Chapter 210

“Ahem. On this day, as bountiful autumn deepens and the harvest ripens, I sincerely congratulate the groom, Julian, and the bride, Scheherazade, on their marriage. I also extend my congratulations to both sets of parents who raised and guided them with such care, making this day possible.”

Count Ventura, the congratulatory envoy dispatched by the Magentano Royal Family and today’s officiant, spoke in a solemn voice.

Calm, yet authoritative—exactly what you’d expect from a seasoned diplomat.

His declaration brought silence to the garden, and the gathered guests turned their attention to the two at the center of it all.

The groom, Julian.

The bride, Scheherazade.

They stood before the officiant, hands clasped tightly.

Watching them, Lloyd’s smile grew warm.

‘Wow. This is actually happening.’

He suddenly recalled what happened about two months ago.

The day after he’d played Cupid between Julian and Scheherazade.

The mansion at the Frontera Estate had erupted in the middle of the night.

Scheherazade had gone to the Count and Countess’s bedroom past midnight, dropped to her knees, and delivered a bombshell.

‘Please give me your second son, Count Frontera.’

Even now, just thinking about it made him chuckle.

They’d only started flirting the day before.

Scheherazade hadn’t even understood her own feelings yet.

He’d personally pushed her into recognizing them.

‘Who would’ve thought she’d pull something like that after one day.’

Even he hadn’t expected it.

It was the kind of impulsive insanity you’d only see in a Korean morning drama.

And the blast radius was just as ridiculous.

The entire Frontera Estate was turned upside down.

The Count had been so shocked he collapsed in the hallway, still in his pajamas.

The Countess could only stand there, hand over her mouth, speechless.

Then the guards on indoor patrol found the scene and shouted in alarm.

“Count, what’s wrong?”

Only after that did they notice Scheherazade.

‘And even then, she was still kneeling, staring up at the Count with a determined look.’

As if she’d planned to turn into a statue right there if they refused.

The commotion woke every servant in the mansion.

Lloyd, too.

No—he got summoned the moment he woke up.

Before he could even wipe the sleep from his eyes, he was dragged into a family meeting.

And in the Count’s study, he heard the second bombshell.

‘I feel the same way as Lady Scheherazade.’

Julian’s declaration.

Those two weren’t just bold—they were bulldozers.

Two straight, consecutive detonations.

And the Count’s reaction was unexpected.

He didn’t panic.

He didn’t flail.

He simply sat there, thinking quietly, then looked at Julian and Scheherazade in turn and asked, serious and steady, whether they meant it.

‘Of course, the two nodded. That was it.’

The Count only said that he understood.

No unnecessary questions.

Instead, he calmly picked up a pen, wrote two letters with a firm hand, and sent them to two places.

One to the Royal Palace in the royal capital, Magentano.

The other to Ahinsa, capital of the eastern Sultanate.

In other words, once he confirmed their sincerity, he immediately informed both royal families of their intention to marry.

No hesitation. No interrogation.

He simply chose to believe them—and, in doing so, accepted the heavy responsibility of seeking approval, negotiating, and mediating between both sides.

And thanks to that decision, everything after moved smoothly.

‘The Magentano Royal Family and the Sultan had no reason to oppose it.’

The reactions were exactly as Lloyd expected.

A peaceful agreement had just been reached, and both royal families welcomed the marriage.

They even pushed it as a symbol of harmony between the two nations.

The second son of the Frontera Family, a victim of the Monster Domino Effect.

The daughter of the Sultan, tied to responsibility for that same incident.

Their union was too perfect to reject.

‘Besides, the Sultan was originally hell-bent on making me his son-in-law. He’ll be disappointed he couldn’t grab me right away, but he’ll take Julian as the next best thing.’

Now the Sultan was connected to the Frontera Family.

And he’d surely use that connection as a stepping stone to aim for Lloyd later.

Of course, Lloyd had no intention of letting that happen.

‘Anyway.’

Lloyd snapped back to the present.

