CHAPTER 314: CHAPTER 314 JUICE

"Honored guests, our brothers and sisters from the Osprey Clan, I warmly welcome you to the Rice Clan today," Alexander began, his deep voice resonating across the grand courtyard.

"It has been far too long since our clans were divided by war and conflict. For generations, our people have looked upon one another as rivals, if not enemies. Yet here we stand, no longer bound by the grudges of the past. Today, we look ahead to a future of unity and prosperity. Thus, I take great joy in witnessing two of the greatest clans in the region finally standing together in harmony."

His words drew thunderous applause.

Elders nodded gravely, warriors raised their fists in approval, and the younger generation clapped eagerly, already dreaming of the possibilities such an alliance would bring.

Alexander, basking in their response, allowed himself a faint smile.

It was his efforts, his diplomacy and persistence, that had carved this moment out of centuries of animosity.

He straightened his robe with a proud gesture, his chest swelling with accomplishment.

Yet amidst the cheers and celebration, softer murmurs flowed like an undercurrent.

Not every voice was filled with joy.

Behind the lines of smiling faces, shadows of doubt and gossip stirred.

"I worry for you, young miss," whispered a tall, dark-haired woman, her beauty refined and elegant.

She leaned closer so only her companion could hear. "Rumor spreads that the famed young master of this Rice Clan is... not as he once was. They say he has long since been driven into madness, deceived by illusions and folly. I fear what life awaits you at his side."

Her companion turned her head, strands of golden hair catching the sunlight like threads of spun gold.

She was more radiant still, her beauty the kind that drew every gaze in the courtyard without effort.

Yet behind her poised expression lay a heaviness in her eyes.

"Speak no ill of my betrothed, Edith," she replied firmly, though her voice carried a trace of weariness.

"The matter has been decided. What’s done is done. Whether he is sane or insane, fair or foul, it changes nothing. I have no choice but to accept my place. This marriage is not for love, but for unity. It is a chain I must bear for the sake of our clan."

Edith frowned, her brows knitting as she searched her friend’s face. "But you are still so young, barely twenty. You stand at the very height of your beauty, your life ahead of you—must it truly be chained to a man whispered to be mad and broken?"

The blonde girl’s lips curved into a soft, bitter smile. She raised her chin, her regal posture betraying her noble bloodline. "At twenty, I am no longer a child to dream of freedom, Edith. Today I am a woman of the Osprey Clan. And as such, I must fulfill my duty, no matter the cost. If this is the path carved for me, then I will walk it—whether through sunlight or shadow."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with resignation.

Around them, the celebration roared on, but for the young bride-to-be, the joyous cries felt distant, as if they belonged to another world entirely.

The Osprey Clan was received with all the honor the Rice Clan could provide.

Servants hurried about with trays of steaming dishes and jars of fine wine, while musicians strummed lutes and flutes, filling the air with gentle, harmonious notes.

The courtyard glowed with rows of lanterns, each flame flickering like a star against the darkening sky.

Laughter, conversation, and clinking cups painted the evening with festivity, yet beneath it all was a current of anticipation—for tonight would be the first time that Riley, the young master of the Rice Clan, would meet his betrothed.

"It’s him!" someone whispered, though the voice carried loudly enough to draw a few quick glances.

The hall seemed to still as a figure stepped through its entrance.

Draped in flowing black robes embroidered with faint silver patterns, Riley moved with a measured stride.

The garment’s dark hue accentuated his tall frame, giving him a striking and almost imposing silhouette.

His face, sharp and undeniably handsome, bore a calm confidence that made him seem untouchable, as though he belonged to a higher realm than those around him.

Some of the younger girls from both clans blushed openly, whispering behind their sleeves.

Even the men found themselves watching, grudgingly admitting that there was something magnetic about his presence.

Riley’s gaze swept across the hall with practiced composure.

First, he looked to the main table, where his parents sat with dignified poise, their expressions betraying both pride and expectation.

Beside them were the elders of the Rice Clan, who sat with measured seriousness, and across from them, several high-ranking members of the Osprey Clan, dressed in their finest robes.

The weight of both clans’ futures seemed to rest within that single gathering.

And then Riley’s eyes shifted.

She sat not far from the Osprey Clan elders, the young woman who would soon be his wife.

