Chapter 36 Invitation
The next day. The study in the Commander's Mansion.
Darius, the Hand of Noxus, is again carrying a child.
Draven burst in early in the morning, shoved Alice, who was still rubbing her eyes after waking up, onto the soft couch in his brother's study, and gave a high-sounding reason: "Brother! Today we have to go to the Wolf Spirit Temple to conduct an on-site inspection, finalize the details of the wedding arrangements, and send out invitations! Alice is in your care!"
Before the words were even finished, the person had vanished.
Darius looked at Alice wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, too lazy to even get angry. He sighed resignedly.
He silently rose, walked to the side, and began to remove his signature heavy black armor. The metal parts clanged together with dull thuds.
He was almost always wearing his armor, which was cold and hard. Alice complained that it was uncomfortable when she pressed against him, but she would make a fuss if he didn't. So he had to give in to her.
Having removed his armor and wearing only a dark-colored shirt, he had just sat back down in his chair when Alice automatically moved closer to him, grabbing a picture book and flipping through it noisily.
The study was finally quiet for the time being.
Not long after, Tamara came in carrying a shiny silver plate piled high with an ice cream banana split drizzled with chocolate sauce and sprinkles, looking incredibly cool. As soon as she put the plate down, Alice's eyes lit up, and her little hands started itching to grab it.
“Wait.” Darius looked up, frowned, and said to Tamara, “Take it away. She’s pregnant, don’t put ice on her again.”
Tamara didn't move; she stood still, her tone remaining flat:
"Commander. Although I have no experience with pregnancy and childbirth, based on basic physiological common sense, Lord Draven and Miss Alice have been together for no more than ten days since their reunion. At this point in time, it would be impossible to detect any signs of pregnancy by any reliable means—unless, it's not his."
Darius slowly turned his head, his eyes seeming to pierce through the walls, shooting straight at someone busy in the Wolf Spirit Hall. His knuckles cracked, and the old scar on his forehead seemed to be slightly red from the blood pooling around it.
"...De, Lai, Wen."
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afternoon.
Draven, unusually, finished his "official business" early. Humming a little tune, he waved an exquisitely crafted invitation with gold trim in his hand. He strode into the study of the commander's mansion, ready to take his precious child home.
He pushed open the door, a knowing smile still on his face, only to find the atmosphere in the study much more somber than he had imagined. Instead of burying himself in his files as usual, Godrayus stood with his back to the door, in front of the huge French windows, gazing at the gray sky outside.
"Brother! Everything's done. I'm taking Alice home!" He said with a smile, reaching out to scoop Alice up.
"Stop." Darius slowly turned around, his face expressionless. "You...have nothing to say to me?"
Draven paused, his outstretched hand still: "What did you want to say? Huh? Oh! Bro, you've worked hard!" He then gave his brother a nonchalant Noxian military salute.
Darius took a step forward, his massive shadow looming over Draven: "Iris is pregnant? Hmm?"
Draven's smile froze, and cold sweat poured down his face. "!!!...Heh...heh heh..." he chuckled dryly, his mind racing.
Darius pressed closer, practically spitting out the question through gritted teeth: "Whose child is she carrying? She's only been back for ten days, whose child is she carrying? Kled's?!"
"That's impossible!" Draven jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, not caring about anything else in his panic: "She came back to me on her very first day! She's still a virgin!"
His voice trailed off as he spoke, clearly lacking confidence, "...Besides, it's just that we can't detect it right now. Maybe she's already pregnant. We'll be able to find out in ten days or two weeks!"
His own flawed and sophistical arguments made even him feel guilty. Seeing Darius's gaze growing colder and his fists clenched, Draven knew the wisdom of not fighting a losing battle.
"Here's the invitation, bro! The wedding's in seven days! Wolf Spirit Palace! Remember to dress nicely!"
He swiftly shoved the ornate invitation into Darius's hand, then with lightning speed, grabbed Alice, who was playing with dolls nearby, slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and dashed out of the study without looking back, leaving only a gust of wind in his wake.
"Draven!!!" Darius roared from behind, probably because the table had been damaged again.
Darius's chest heaved violently, and it took him a while to barely suppress the urge to drag his bastard brother back and beat him to death. He looked down at the gaudy invitation in his hand, the gold lettering glaringly obvious:
"A cordial invitation is extended to General Darius, Supreme Commander of Noxus."
Seven days later, I will visit the Wolf Spirit Palace.
Witness the sacred wedding of the Glory Executioner Draven and Lady Alice.
And we earnestly request that you serve as our guide.