Under bright autumn sunlight, the ceremony—like most weddings—was racing toward its conclusion compared to the endless preparations that came before.

“…Therefore, before these many guests, the two have firmly vowed to become a couple who will share life’s joys and sorrows together. Thus, the officiant solemnly declares that this marriage has been successfully concluded.”

Bang! Pop!

The declaration ended, and fireworks burst across the sky.

Colored petals and confetti fluttered down.

The new bride, Scheherazade, threw the bouquet.

And it flew with the force of an upper-level Sword Expert.

No guest dared step forward. They could only swallow hard and watch it streak overhead.

The bouquet sailed out of the wedding hall, flew hundreds of meters, and only lost its momentum when it reached a workshop—dropping as if by chance.

Thud.

“…Huh?”

Solitas, the Red Dragon, who was hunched in a corner, absorbed in carving gravel, twitched his brows.

He’d been fully focused when a bouquet landed squarely on his workbench.

As if someone had deliberately delivered it.

“What’s this?”

Wasn’t the wedding supposed to be today?

Then this—

Is this the bouquet he’d only ever heard about?

Solitas’s brows twitched again.

‘I heard that if you catch a bride’s bouquet, you’ll get married soon. Tsk. Humans cling to the weirdest superstitions. Did they think I’d be happy if they gave me this?’

If so, the answer was yes.

Solitas quietly slid the bouquet under the workbench.

A secret, warm smile tugged at the young dragon’s lips.

Meanwhile, the wedding concluded without a hitch.

Julian and Scheherazade climbed into the carriage, faces flushed.

The Count and Countess teared up at the sight.

Far away, the Sultan—unable to attend—watched his daughter through a magic mirror provided by the congratulatory envoy, drowning in emotion.

Scheherazade was his most cherished daughter.

But outwardly, he’d always treated her coldly.

He couldn’t show affection carelessly.

If he did, she’d become the target of intense scrutiny and jealousy from dozens of siblings.

And jealousy could turn into something worse.

She could get dragged into power struggles and suffer an “accident.”

That was why the Sultan deliberately buried his feelings as a father.

Someday, when Scheherazade became a Swordmaster—

When she had the strength to withstand her siblings’ envy and schemes.

When she could protect herself without him needing to worry.

Only then would he keep her by his side and reveal his heart.

That was the vow of the ruler.

No—of the father who existed before the ruler.

“…Hehehe.”

Deep within his distant palace, the Sultan smiled alone, satisfied.

Applause filled the garden at the Frontera Estate.

And with everyone’s blessings, the newlyweds, Julian and Scheherazade, departed for their honeymoon.

♣

“Hooah.”

When it was over, Lloyd finally released the breath he’d been holding.

‘I did it.’

Julian and Scheherazade were now an official couple.

Recognized and celebrated by both the Magentano Royal Family and the Sultanate.

Everything had gone exactly as he’d planned.

‘You rascal.’

The honeymoon carriage was already rolling away.

A warm smile came naturally as he pictured Julian inside.

Was it because Julian had become a useful piece in Lloyd’s grand design?

Not only that.

‘I just… feel good.’

Julian should’ve died long ago.

In the novel Lloyd read, Iron Blooded Knight, that was the original outcome.

‘The Frontera Family fell, his tuition was cut off, and he was kicked out of the academy.’

Then, wandering the back alleys of the royal capital looking for a place to sleep, Julian was killed by some nameless robber.

That was the original story.

But it changed.

Julian didn’t die.

He graduated with honors.

He found his own path—and now he was someone’s husband.

Leaving on his honeymoon, happy.

A complete reversal from the miserable, pointless end he’d originally had.

‘All thanks to this older brother, you rascal.’

Scheherazade, too, was the same.

If it weren’t for Lloyd—

If he hadn’t built the Qanat in Kandara—

She would’ve been swept up in the rebellion and killed before her talent ever bloomed.

But that changed as well.

Not only did she survive, she left today as a happy bride.

