Ian, Holds An Engagement Ceremony

He heard Princess Adrina’s answer only after fifteen days had passed. With that, it turned into May, and the moment she accepted, Ian immediately conveyed the news to the imperial court of the Magnia Empire.

The Magnian court was briefly flustered but soon sent a positive reply. In truth, permitting Princess Adrina to remain by King Ian’s side already implied that they had contemplated marriage.

Although the present plan was “just an engagement,” an engagement ultimately promised marriage; politically, it was highly favorable. The imperial and royal houses of the two countries would now be tied by blood.

Having received the green light from Magnia, Ian made the engagement public. Predictably, many welcomed it. In his four years on the throne he had never taken a woman close, and the public had been uneasy about the royal line.

It should never happen, but if a king were suddenly to die, national chaos could follow. Even with other royals alive, a civil war over succession could erupt.

No one was happier than his mother and younger sister. They had long wished he would meet a woman; they even hoped, in their hearts, that it might be Princess Adrina.

Seeing how delighted they were, Ian felt a twinge of guilt. He intended a nominal marriage, and their joy pricked his conscience.

In any case, the engagement between Ian and Princess Adrina would be a grand affair in both countries. Invitations went out to many courts. Attendance was optional, of course—most of those invited were houses currently at war. He expected they could not attend.

May passed, and as June arrived, the two colonial states were formally divided and recognized as the Kingdom of Vincent and the Kingdom of Rubid. Many countries were shocked that Polia truly executed colonial independence.

They did not, however, recall the colonial fleet to the mainland immediately. Treaties were signed to guarantee protection for a period, during which the new states would raise their own militaries.

Even though colonial independence was a monumental event, public shock was less than expected—because everyone was now focused on the engagement of King Ian and Princess Adrina. In a sense, public attention had shifted.

The two princes—now two kings—who had gained independence aimed to rule in earnest, but the mainland felt little immediate impact. Even the protests against independence had dwindled to only a few hundred.

Their founding ceremonies, therefore, were modest, attended mostly by Polia’s diplomats. Other nations, preoccupied by war, paid little attention.

By contrast, Ian’s engagement drew a luxurious crowd and intense interest.

In July, on the day of the ceremony, even the Doicheun Empire, the Moria Empire, and the Noma Empire sent representatives of real stature. Ian warmly welcomed them.

July 3.

Ian smiled as a familiar, booming voice approached.

“Pah-ha-ha! So you’re finally entering the world of married men—welcome!”

“Welcome, Prince Alexei. For the record, today is an engagement, not a wedding.”

“That’s near enough, isn’t it? How have you been, King Ian?”

“Very well. I hear you’ve had a hard time.”

“Well, the scale of this war is no joke. Still, I expect it to end soon. Ha-ha!”

He laughed it off, but the Noma Empire was clearly strained. They had mobilized over three million men, and kept drafting more to replenish losses; the economy had been bent wholly to war and bled by endless consumption. Even if the war ended, a prolonged period of negative growth seemed inevitable.

“More surprising still—you and Princess Adrina! Overjoyed, are you?”

“I suppose one could say that.”

“Winning such a peerless beauty is no simple thing. Do you know how many sought to wed her?”

“Is that so?”

“You didn’t know? When her photographs spread worldwide, some even fell lovesick. But who could dare petition the Magnian court? No one had the nerve.”

Really? He had thought her breathtaking the first time he saw her, but “lovesickness” sounded like an exaggeration. Perhaps, he mused, that was his reincarnate’s perspective talking.

“When rumors spread that she’d fallen for you and stayed at your palace, do you know how many men cursed your name? If you’d been a mere noble, they would have come to challenge you.”

“I… had no idea.”

“Either way, you’re the victor, King Ian! Pah-ha-ha!”

“Is that how it is?”

“Victory” felt odd—he was planning a nominal engagement, born of guilt more than romance.

“Another thing: you shocked us by granting colonial independence. How did you come to that?”

“I judged it more efficient for our kingdom.”

“Efficient? How so?”

Curious, Prince Alexei listened as Ian explained the structural costs of colonies: no matter how heavy the yoke, human hearts resist; mounting resistance eventually means mounting losses.

