The Grand Duchy of Borgia's austere winter palace is situated in the heart of the northern mountains. From the snow-covered cliffs, tall spires and intricate domes rise up, making an impressive fortress against the harsh, icy landscape.
The palace is constructed of gleaming white stone and intricate architectural details, suggesting both grandeur and impregnable strength. Massive walls and battlements surround the central structures, creating formidable defenses against any potential threats from the treacherous terrain and mysterious creatures that may lurk in the icy wastes beyond.
The palace towers and turrets of the Grand Duchy of Borgia stand tall against the dark, snowy skies of the north and are always reinforced. Their thick walls and fences are a reminder of the dangers that lurk in the wild, unforgiving lands beyond.
This isolated citadel, perched atop the rugged mountain peaks, stands as the sole bulwark between the people of Borgia and the mysterious, savage creatures that prowl the frozen wastes.
No one can predict where the next attack will come from—whether it be hulking, tusked behemoths, chittering hordes of venomous vermin, or worse, entities cloaked in shadow and ice.
But within the grand palace's imposing ramparts, the mixed-blood denizens of Borgia find sanctuary. Here, they are safe from the discrimination and persecution that plagues them in the neighboring kingdoms and empires. This frozen fortress has become a haven, a place where their unique lineages are celebrated rather than feared or shunned.
The architects of this northern stronghold have ensured that no expense was spared in its defenses. Arrow slits, ballistae emplacements, and even the nascent rumblings of gunpowder artillery dot the walls, ready to rain destruction upon any who would dare to breach this impregnable redoubt.
It's early in the morning when the butler runs faster to the office of the Grand Duke. He then knocked respectfully; the butler waited until the assistant opened the door, granting him entry.
"The reply from the proposal from Count Rotschild, Your Highness," he announced, his voice rich and sonorous as he addressed the Grand Duke.
"That was fast," Roxanne remarked, her gaze fixed on the butler with an air of measured authority. "Read it, Red," she commanded, her voice betraying neither impatience nor eagerness.
The letter she held contained the approval of marriage between herself and Vivianne Rotschild, the first daughter of the late Count Rotschild. Yet, as the words sunk in, a wave of anger surged through her assistant.
"The illegitimate daughter?! They truly regard us like trash!" Red exploded, his fury evident as he spat out his disdain. But instead of sharing in his outrage, Roxanne merely smiled—a calm, enigmatic smile that hinted at deeper understanding.
"You seem to forget what kind of residents we have in this Grand Duchy," she replied sternly, her tone shifting to one of admonishment. "Dare to utter such 'illegitimate' words again, and you will find yourself in deep trouble."
Red immediately fell silent, chastened by her words. "Pardon my insolence, Grand Duke. "I stepped over the boundary," he quickly stated, kneeling in submission.
"Good. You're beginning to understand," Roxanne said, her voice softening slightly. "Vivianne—the woman favored by the spirits."
"Huh?" Red asked, confusion etched on his face.
"Prepare to go to pick up my bride," Roxanne continued, amusement glinting in her eyes. "Draft a response; I shall arrive in one week to claim her, along with the dowry."
"Your Highness?" Red stammered, still grappling with the implications of her words.
"Do you not have ears, Red? I said prepare it. And I want only beta guards to accompany me to Rotschild County," Roxanne clarified, her demeanor growing more resolute. She had heard tales of the unique pheromones that belonged to the most beautiful omega in the Erengrad Empire.
Roxanne's lips curled into a subtle, amused smile as she examined the letter in her hand. The faint trace of spirit energy lingering on the parchment was not lost on her discerning gaze. Beneath the formal correspondence, a single line penned in shimmering silver ink caught her eye: No need for a grand marriage, just marry me in the temple, and let's depart for the North right away.'
"What an intriguing omega," Roxanne mused, her fingers brushing over the elegant script. With a light touch, the letter vanished from her grasp, concealed from prying eyes.
"I wonder how this Vivianne must look to be deemed the most beautiful omega in the Erengrad Empire," the Grand Duke murmured, feeling challenged for the first time.
-
The response from the Grand Duke did not take long in arriving. Utilizing the power of a teleportation portal, Roxanne's messenger reached the Rothschild estate in a mere four days—a fraction of the two-month journey the normal route would have required.
Valdemar could feel his excitement rising as he read the details of the Grand Duke's generous offer. A dowry of ten million gold, four war horses, a carriage filled with rare and valuable monster byproducts, and a thousand exquisite mythril swords—the wealth and resources on display were staggering.
"The Grand Duke will be here in three days, as stated in this letter," Valdemar announced to his mother, Genevieve, unable to contain his eagerness. "She will come to the temple, marry Vivianne, and then take her back to the North."
Genevieve listened with a satisfied smile. "The dowry from the Grand Duke will be most helpful in preparing Liselotte for the Emperor," she said, a gleam of calculated delight in her eyes. "Such an extravagant child for an ugly man like the Grand Duke."
Both Valdemar and his mother, Genevieve, could not help but feel a twinge of skepticism as they considered the Grand Duke's request for a simple, expedited marriage ceremony in the temple.
"Like mother, like daughter—she'll be nothing more than a concubine her whole life," Genevieve sneered, her eyes narrowed with disdain. "Meanwhile, your true sister Liselotte will become the Empress. Just imagine the honor that will bring our family."
Valdemar nodded, his own pleasure evident. "Exactly, and we'll be receiving even more from the Emperor for Liselotte," he stated confidently, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Indeed, a lavish wedding is typically the mark of an alpha truly cherishing their omega mate. Especially for one of such high rank as the Grand Duke."
The unspoken implication hung in the air—that this hurried temple marriage was merely a means as a status for the Grand Duke, and that Vivianne would forever be relegated to the status of a glorified mistress, rather than the revered position of Grand Duchess.
"The Grand Duke must not hold Vivianne in particularly high regard if she is content to claim her in such a perfunctory manner," Genevieve mused, her tone dripping with disdain. "No doubt she sees our daughter as little more than a convenient prize to be won and quickly tucked away in the northern palace."
Valdemar's expression darkened slightly at his mother's words, but he could not deny the logic behind her assessment. The lack of fanfare and pomp surrounding this union did seem to suggest that Roxanne's interest in Vivianne was more practical than romantic. "Call Vivianne here at once."
"Yes, my lord," the butler replied.