Dragon King's Harem Chapter 563. The Morning Banquet III
Dragon King's Harem Chapter 563. The Morning Banquet III
The hall shifted instantly.
Not moved.
Shifted.
Like every single piece of air inside that enormous ceremonial chamber suddenly remembered it had a duty to stand straight.
The great doors opened wider, and the dwarven procession entered.
First came the royal guards, armor polished so brightly the chandelier light fractured across their breastplates in gold and steel flashes. Their boots struck the stone floor in perfect rhythm, deep and heavy, carrying that old dwarven pride that said we carved mountains into kingdoms and dared the world to move us.
Then the banner bearers.
Thick crimson banners embroidered with Durharn’s royal crest, hammer, crown, and mountain flame, rose high above them. The fabric barely swayed as they walked, stiff and ceremonial, probably enchanted to look majestic instead of doing normal cloth things like wrinkling and embarrassing the monarchy.
And behind them… Durharn.
I watched him carefully.
He looked… good.
His beard was braided with gold clasps. His hair was brushed back neatly beneath a heavy ceremonial crown shaped like dark iron peaks. His formal armor was more ornamental than practical, but still forged beautifully, black steel layered with gold lines and red gemstones embedded near the collar and shoulders.
He walked with broad shoulders and a lifted chin, looking stronger, more gallant, more confident than yesterday.
And happy.
That was the worst part.
He looked genuinely happy.
Not the fake royal smile kind either. No, his eyes actually held warmth. His posture had pride. The corners of his mouth twitched like he was barely restraining himself from smiling too much in front of an entire hall.
Ah…
Love.
The ancient debuff.
Absolutely devastating.
Some nobles bowed deeply as he passed.
Dwarven nobles, mostly.
Me?
I only nodded.
Seraphel nodded too.
The Fairy Queen gave a graceful incline of her head.
The other royal guests followed the same pattern.
Kings and queens didn’t bow unless politics demanded it, and this wedding wasn’t important enough to break our necks over.
Durharn didn’t seem offended.
If anything, he seemed too absorbed in his own shining moment to care.
Good for him.
Bad for literally everyone else.
Beside me, Sela was silent.
Not cold this time.
Worse.
Contained.
Her hands were folded neatly over her lap, face composed, back straight, eyes forward. She looked like the perfect attendant of a royal delegation.
But I could feel it.
That hatred under her skin.
Not loud.
Not messy.
Compressed.
Like molten metal sealed inside stone.
Marissa noticed too. Her gaze flicked toward Sela once, then down at her own hands. Evelina sat between quiet concern and readiness, her fingers resting lightly near the bracelet Sela had given her.
Al stood behind us in proper royal magician posture, expression unreadable.
I had to give him credit.
He looked majestic when he wasn’t being a potion-traumatizing goblin.
Durharn reached the throne platform, walked to the base of the steps, then turned around to face the hall.
The room went completely quiet.
Even the distant servants stopped moving.
He lifted one hand.
“Honored guests,” he began, voice deep and carrying easily through the chamber. “Friends, allies, respected rulers, noble houses, and representatives from tribes near and far. Today, you have gathered under the mountain roof of my ancestors, and for that, I offer my gratitude.”
His voice echoed against the pillars.
Strong.
Confident.
Very kingly.
“I know many of you traveled far. Some crossed forests. Some crossed seas. Some came from skies our people rarely touch and lands our people rarely walk. Yet today, you stand here with us to witness a union that I believe will become more than a marriage. It will become a bridge.”
Bridge speech.
Classic.
“We dwarves are born from stone, flame, and labor,” he continued. “We are stubborn. We are proud. Sometimes, perhaps, too proud.”
A few dwarven nobles chuckled softly.
Durharn smiled.
“But pride is not weakness when it protects what matters. Pride becomes weakness only when it closes the door to tomorrow. For many years, our kingdom has stood firm. Strong. Unmoving. We honored tradition. We guarded our borders. We trusted our own hands above all else.”
His gaze moved across the hall.
“And yet even stone needs roots. Even mountains need rain. Even fire needs breath. Today, through my union with Princess Seranaya of the Nymph Tribe, we choose not to abandon who we are, but to grow beyond what we were.”
Oh, he really believed this.
That made it worse.
So much worse.
“This marriage represents trust. It represents courage. It represents hope that old wounds between tribes can heal, and that tomorrow does not need to be ruled by yesterday’s suspicion. I thank the Nymph Tribe for extending their hands to us. I thank Queen Elowen Vireth for her wisdom in guiding this alliance. I thank every noble and guest who came today not only to celebrate, but to witness the birth of a stronger future.”
There.
Name acquired.
Queen Elowen Vireth.
Nymph Queen.
Mastermind.
Poison artisan.
Professional wedding ruiner.
Durharn placed one hand over his chest.
“As king, I have carried many burdens. Duty, war, judgment, and the expectations of blood. But today, I stand not only as a king. I stand as a man who has found someone he wishes to walk beside. Someone who has taught me gentleness does not weaken strength, and that beauty can take root even in stone.”
Ugh… This man was doomed.
Completely doomed.
“May this day be remembered not for politics alone, but for joy. For unity. For trust. And for the promise that our two peoples will step forward together.”
He lowered his hand.
“Thank you for honoring my kingdom with your presence.”
The hall erupted into applause.
Dwarves struck fists against their chests.
Some nobles clapped politely.
The music swelled briefly.
I smiled.
Because that was what a guest should do.
Durharn wasn’t pretending.
That speech came from his chest.
From belief.
From hope.
And that made what would happen next feel uglier than if he had simply been a greedy idiot.
The high priest stepped forward after the applause faded.