CHAPTER 560: LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR 2

Alaric, of course, had planned everything in advance. The moment he heard of the barricade outside Lara’s chamber, he’d devised a countermeasure that would make even the gods chuckle.

Poor Duke Kasmeri now stood at the door, begrudgingly dressed in Alaric’s white wedding robe, nervously waving at the assembled guards. Meanwhile, the true groom had vanished from sight, slipping away with the stealth of a seasoned thief and a grin that could only belong to a man in love.

He took the long route—through the quiet gardens, past the ivy-covered walls, until he reached the rear balcony of Lara’s chamber. The climb was effortless; he had designed this palace wing himself, after all. Every hidden path, every secret corridor, every window latch was etched into his memory.

When he swung himself over the balcony and landed soundlessly on the polished marble floor, a startled shriek tore through the room.

"AHHH—!" Reya’s scream sliced the air like a bell.

Lara was quick to clap a hand over her maid’s mouth. "Reya!" she signaled her to be silent.

Reya’s muffled cry turned into a squeak as she realized who stood before them. "Y–Your Majesty!" she gasped, curtsying so fast she nearly lost her balance. "The door is enormous, Your Majesty. Why did you come through the window?"

Alaric brushed off a stray petal clinging to his sleeve, completely unbothered. "Because," he said smoothly, his eyes flicking to Lara, "I can’t wait another minute to see my bride. And I have no patience for those childish games your brothers and the others are playing outside."

Freya, who had been observing the exchange with growing amusement, chuckled softly. "Indeed, my clever son-in-law," she said with a nostalgic smile. "You remind me so much of that rogue who climbed my window when he came to marry me."

Lara chuckled.

Reya’s cheeks flushed crimson. "Madam!"

But before anyone could say more, a thunderous clamor erupted beyond the door—the unmistakable clash of swords and the shouts of men. The sound rang through the corridors like a storm.

"They haven’t realized it’s not you out there," Lara smiled slyly.

"Let them be fooled longer," Alaric said with a smirk, taking her hand. His tone softened as he looked at her, his eyes filled with unguarded tenderness. "You are so beautiful, my love. Nothing in this world compares to you. You steal my breath every time I see you."

Lara blinked, momentarily speechless, before she burst into laughter. "When did you become so cheesy?"

Alaric frowned, puzzled. "Cheesy?"

"It’s nothing," she said, shaking her head, her smile bright beneath the delicate veil. "But how can you say I’m beautiful when you can’t even see my face?"

Alaric’s lips curved upward. Slowly, reverently, he lifted her veil. Light spilled across her features, and for a heartbeat, time itself seemed to stop.

"Now," he whispered, "there is nothing hiding your beauty."

Her eyes softened, glimmering with both love and mischief. "So, genius, how do we go out now?" she asked, glancing toward the door where chaos still raged.

Alaric straightened, still holding her hand firmly in his. "The same way every bride and groom should," he said, his grin returning. "Through the front door—together."

And with that, he led her forward, her mother and Reya trailing behind, while the sounds of shouting and clashing steel grew louder.

...

Outside the chamber, chaos unfolded like a choreographed storm. Duke Kasmeri—draped in Alaric’s white wedding robes was locked in a "ferocious" duel with the Phoenix Legion. Blades flashed, armor clanged, and sparks flew as steel met steel.

Of course, the soldiers weren’t truly trying to harm him. Every swing was measured, every strike deliberately pulled. Their goal wasn’t victory—it was to delay.

Kasmeri, however, played his role with theatrical flair, spinning his blade dramatically and striking poses that would’ve made any seasoned knight groan. "Ah, such fine opponents!" he declared between parries, his grin almost mischievous. "But must we do this before a wedding? My sleeves are getting wrinkled!"

In the chaos, Master Jethru stood observing with a sharp eye. His years of training with Alaric had honed his instincts too finely to be fooled by costume alone. As Kasmeri deflected another blow, Jethru’s brow furrowed.

"Wait," he muttered. "The swing... it’s all wrong." His gaze narrowed, following the man’s movements. "And that footwork—Alaric never crosses his right foot forward on defense."

Then realization struck.

"Stop!" Jethru roared, his voice slicing through the din. "Cease at once! We’ve been deceived! That is not the groom!"

The soldiers froze mid-motion, their swords halted inches from Kasmeri’s blade.

Jethru’s eyes flashed. "That brat! How dare he trick us with such a childish ruse?"

Kasmeri laughed, the sound rich and unbothered. With a flourish, he removed the mask and gave an exaggerated bow. "Indeed, Master Jethru is as perceptive as ever. My deepest respects."

"Duke Kasmeri!" Aramis barked, stepping forward, his armor gleaming beneath the sunlight.

"Guilty as charged," Kasmeri said with mock solemnity, twirling his sword once before sheathing it.

From behind, King Aragon crossed his arms, scowling like a disappointed older brother. "Truly, Aramis, your skills have gone soft. How could you not know that he is just impersonating the groom?"

Aramis turned toward him, bristling. "Brother, please! If anyone’s to blame, it’s you! You’re the one who dragged me off to that dreadful academy instead of letting me train properly!"

Aragon raised an eyebrow. "Oh, forgive me for wanting you to read a book for once."

"Books don’t win duels!" Aramis shot back.

"Apparently neither do you," Aragon replied dryly.

A ripple of laughter spread through the soldiers. Even Jethru allowed himself a small, reluctant grin before muttering, "Clever boy. He’s already with the bride, I’d wager."

And as realization dawned on the group, they collectively turned toward Lara’s door, where the soon-to-be crowned Emperor and the soon-to-be empress where standing side by side wearing radiant smiles.

"Ah, young love," he mused. "Always breaking the rules." Jethru uttered.

"You...how could you cheat?" Asael asked furiously. How could he have gotten the bride without much difficulty?

When he married Arabella, he was delayed for more than half an hour just going through his wife’s brothers and cousins.

Asael was not reconciled.