Chapter 46

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 46

Chapter Title: Hello, Good Wife

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The second wedding ceremony had begun.

It was a rite utterly unlike the first, which had been as flashy as any prince or princess's union—lifetimes spent amid boisterous attention and lavish formalities. This one felt far closer to the essence of the occasion.

At the end of the aisle, before the dais where the archbishop awaited, Biern slowly turned to face the bride he had escorted himself. Light streamed down upon the pair, filtering through the chapel's rose window.

Biern gazed quietly down at Erna, the corners of his lips curving softly. His bride, enveloped in layer upon delicate layer of ornate lace, resembled a grand blossom. It was a wedding gown that deserved applause for the tailor's skill in elevating a country girl's fondness for frills into classical elegance.

Amid the guests' bated breaths, Biern lifted the veil draped over the bride's face as per the ritual. It was merely a step in the ceremony; the veil held no real meaning or purpose when concealing a face he already knew well. Especially since this wasn't their first time.

Biern calmly regarded the unveiled bride's face. That simple act alone made Erna shrink as if stripped bare, averting her gaze this way and that. Her cheeks flushed pink, drawing another smile from him.

The wedding proceeded smoothly in a serene atmosphere.

Erna, who had been stiff as a board, transformed into an eager student's face the moment the archbishop began his sermon, her eyes sparkling with focus. Inspired by the scholarly bride, the archbishop responded with a verbose address twice as passionate as his usual.

Biern watched the fervent exchange between the theory-spouting cleric and his rapt listener with the detached gaze of one observing a distant riverside fire. Whenever Erna nodded slightly to affirm her resolve, the archbishop's solemn expression softened like spring sunlight for a fleeting moment. In stark contrast, his glance at the groom beside her—upon whom divine providence seemed utterly wasted—remained as cold as frost.

Whenever words like "together," "forever," or "eternally" arose, the archbishop would emphasize them with wide eyes fixed intently on Biern.

Do you hear my words, Your Highness?

Do you grasp my intent, Your Highness?

Even under the archbishop's piercing glare—praying earnestly that no mishap would bring them together again on a wedding dais—Biern replied with his unchanging smile.

"Yes, yes. Of course."

He had worn that very smile at the first wedding, only to appear four years later holding another bride's hand, troubling the man deeply.

Gazing pityingly at the fresh blossom of a bride, the archbishop proclaimed the holy union more thunderously than ever, blessing the newlyweds. Bells tolled as if on cue, blending with the guests' applause that filled the chapel.

Biern concluded the rite with a deep bow and a kiss for Erna. Unwilling to risk rumors of the bride fainting, he kept it to a light brush of lips.

As Biern's lips parted, Erna cautiously opened her tightly shut eyes. Her pupils, aglow with autumn sunlight, sparkled like jewels.

She tilted her head slightly, pondering something deeply, then looked up at Biern with newfound resolve in her gaze. And she smiled. No longer averting her eyes. A face mingling shyness and excitement, fear and anticipation.

Erna Dynister was beautiful.

Biern found that clear fact immensely satisfying.

"No."

The words she'd heard countless times while preparing for the wedding echoed once more.

"No, Your Highness."

The only change—if it could be called one—was the form of address.

Erna stared blankly at Mrs. Fitz, who had firmly overruled her. All she'd said was that she could bathe herself, yet she felt like a traitor plotting rebellion.

"You are now the lady of Schwerin Palace. The first princess consort of Lechen and Grand Duchess, bearing the duty to uphold the dignity befitting that station."

Was bathing alone such a grave affront to a grand duchess's dignity?

Though she struggled to understand, Erna didn't argue.

Mrs. Fitz, formerly the prince's wet nurse, enjoyed the full trust of the royal family. The queen herself had advised Erna to trust and follow her guidance, and Biern felt the same. To Erna, she was effectively a teacher. Indeed, over the past months, Mrs. Fitz had been a great help—handling the wedding gown, trousseau, and countless other bride-side preparations.

Mrs. Fitz was strict and cool-headed but wise, discerning, and dignified. Baroness Baden had praised her: a good person. Knowing she'll look after you puts my mind at ease. Those words had come with a relieved smile.

Reminding Erna once more of the weighty titles prefixed to her name, Mrs. Fitz shot a sharp glance at the hesitant maids.

"Do what must be done."

The maids sprang into action at her silent command, preparing the grand duchess's bath. By the time Erna came to her senses, she was already seated in a tub filled with scented oils and petals. The lack of time to feel shame was a small mercy.

Erna dazedly reflected on the day. She'd started it as Erna Hardy by her grandmother's side, and now here she was as Erna Dynister, naked in a lavish bathroom surrounded by strangers.