For a moment, it seemed as though time itself hesitated, the noise of the hall fading into nothing.

Her hair, golden as autumn wheat, shimmered beneath the lantern light, framing a face that could topple kingdoms.

Her figure was graceful yet striking, a natural balance of elegance and allure.

Though many women were present—daughters of nobles, servants of beauty—none could compare.

She was radiant, as if meant to draw every gaze, as if destiny itself had crafted her for the moment she would meet him.

A stir ran through the Osprey Clan’s younger men, who shifted uneasily as Riley’s eyes lingered on her.

They knew well that their clan’s jewel was soon to belong to another.

Riley’s lips curved into the faintest smile.

His stride, calm but deliberate, carried him forward.

The crowd seemed to part unconsciously, no words spoken, no orders given, yet everyone moved aside as though compelled.

His black robes trailed lightly across the polished floor, each step steady, unhurried, filled with an unspoken authority.

Whispers erupted among the guests.

"So that’s the Rice Clan’s young master..."

"He’s far more handsome than I imagined."

"But is it true what they say—that his mind is... unstable?"

"Shh, not so loud!"

The blonde beauty sat composed, though her heart beat faster as she watched him approach.

She had heard countless rumors of this man—some praising his brilliance, others cursing his madness.

Now, as he closed the distance, she could see with her own eyes the confidence in his bearing, the strength in his gaze.

He stopped before her.

The air seemed to grow still once more, the music of the flutes fading into the background.

Every eye was fixed on the pair.

For the first time, Riley and his bride-to-be stood face-to-face.

"You must be Aurora Osprey," Riley said as he came to a halt before her.

His voice was smooth, steady, with the kind of assurance that came from someone who had never once questioned his own place in the world.

He inclined his head politely, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed something less formal.

"The reports I received did not do you justice. You are far more beautiful than I had imagined."

Aurora met his gaze with cold composure, her sapphire eyes unblinking.

"And you must be Riley Rice," she answered, her tone calm yet edged with frost. "I’ve heard tales that you can defeat a dozen strong men without breaking a sweat. That is... interesting."

Her words were polite, but her lips remained still, refusing even the courtesy of a smile.

She did not want to encourage him.

Riley’s confident gaze, however, lingered on her, openly admiring the curve of her figure, the delicate line of her jaw, the golden sheen of her hair under the lantern light.

His scrutiny was bold, unhidden, and it made Aurora’s skin prickle. Heat stirred unbidden in her chest, an unwelcome quickening of her heartbeat.

She hated it—the loss of control, the realization that his stare unsettled her. She shifted slightly, straightening her posture, as if to shield herself from the weight of his eyes.

Before either could speak again, a voice like a growl thundered through the air.

"I find that tale laughable, princess."

Gasps rose from the surrounding crowd as a towering figure pushed back his chair and rose to his full height.

He was broad of shoulder and thick of arm, his face marred with scars that spoke of countless battles.

His presence carried the air of a brawler who lived by brute strength alone.

The man sneered, pointing a calloused finger at Riley. "From what I’ve seen, this so-called young master only defeats men when they’re bound to a chair. Hardly the act of a warrior worthy of legend."

A hush fell over the gathering.

The Osprey Clan’s guests exchanged glances, some smirking, others wary, while the Rice Clan members stiffened at the insult.

A few younger men from Riley’s side bristled, their hands inching toward their blades, but the elders raised a hand to keep them in check.

Uneasy laughter rippled through the hall, forced and hesitant. No one dared speak too loudly, but everyone leaned forward, their curiosity piqued.

The festive atmosphere from moments ago now burned with tension, the entire hall waiting to see how Riley would respond to the provocation.

Aurora’s gaze flicked from the brutish challenger back to Riley.

For the first time, her icy calm wavered slightly. Part of her wondered—would her betrothed shrink under the weight of insult, proving the rumors true?

Or would he rise to meet it, showing her a strength that was not just legend, but reality?

Riley, for his part, did not move immediately.

His expression remained unreadable, though the faintest trace of amusement glimmered in his dark eyes.

He let the silence stretch, let the weight of expectation build, as if testing how long the crowd could hold its breath.

When he finally opened his mouth, every ear strained to catch his words.