And she even recorded a lullaby from Lloyd last night.

‘Now that she’s my sister-in-law, ahem.’

So when you come back, be good to me.

And become my excellent pawns going forward.

Lloyd watched the carriage disappear, letting himself enjoy the warmth for just a moment.

Then he put it away.

Now wasn’t the time for sentiment.

It was time to check how solid the foundation of his new picture really was.

With that thought, Lloyd turned and walked.

He moved through the guests spilling out of the garden and approached Count Ventura, today’s officiant and the congratulatory envoy dispatched by the Magentano Royal Family.

“Thank you for your hard work today, Count.”

“Oh? Is that not Frontera’s son?”

“Yes. I was too busy before the ceremony to properly greet you. Have you been well?”

“Of course. And you?”

“I’ve been well, thanks to you.”

“Hehe. Flattery.”

Count Ventura’s smile toward him was warm—like he was looking at a honey-coated lucky charm.

It couldn’t be helped.

When they went to the Sultanate together, this was the Count who’d successfully led negotiations thanks to Lloyd, and then received a great reward from Her Majesty the Queen afterward.

But that wasn’t the point today.

Lloyd asked, smiling subtly.

“But Count, do you perhaps have something to tell me?”

“What?”

“You probably do.”

“…Hehe.”

A chuckle slipped into the Count’s smile, along with a look that said, What kind of man is this?

“You already noticed?”

“More or less.”

Lloyd shrugged.

He’d expected it.

The real reaction Her Majesty the Queen would have to this marriage—

Count Ventura would be the messenger carrying it.

Lloyd pressed gently, with an even subtler look.

“Shall we move somewhere else? Too many eyes and ears here.”

“Good. Let’s.”

They left the wedding venue, chatting casually as they entered the mansion.

Soon they were seated across from each other in a reception room where no one would overhear.

“Since you noticed, I won’t beat around the bush. Your guess is correct. Her Majesty has a message meant specifically for you.”

Count Ventura continued, solemn.

“First, Her Majesty made no official statement about the marriage. She only chuckled and muttered to herself.”

“And what did she say?”

“‘Tsk. That groundhog-like fellow—bring him to me right away. There’s something to make him do,’ she said.”

“…So there’s work for me.”

“That’s right.”

Count Ventura nodded.

“Do you remember the Black Wizard Cannavaro whom you subdued in Namaran?”

“Yes.”

“The interrogation ended long ago, and based on the confession obtained, Her Majesty carried out a subjugation operation while you were building the Qanat.”

“A subjugation operation?”

“Yes. It ended successfully.”

“…”

Lloyd marveled inwardly.

As expected of Her Majesty the Queen.

Not only did she finish the interrogation—she wiped out the remnants as well.

But—

“Then what does that have to do with calling me to the royal capital? Do you know why?”

“I don’t know the reason either.”

“Then is calling me to the royal capital Her Majesty’s decree?”

As Lloyd asked, he swallowed dryly.

This was the real point.

The reason didn’t matter.

What mattered was the attitude.

Was she calling him the way she always did—as a tool to be used?

Or had she been forced to treat him differently now?

That was why he’d connected Julian and Scheherazade.

And through them, he’d planted one foot in the Sultanate.

If the royal family treated him too harshly, the Sultan could “take” him.

A pressure point.

A way to make Her Majesty the Queen feel a sense of urgency—and offer better treatment because of it.

‘This is the moment. Her answer will tell me exactly how she intends to treat me now.’

Lloyd watched Count Ventura closely.

The Count shook his head.

“A decree? No.”

And then he continued, even more serious.

“Her Majesty was very clear on this. Calling you to the royal capital this time is neither a decree nor a unilateral order.”

“What do you mean?”

“She specifically said it is a polite and earnest request, made to you as a monarch.”

The moment Lloyd heard that, he clenched his fist under the table.

‘Success.’

An order.

Changed into a request.

Small, but real.

And the beginning of something that could matter a great deal.