Location: Imperial court
The tension in the grand hall had eased slightly, though the weight of unspoken disagreements still lingered. As the courtiers resumed their measured debates, Lady Halvora rose from her seat, her elegant silver fan fluttering gently as she drew the room's attention.
"Your Majesty," she began, her voice as smooth as velvet but carrying an unmistakable resolve, "if I may propose a matter of great importance to the welfare of this Empire and its future generations."
The room quieted, the nobles turning their attention to her with a mix of curiosity and caution. Lady Halvora was not known for frivolity; her words carried weight, often pushing the boundaries of what the court found comfortable.
"I propose that the marriageable age for women be raised to twenty-one and for men to twenty-five," she declared.
Her sharp eyes scanned the room, gauging the ripple of reactions her words provoked. "This would ensure that our young adults are given the time to grow, to mature, and to contribute to the Empire before being thrust into alliances that may not suit them—or the realm."
A collective intake of breath swept through the chamber as whispers erupted. The traditionalists bristled visibly, their objections surfacing almost immediately.
"Preposterous!" a Loyalist noble exclaimed, his face flushed with indignation. "You would upend centuries of tradition! Marriages are not mere unions; they are tools for alliances and diplomacy!"
Another noble from the Neutral faction chimed in, his tone sharp. "This would interfere with the rights of noble houses to decide what is best for their heirs. It is overreach!"
Lady Halvora raised a delicate hand, silencing the murmurs with a practiced grace. "The proposal, I believe, serves the greater good. Too often, we have seen the consequences of premature unions—alliances forged without care, young lives sacrificed to the whims of politics."
Her words stirred a mix of agreement and resistance. The Royalists seemed contemplative, their loyalty to Raphael inclining them to at least consider the bill, while the Loyalists clung stubbornly to their traditions.
To the court's astonishment, Duke Olson, a staunch Loyalist and a figure of great influence, stood to speak. His deep, gravelly voice resonated through the hall.
"Lady Halvora is correct," he said, his tone firm but measured. "I have spent decades watching noble families destroy their young in the name of alliances. Raising the marriageable age would not weaken us; it would strengthen us. We must ensure that our heirs are prepared for the responsibilities they will bear."
The murmurs turned into outright confusion. Duke Olson's support was unexpected, a direct challenge to the traditionalist stance that many assumed he shared.
Duke Louis von Shelb's sharp blue eyes narrowed as he considered the implications. His son Micheal had married Magda when he was twenty, and she only eighteen—a union orchestrated with care to remove her from court politics and shield her from becoming Flora's rival. Now, their marriage, unconsummated and still tentative, stood at risk of being dissolved if this bill passed.
The Duke's voice broke the uneasy silence. "Lady Halvora," he said, his tone even but edged with steel, "does your proposal account for marriages already formed? What becomes of those unions?"
Lady Halvora inclined her head slightly. "The bill allows for those already married to remain so, provided their marriage has been consummated. However, alliances forged but unfulfilled—marriages entered into for political gain yet left unconsummated—would be dissolved."
The statement sent a ripple through the room. Nobles whispered in hushed tones, some nodding in approval while others exchanged uneasy glances.
Raphael's expression remained unreadable, though his crimson eyes flickered with an emotion that only those closest to him could detect—regret.
The decision to marry Magda off at such a young age, born from a desire to shield her from court machinations, now felt like a mistake amplified by time. Raising her in their shared space had only deepened his guilt.
His voice, when it came, was calm but carried the weight of his authority.
"This bill," he said, his tone deliberate, "deserves further discussion. Its implications are far-reaching and require careful consideration."
The court fell silent as Raphael continued. "A vote will be held at the next Council of Lords. Until then, I encourage each of you to reflect not only on the traditions of our Empire but on the future we wish to shape."
As the courtiers began to disperse, their whispers filling the hall once more, Raphael remained seated, his gaze fixed on the fading discussions. His mind was a storm of conflicting emotions.
The prospect of the bill passing brought both relief and unease. On one hand, it aligned with his newfound perspective as a father—Magda deserved the chance to grow without the burdens of a marriage she had not chosen. On the other, the risk to her current union with Micheal was undeniable.
His fingers tightened slightly on the armrest of his throne. Micheal had shown himself to be loyal, clever, and utterly devoted to Magda. Yet, their bond was still fragile, untested by the weight of the Empire's expectations. If the bill passed, what then?
As the nobles filed out, their whispers carried a mix of intrigue and speculation.
"Duke Olson's support changes everything," one noble murmured, their tone tinged with disbelief.
"And the Emperor's interest in the bill? It's subtle, but it's there," another added.
