I Stole The Duke - Chapter 20

“Waaah—!”

Thunderous cheers rang out endlessly. The entire Duchy of Ascher had been steeped in a festive atmosphere for the past month, but today was the true climax.

A carriage adorned with pearls and flowers moved slowly along a polished road. Crafted specially for the parade, it had no roof and featured delicate carvings of swans—a symbol of blessing for the union of the bride and groom.

Twenty knights of the Blue Order, clad in deep blue ceremonial uniforms, rode ahead on horseback, leading the procession. Behind them, one hundred knights of the White Order followed in perfect formation, dressed in crisp white attire.

Soldiers positioned at one-meter intervals along the route worked to keep the enthusiastic crowd in order as citizens flooded the streets to celebrate the grand occasion.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Warships anchored at sea fired crimson-tinged salutes in synchronized bursts, their echo rolling in with the sea breeze.

Even compared to royal weddings, this was a spectacular event. Though rather than the elegance of a parade, it held the solemnity and grandeur of a military review.

“Long live the Duke of Ascher!”

“Long live the Duchess of Ascher!”

The previous Duke had remarried six times, each ceremony modest and held in private. It had been fifty years since a wedding procession of this scale took place. The exuberant southern citizens cheered wildly, too excited to feel the strain in their throats.

“Long live the Duke of Ascher!”

“Long live the Duchess of Ascher!”

Whatever the former Duke’s bedroom affairs may have been, the Duchy of Ascher was a city beloved by its people.

The climate was warm year-round, jobs were abundant, and taxes were not burdensome.

The vast reparations received from the war thirty-one years ago had been invested into developing the city and expanding the military. That alone was enough to earn the unwavering devotion of the citizens to House Ascher.

“Long live the Duke of Ascher!”

“Long live the Duchess of Ascher!”

The shower of flower petals tossed by the excited crowd softened the rigid air of a military march, transforming it into a celebration. The long line of citizens stretched all the way to the Grand Temple of Neptune, god of the sea.

“I’m really glad I came all the way here.”

Freya stood at the temple entrance, watching the parade as it slowly climbed the hill. Her voice was filled with awe.

“Mhm. There’s no denying the might of House Ascher,” her elder brother replied.

“That’s exactly it, Brother.”

Freya was swept up in bliss, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of it all. It was far beyond what she had ever imagined.

In her past life, she had been the bride in a royal wedding. Yet this—this was something entirely different. A different kind of magnificence.

I want this.

She held back the rest of that dangerous thought, eyes still locked on the parade as it approached.

Such well-trained soldiers…

What caught her eye wasn’t Duke Ascher, whose presence was undeniable even from a distance, nor the veiled Duchess beside him. It was the knights—120 of them—marching in perfect synchronization beside the carriage, embodying discipline and strength.

It had been thirty-one years since the war. Peace had reigned for a long time.

And in that time, while the imperial knights grew dull with complacency, the southern knights—ever watchful on the front lines—had maintained the sharpness in their eyes. You could see it even now.

“Freya, let’s go inside and find our seats,” her brother urged gently.

“Alright.”

Freya gave the veiled bride a final glance, then allowed her second eldest brother to lead her into the temple.

If the streets were the space for the common folk’s celebration, the inside of the Grand Temple was the realm of the nobility.

“……”

As Michalis escorted Eliana toward the altar, a hush fell over the room that had been abuzz with whispers. It was the arrival of the couple who had captured the Empire’s attention more than any other in recent memory.

Moments later, soft music began to play.

When Michalis and Eliana stopped before the altar of Neptune, the high priest stepped forward to begin the rites.

“Do you swear before the gods to always love, honor, respect, and remain faithful to one another as husband and wife, no matter the circumstances?”

“I do.”

“Yes.”

“Then, please exchange your rings as a token of your sacred vow.”

At the priest’s cue, young acolytes stepped forward, carefully holding silver trays.

The rings, resting on delicate white lace, were lifted and placed gently onto each other’s fingers.

“Now, seal your vow with a kiss.”

Only then was the veil, which had covered the bride’s face throughout the ceremony, slowly lifted.

Their eyes met in complete silence.

Eliana could feel the words of the priest fading into a blur, like a mist slipping through her mind.

She gently closed her eyes.

Michalis’s lips brushed hers lightly—just a fleeting touch. It was a kiss so soft, so brief, it left no room for lingering thrill or fluttering hearts. But it was their first.

“Thus, before the god Neptune, I solemnly declare these two joined as husband and wife. May the divine grace be with them.”

After months of preparation, the ceremony itself was over in what felt like a blink.

By the time it ended, no one—not even those seated in the front rows—had seen the bride’s face clearly. No one but Duke Ascher. To the rest, she had simply appeared like a fragile figure wrapped in a flowing empire-line gown of pure white.

Night fell swiftly.

