”
“Damn it, form up! Don’t take them on alone!”
……
Ordinary swords and blades could barely scratch the Rare Treasure Chest – Fine Steel Plate Armor Set.
Attack the joints? Those apparent weak spots were covered in a strange silk fabric; even fine steel longswords could do no harm.
With them around, no one could spare a hand to deal with the “assassin mage.”
Her mastery of Magic Manipulation only further tipped the advantage to these “fearless armors.”
“Hold them back! The Deputy Captain of the Guard has gone for reinforcements. Don’t let them near His Highness the Prince!”
“Ah—”
Prince Valenrian Veshi clung to the carriage seat, hands over his head. Just now, a flaming spear had nearly grazed his scalp.
His former composure and confidence vanished. For the first time, he felt the presence of “death” this close.
Though he often appeared at the front lines in the southern war, it was only for show. As soon as things looked grim, he had run back.
“Risking one’s life” was not something a “Protagonist” like him should do.
“Damn it! Don’t let her through!”
“Ah! My hand!”
“You—you monster, I’ll take you down with me!”
……
Screams rang out from below the carriage. The black-cloaked figure leapt nimbly up from the ground.
“You?”
He remembered the petite frame and golden hair beneath the cloak—it was his sister’s “pet”!
Even though half her face was covered, he could never mistake those ruby-like eyes.
“You—ugh…”
His stomach took a heavy kick. She yanked him from the seat, then stomped down hard on his face.
The sword at his throat made him swallow the curses he’d meant to scream.
“Let go of His Highness.”
The Guard Captain, arriving late, stopped below the carriage.
The opponent was a terrible match—if only he could use water magic, casualties might be lessened.
Unfortunately, he too was a fire mage. He couldn’t wield a sword and cast spells at the same time. The enemy was likely not even human.
“Listen well. If you kill His Highness Valenrian, the Vichy Royal Family will never let you go. The Secret Mark will follow you for life—their revenge will never end!”
The man below the carriage threatened fiercely. This dereliction was already a grave crime—should anything happen to the prince in his care, his entire family might be doomed.
The “assassin” glanced at the prince at her feet, then, with surprising strength for her size, kicked him toward the Guard Captain, before turning to lift Hilvi in her arms.
“Your ‘fiancée’ is mine now. Enjoy your wedding—alone, you useless fool!”
With these words, a wall of fire sprang up around the carriage platform.
The crimson flames lasted only a few minutes before vanishing—along with the petite black figure and the stunning, dreamlike “bride”…