"It's alright, Your Highness."

Lisa whispered in her ear as she poured warm water over Erna's hunched shoulders. The title still felt foreign to Erna, but Lisa used it with proud naturalness.

Our Grand Duchess is the best!

Lisa's fervent, encouraging gaze only deepened Erna's embarrassment.

Head bowed low, Erna fiddled with the floating petals, praying for time to pass quickly. She learned that wish had summoned a greater trial only after leaving the bath and entering the grand duchess's bedroom—her new space.

It was huge.

The thought that had overwhelmed her dozens of times since entering the palace struck again.

Everything was excessively grand.

Even moving from the Barons' to the Hardys' had astonished her with its scale and luxury, but this place dwarfed that.

Beautiful, priceless luxuries filled the vast space. Though called her room, nothing truly belonged to Erna. It had been redone for the grand duchess, but Mrs. Fitz—more precisely, Biern—had arranged the trousseau.

A shameless grand duchess arriving with nothing but her body.

Erna knew how the Lechen people disparaged her. It stung, but it was undeniable truth.

He had prepared everything.

The Barons, unable to maintain even a country home, and the near-bankrupt Hardys had given Biern only debts. And he had shouldered them willingly.

The Barons' estate was now safely Erna's, and House Hardy had avoided ruin. Thanks to Biern's money. Add in all these preparations for a bride with nothing, and how much must it total?

While Erna sat lost in a daze, the maids busily adorned the first-night bride. They dressed her oiled body in nightgown and robe, loosely tying her lush brushed hair with a ribbon.

"Have a peaceful night, Your Highness."

Mrs. Fitz, who had maintained a rigid expression throughout, offered her first gentle smile. Only then did Erna notice the other maids had vanished.

As the door closed, leaving her alone, Erna took a deep breath to steel herself and surveyed the room. Wrapped in soft darkness lit only by the fireplace and candelabras.

Spotting two glasses on the flower-decked table, Erna instinctively tensed. She roughly knew what sharing a wedding night with her husband entailed. It just didn't feel real between her and Biern.

Pacing uncertainly, Erna cautiously perched on the edge of the massive bed. Memories of the long day warmed into view in the gentle firelight.

After the ceremony, they rode an open carriage through Schwerin's streets in procession. So many people had gathered—it felt like the entire city had turned out.

Her breath quickened and dizziness returned, but Erna endured. Initially terrified and staring ahead, she eventually managed to smile and wave as Biern had instructed.

"But, Your Highness, that doesn't sound like cheers."

To Erna's whispered flinch at the crowd's sharp reactions, Biern replied with a nonchalant smile.

"Eh, cheers or jeers—let it flow past your ears, and they sound the same."

Dismissing it lightly, he even graced a direction shouting near-insults with an elegant smile and wave. The epaulettes and medals on his ceremonial attire gleamed in the sunlight.

Erna occasionally forgot her role as grand duchess, gazing at him. His sharp lines and refined features created an air of utmost elegance. The harmony of his slender build and sturdy frame did the same.

As she thought his sun-kissed pale golden hair looked incredibly soft, Erna startled and dropped her gaze. Like a child caught in mischief. Even at the banquet after returning to the palace, that feeling recurred, and she averted her eyes each time.

Sitting primly, staring at her fingertips, Erna unwittingly dozed off. She startled awake near midnight. Biern seemed still mingling with friends.

After some hesitation, Erna curled up small on one end of the vast bed. No. Mrs. Fitz's stern admonition echoed, but exhaustion overwhelmed her resistance.

Just for a bit.

Rationalizing her choice, Erna drifted off. Sweet floral scents and romantic candle shadows enveloped the bride alone on her wedding night.

Biern ascended to the bedroom well past midnight. By the time he readied for bed, night had deepened further.

The servants, silent as shadows, withdrew, leaving the master suite in profound quiet. Biern, loosely tying his robe, passed through the connecting hall to the grand duchess's room.

Slowly opening the door, a sweet fragrance greeted him first. Then the soft glow. And next...

Scanning the unusually silent room, Biern's eyes stopped on the bed—precisely, on Erna at its edge. His gaze upon his wife.

He approached silently. Even as his shadow fell over her, Erna showed no sign of waking. Realizing she was truly asleep, he let out a soft chuckle.

"Erna."

Biern called to his carefree new bride in a voice tinged with amusement. She stirred faintly, then her eyes snapped open the instant his hand touched her cheek. Focus returning to her dazed gaze, Erna shrieked in terror. Hardly a pleasant reaction.

Sighing, Biern gently pressed the hands cupping her face, drawing her fleeing eyes back to his.

"Hello, good wife."

Gazing into her wide, frightened eyes, Biern offered a tender greeting.