Jax was up before dawn.
For the first time in months, Llandra slept longer than he did.
The last twenty-four hours had been overwhelming.
The Veil's arrival.
The confrontation.
The call home.
The declaration of marriage.
And then—
The passion.
Emotions had run high. Bodies had followed. By the time the house finally quieted, Llandra had reached the limits of both her heart and her stamina.
So Jax let her rest.
He had already arranged for one of his trusted restaurant cooks to prepare breakfast at the Complex. Paid privately. Discreetly. Generously.
He kissed Llandra's forehead before leaving.
Then he went to work.
The Dowry Begins
First stop: Brannic and Merriweather.
They were in the forge when he arrived.
"What do you need?" Brannic asked immediately.
No hesitation. No suspicion.
Jax explained.
Both went silent.
Then Brannic grinned slowly.
"You're marrying a princess."
"I am."
Merriweather clapped her hands together. "Oh, we are making something magnificent and for the King of Etherevalis"
They immediately set aside their current commissions.
Full-time.
This wasn't just business.
This was loyalty.
They owed him their lives.
Anything for him.
Quiet Preparations
From there, Jax moved across Solmere.
He checked on infrastructure.
Spoke with merchants.
Verified supply chains.
Adjusted schedules.
To most, he simply said he would be traveling for a time.
To a select few — Brannic, Merriweather, Grathok — he was more transparent.
Grathok nearly dropped a cleaver when he heard the news.
"You're what?"
"Getting married."
"To who?"
Jax smiled.
"Llandra"
Grathok stared at him for a full three seconds.
"Which one is she?"
"The elf."
Then turned toward the cold storage.
"I'm setting aside the finest cuts we have."
Throughout the week, the most expensive meats were quietly reserved.
Premium stock.
Perfect condition.
Jax was assembling a dowry worthy of a throne.
The Dresses
The finest dress shop in Solmere received a visit next.
The seamstresses nearly fainted when they learned why.
"I want the best you can produce," Jax told them. "Designed to Llandra's preferences. And the others as well."
Overtime was approved.
Costs were irrelevant.
He trusted his people.
He would not leave something so important to unknown tailors in a foreign capital.
His own tailor received similar instructions.
A formal set worthy of court.
Regal.
Understated.
Commanding.
Jax Darquebane would not walk into Etherevalis unprepared.
The Impossible Upgrade
He even stopped to meet Barb.
"Can you expand the carriage?" Jax asked.
"Expand it how?"
"Dimensional fold. Interior larger than exterior. Private chambers."
Barb blinked.
"That's not how teleport crystals work."
Jax sighed.
Worth asking.
Apparently, the Veil would have to endure the realities of travel alongside four deeply affectionate fiancées.
Unfortunate.
And Then… The Whispering Began
Despite his attempts at discretion, news moved faster than shadow beasts.
By midday—
Solmere knew.
By evening—
The gates knew.
By the next morning—
Half the United Kingdoms knew.
Jax Darquebane was traveling to Etherevalis.
To marry a princess.
Some connected the dots immediately.
"Llandra?"
"She's the King's daughter?"
"That explains so much…"
Others hadn't realized.
"She lived here for two years?!"
"She shops at my store!"
"She argued with me about fabric prices!"
Speculation exploded.
"She's so beautiful — of course she's royalty."
"I wish I were a princess. Then Jax would choose me."
"He's engaged to others who aren't princesses."
"So there's still hope?"
Across town, the Slave Guild reacted differently.
"This is strategic," one of their agents muttered.
"He's aligning with the second largest kingdom on the continent."
"If he secures Etherevalis, we lose this entire region."
"If the Elves join the United Kingdoms…"
Silence followed.
That alliance would shift the balance of power permanently.
The Chronicle Strikes Again
Two days later, the U.K. Chronicle printed a special edition.
Front page.
Large headline.
"Princess of Etherevalis to Wed Founder of the United Kingdoms."
Jax nearly choked when he saw it.
He had promised not to interfere.
He regretted that promise slightly.
The article was enthusiastic. Detailed. Gloriously dramatic.
It reminded readers:
When he disliked poor food, he purchased restaurants and transformed them.
When Jax disliked slavery, he bought every slave in town and freed them.
When he opposed the Empire, he defeated an army and declared independence.
And within weeks, sixteen cities joined him.
"Jax Darquebane does nothing halfway," the editorial read.
"So why would his wedding be any different?"
The tabloid section was even worse.
What will she wear?
Will humans and elves blend traditions?
Has a human ever married elven royalty before?
Will he survive the King's evaluation?
How extravagant will the dowry be?
The paper sold out instantly.
Again.
A City in Celebration
Solmere began to shift.
Markets decorated early.
Vendors designed "Princess Specials."
Tailors advertised "Etherevalis-inspired gowns."
Bakers experimented with elven dessert styles.
Musicians composed wedding ballads.
Each evening felt like a festival.
Each morning felt like anticipation.
It was the first true celebrity wedding the United Kingdoms had ever known.
And everyone was watching.
Not just for romance.
For politics.
For symbolism.
For power.
Because this wasn't just a wedding.
It was a merging of kingdoms.
And in the center of it all—
Jax Darquebane moved quietly.
Preparing.
Calculating.
Building something far greater than a ceremony.
The next two weeks would determine far more than a marriage.
They would determine the future of the continent.