The city was ablaze with celebration. The streets were crowded with citizens enjoying the feast of wine and roasted meats provided by the Ascher estate. Both the inner and outer fortress glowed brightly, lit by luxurious enchanted lanterns.

The First Banquet Hall, a grand three-story building constructed from white limestone, boasted a main floor spacious enough to host over a thousand guests. The second floor held sectioned terraces for fresh air, and the third was prepared with ample lounges for guests to rest. Its scale rivaled that of the Imperial Palace itself.

“Oh my, Your Grace, you look absolutely breathtaking.”

“Mmm…”

Eliana had been receiving touch-ups for hours on the third floor of the banquet hall ever since returning to the ducal estate after the ceremony.

Because her makeup and hairstyle from the ceremony had been coordinated to match the ceremonial dress, everything had to be redone from the beginning to suit the reception gown.

“There’s no time left—we need to hurry!”

“My lady, could you open your eyes for a moment?”

From dawn until now, Eliana had been in preparation, starting with the morning dress-up, followed by the wedding ceremony, and now again—touch-ups for the evening.

“Open your eyes,” they would say whenever she began to nod off, only to follow it moments later with “Now close them.” Her body was tired, and her mind was a blur.

Knock, knock, knock.

Just as the makeup—painstakingly crafted by the atelier staff—was nearing completion, a knock sounded at the door.

“His Grace has arrived.”

It was the moment she’d been waiting for.

“I’ve come to escort the lady.”

Michalis entered the bridal waiting room as naturally as if he belonged there, but the moment his eyes met Eliana’s reflection in the mirror, his steps halted—and he froze in place.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His heart pounded wildly. He had always known she was beautiful—like a fairy—but in that moment, adorned in radiant makeup that shimmered with every angle of light and draped in a stunning gown, “fairy” wasn’t enough. She looked transcendent.

“You’re here?” Eliana stood up from her chair as the makeup artists stepped back in unison at his arrival.

“Y-yes…”

His thundering heart seemed to stop for a beat. She looked like a goddess.

“……”

As she faced him, Michalis extended his hand with practiced grace, offering his arm to escort her. Eliana, cheeks tinged with pink, gently placed her fingers upon it. She had always seen him in simple, unadorned clothing, but now—dressed to perfection—he looked every bit the prince from a fairytale.

“Shall we?”

“Yes.”

The moment Eliana’s delicate hand rested lightly on his arm, Michalis steadied his dizzying thoughts and took a breath. With a faint tension in his face, he began to walk.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

At the appointed time, fireworks launched from the battleships floating offshore. Through the glass windows, golden sparks burst into the night like dandelion seeds scattering in the wind.

The reception had begun.

Waaah—!

Cheers could be heard, faint but distinct, rising even from beyond the castle walls.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The bride and groom, today’s stars, stepped slowly down the grand staircase to the rhythm of the fireworks echoing in the distance.

“Oh my goodness…”

The brilliant bursts of light had drawn attention to the windows, but now all eyes turned toward the central staircase.

“My word…”

Gasps slipped from guests of all ages. The Duke’s face had already been made public through newspapers and seen earlier during the ceremony—there was nothing surprising there. But the long-rumored appearance of the Duchess? That drew every gaze.

She was radiant, bathed in light. Her elegantly styled silver hair shimmered softly beneath the chandelier’s glow, and the flowing blue gown—dyed from crushed southern coral—scattered starlight across the floor like a night sky filled with constellations.

As the couple reached the first floor, the crowd, as if under a spell, parted silently to clear the center of the hall.

Then, just as if on cue, the fireworks came to an abrupt end, replaced by a gentle melody that flowed through the room.

In the center of the hall, the Duke and Duchess bowed to one another—and began their waltz.

It was the first dance, signaling the formal beginning of the reception. A moment so symbolic, it had been rehearsed beforehand.

“Your Grace, um… Is my makeup smudged or anything?”

Eliana whispered nervously, her cheeks flushed bright red from the overwhelming number of eyes on her. She had anticipated it, but the attention was more intense than she had imagined.

“They’re staring because you’re beautiful.”

Michalis spoke with practiced calm, but his insides were boiling. The way the men in the crowd gawked at Eliana—with their jaws slack and eyes fixed—set his nerves on edge.

He wanted to cover her face again with the veil. To keep her hidden from every prying eye.

“Your Grace looks… incredible tonight, too.”

“……”

At her words, the tension bubbling inside him eased slightly.

Each time Eliana twirled in step with the music, a glimmering trail of light shimmered behind her, dazzling the eyes.

“Wow…”

Guests who had stepped back to make space for the dance couldn’t help but let out soft exclamations.

The gown was certainly stunning, but more than anything—it was the Duchess herself who stole every breath. Even in the imperial capital of Wespera, where beautiful women were never in short supply, there was something undeniably unique about her presence.

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