The morning of the imperial wedding began with a brilliant red sunrise, which painted the spires and domes of Erengrad, the beating heart of the Empire, in fiery hues.The air is thick with anticipation, filled with the clamor of bells tolling across the city and the distant roar of crowds. Streets had been scrubbed clean overnight, every archway draped with rich silks of scarlet and gold, the colors of House Erengrad, the ruling dynasty.
It's to be the grandest wedding in a century, a union meant to symbolize strength and unity, to bind the Emperor to his chosen Empress Consort. Yet beneath the pomp and splendor, there lay a bitter truth: Emperor Dietrich de Erengrad, the Empire's proud alpha sovereign, had not chosen his bride. For him, this day is nothing more than a mere obligation as an emperor.