Lady Halvora, her silver fan still in hand, passed by a group of courtiers, her expression serene. "Let them scheme," she whispered to herself. "This is about more than politics. This is about ensuring the Empire survives its own ambitions."
Raphael stood from his throne, the court emptying before him, and allowed himself a quiet sigh. The game was far from over, and the stakes had never been higher. For his daughter, his Empire, and his conscience, he would have to tread carefully.
At the far end of the hall, Duke Louis lingered, his sharp gaze following Raphael's retreating form. He clenched his fists at his sides, the weight of his decisions pressing heavily on his shoulders. Micheal's future—and the future of House Shelb—now hung in precarious balance.
Location: Shelb Estate
The Shelb estate was a vision of opulence and order, its grand halls bustling with activity as the household prepared for the much-anticipated horseless carriage workshop. Micheal von Shelb's arrival the previous evening had already set tongues wagging. By the time dawn broke, the estate's energy was palpable, a blend of curiosity and quiet reverence.
In Micheal's chambers, the sharp clinking of cufflinks against a tray signaled Barnaby's meticulous efforts to ensure his young master was impeccably dressed. The butler, his emerald eyes glinting with satisfaction, adjusted the platinum hair Micheal now wore in a sleek half-ponytail.
"It's good to see you back in the fold, Master Micheal," Barnaby said, his tone carrying a rare warmth. "Productive, punctual, and... presentable. A far cry from the sulking recluse I had to pry from the curtains last month."
Micheal smirked as he fastened his tailored coat. "Thank you for the motivational speeches, Barnaby. Truly inspiring."
Barnaby, unbothered by the sarcasm, stepped back to admire his work. "The early bird catches the respect, sir. And today, respect is yours to command."
Micheal chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "Let's hope so. Though I suspect today's crowd is more interested in gossip than gears."
Location: Shelb Estate, Training Grounds
The training grounds buzzed with life as Micheal made his way through the assembly of nobles who had gathered, their interest in the horseless carriages eclipsed only by their veiled ambitions.
"Lord Micheal," cooed Lady Halvora's cousin, an elegant woman with sharp eyes that missed little. "Such ingenuity! The Emperor himself approving your invention for the Princess—it must feel... validating."
Micheal's smile was practiced, his tone polite but distant. "His Majesty's support is always a privilege, Lady Belen. I trust you'll find the demonstration today informative."
Her lips twitched in disappointment at his deflection, but she pressed on. "And Princess Magda? Surely she has opinions on such innovations. Does she—"
"Magda has impeccable taste," Micheal interjected smoothly. "She's quite fond of the bookshelf enchantments I included. Stabilized for even the bumpiest roads. Quite practical, wouldn't you say?"
Lady Belen blinked, clearly unprepared for the sudden shift to technical details. "Ah, yes... practical."
Another noble, a portly gentleman with a gaudy cravat, stepped in, his tone more direct. "Tell me, Lord Micheal, with your talents and marriage to the Emperor's daughter, have you considered... greater ambitions?"
Micheal tilted his head, feigning ignorance. "Greater ambitions? Why, my lord, I'm already attempting to build roads. That's quite the undertaking. Unless you mean farming? I've heard there's a great deal of innovation happening in irrigation these days."
The noble's face reddened slightly, but before he could respond, Barnaby's impeccable timing intervened.
"Master Micheal," Barnaby announced, his tone both crisp and unyielding, "the recruits await your guidance. Shall we?"
Micheal offered a polite bow to the gathered nobles, his sharp blue eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "Please, enjoy the demonstration. I'm sure you'll find it... enlightening."
The assembled recruits stood in neat rows by the carriages, their expressions a mixture of awe and trepidation. Micheal strode to the front, his presence commanding as he surveyed the group.
"Welcome," he began, his voice carrying across the grounds. "Today, we're not just driving horseless carriages. We're embracing progress—progress that unites tradition with innovation."
He gestured to the carriages behind him, their sleek designs glinting in the sunlight. "These are not mere machines. They are symbols of what we can achieve when we combine ingenuity with purpose. Now," his tone lightened, "let's see how many of you can drive without crashing."
Laughter rippled through the recruits, the tension easing as Micheal's sharp wit drew smiles.
"Form teams," he instructed. "Each of you will have a chance to drive. Let's see how well you do under Barnaby's watchful eye."
Barnaby, ever the picture of composed authority, stepped forward with a nod. "I assure you, gentlemen, that any mishaps will be met with... appropriate consequences."
The recruits chuckled nervously, and Micheal couldn't help but grin. "Let's begin."
As the recruits dispersed to their tasks, Micheal allowed himself a moment to take in the scene. The chaos brewing around him was oddly comforting—a reminder that progress, no matter how messy, was always worth pursuing.