“So by granting independence, you bind them with advantageous treaties and come out ahead?”

“Exactly. They handle local complexities themselves, while we continue, as before, to acquire resources with ease.”

“After the treaties lapse, though, you’ll pay market prices.”

“True—but by then we should have a mature bilateral relationship. Since we must deal with each other anyway, we can build mutually beneficial, co-growth foundations.”

“Mutually beneficial… I’m not sure.”

“Nor am I. But I believe this is our best course, so I recognized the two kingdoms.”

He doubted others would agree; most courts still viewed colonies as lands to be oppressed, not understood.

“Well, I understand your thinking. It’s been too long since we shared a drink—shall we?”

“Then I must serve you our kingdom’s best.”

“I’m looking forward to it! Pah-ha-ha!”

Since the point was celebration, they set aside grave topics. Alexei loved drink; a banquet followed, and Ian, buoyed by the mental strength he had gained from the relic, remained clear-headed long into the night.

In the end, thoroughly drunk guests had to be carried to their rooms in the palace.

July 10.

The engagement day finally arrived. The ceremony was held in the Royal Hall.

As a king and an imperial princess, theirs could only be lavish. He did not love ostentation, but as a state rite it demanded heavy expense.

Cloth in brilliant colors draped the ceiling; chandeliers, empowered by magic, cast dreamlike light. A children’s choir sang with nightingale-like voices.

The guest list glittered. The Doicheun Empire sent a young imperial prince; the Noma Empire had Prince Alexei; and the Moria Empire sent its Second Prince, with whom Ian had once negotiated a battleship deal.

Other kingdoms sent dukes and other high dignitaries. Yet the mood split sharply—guests avoided even looking at one another. Given the ongoing war, that was natural.

Their very presence, however, testified to Polia’s stature. Because this was an engagement, the rite itself was lighter in tone—though hardly brief.

“She really is beautiful.”

Princess Adrina, in a pale pink gown with necklace and earrings, looked radiant—as if she shone of her own accord. Many guests stared in admiration, then glanced at Ian with a twinge of envy.

He met her eyes and gave a slight nod; she returned it. It was not a signal, only a mutual “I’m fine.”

“This is nothing like the last engagement.”

The broken engagement with Michelle had been perfunctory. Now the scale was incomparable, and the rings were extraordinarily valuable—enough to buy a mansion.

He slowly slipped the ring onto her slender, pale finger.

“I, Ian di Polia, present the Ring of Connection to Princess Adrina di Magnia.”

Princess Adrina lifted the ring from a golden tray and placed it on Ian’s finger.

“I, Princess Adrina di Magnia, present the Ring of Connection to King Ian di Polia.”

With the exchange of the “Ring of Connection,” their pledge to marry was sealed. He had never imagined, when he first met her, that they would come to this. At least, he thought, the nagging about marriage would cease for a while.

“Or will it shift to ‘When is the wedding?’”

He caught his mother’s delighted smile. She had endured the slights of concubines yet raised him and his sister with strength; he felt only gratitude.

“To deceive such a mother… it pricks my conscience.”

If she learned of his arrangement with Adrina, he feared she would be deeply disappointed. In any case, the engagement drew to a close.

What remained was the banquet for guests. He worried: would it be all right? Men at war now stood face to face—trouble was likely.

Indeed, that fear became reality. A brawl erupted at the evening banquet—between members of the two warring camps.

The Royal Guard had to intervene hard. Bloody noses were the least of it; some suffered fractures. He could only sigh—and be grateful it hadn’t happened during the ceremony.

By the next day, the fracas was everywhere in the news; the scale was too big to hide. People were aghast: foreigners trading punches in a palace ballroom—thuggish behavior.

The incident ended without further escalation, and the delegations dispersed. Ian thought it over—until news arrived that made him blanch. An entirely unforeseen disaster had struck.

“Prince Jenta of the Doicheun Empire, returning home after attending the engagement of King Ian of Polia and Princess Adrina of Magnia, went missing when his ship was sunk by a mysterious torpedo attack!”

A submarine of unknown origin had torpedoed the vessel carrying Prince Jenta. “Missing” in name, it might as well have meant dead.