[Guide]: In some traditional or specially arranged weddings in Noxus, this is the role of the person who, in place of the bride's deceased or unable-to-attend father, leads the bride down the aisle and entrusts her to the groom. This is an important role symbolizing protection, blessing, and the transfer of responsibility.
Darius fell silent upon seeing the words "guide".
Many images flashed before his eyes like a revolving lantern: two little brats fighting over bread in the dilapidated streets of Besilico; the hotheaded young man on the battlefield who was bloodthirsty and recklessly searching for something; his younger brother who was now making a name for himself in the arena but still had a terrible temper... and this Alice beside him, silly, clingy, but whose heart he couldn't harden.
The anger was still there, but more than that, there was a feeling that was hard to describe. Headache, helplessness, and perhaps a tiny… extremely faint thought that this brat of a brother would finally have a home… that was some consolation.
He stroked the gilded edges of the invitation, and finally, all his emotions boiled down to a low curse:
"That brat..."
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The power center of the Immortal Fortress, Swain's study.
A raven carrying the overly ornate invitation landed on Swain's desk. Jericho Swain unfolded the invitation, his gaze sweeping over the flamboyant lettering and crossed axe patterns, his face expressionless, as if he were merely reading a routine battle report.
“Draven…and Alice.” He repeated the two names in a low voice, his fingertips tapping rhythmically on the table. The raven on his shoulder tilted its head and cawed.
He instructed his subordinates, his voice calm and steady: "Prepare a gift. It doesn't need to be ostentatious, but it must be befitting my status, and... practical and expensive." He paused, then added, "Also, tell Draven that I will be there on time to officiate."
For him, this was more than just a wedding. It was a further solidification of his loyalty to Draven, an opportunity to demonstrate the unity within the new Noxus to the outside world, and the final validation of his strategy of "let her hear your name."
As for love? It's just one of the most effective catalysts for moving the pieces.
...
The lavish invitations, like pebbles thrown into a calm lake, stirred ripples in certain circles of the immortal fortress.
Madame Farrell's slender fingers gripped the gilded invitation, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. That same mouth that had once uttered such vulgar words as "snoring in her sleep" to her, was now about to swear eternal loyalty to another woman?
A cold, almost twisted smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Then, slowly and deliberately, she tore the invitation, along with the envelope, into pieces and tossed them into the burning fireplace. The flames leaped, reflecting the flames of humiliation and anger in her eyes.
"Draven... do you think you can get rid of the past like this? I've remembered the humiliation you brought me."
...
Miss Mia locked herself in her room, crying until her eyes were swollen. That public accusation of being "stupid" remains a laughing stock in her social circle. She grabbed an expensive vase, intending to smash it, but ultimately put it down helplessly.
Looking at the unfamiliar name "Alice" on the invitation, a deep sense of powerlessness gripped her.
It turns out, he wasn't incapable of love, he just didn't love them. All the humiliation, perhaps, stemmed from the fact that... none of them were "her."
She tucked the invitation into the bottom of the drawer, as if that would bury that unbearable memory.
...
"Wow—!" A dramatic gasp echoed through the rehearsal hall. Serafina held the invitation between two fingers as if it were something unclean.
She walked around it once, her face full of undisguised sarcasm.
"Our executioner has finally decided to permanently hang his 'spinning axe' on some... well, special display shelf?"
She deliberately drew out her words, eliciting chuckles from the surrounding band members. "Let me see, 'Alice'... what a pure and innocent name."
A malicious smile curled her red lips. "Perfect for his...back-to-basics aesthetic taste. After all, after playing with smart people for a while, you always need some simple 'entertainment,' don't you?"
She casually tossed the invitation to one of her suitors, saying, "Take it, frame it, and hang it at the theater entrance as a warm-up for our upcoming play, 'Beauty and the Beast (Intellectual Disability Version)'."
She used the harshest language to mask her insignificant sense of defeat.
...
Sophia quickly scanned the invitations in the Silver Fox Guild office. Her sharp eyes swept over the names "Draven" and "Alice," and a shrewd smile appeared on her lips.
She and Draven had a mutually beneficial relationship; he helped her "take care of" some business rivals, while she provided him with money and "face" on certain occasions.
"This madman is actually getting married?" She chuckled and shook her head, but showed no anger whatsoever.
She pressed the call button and efficiently instructed the secretary who entered: "Prepare a generous gift in the name of the Chamber of Commerce. It should be practical and elegant, such as a set of high-end crystal wine glasses. Also, help me find out Miss Alice's preferences and prepare a gift that suits her taste."
The secretary was somewhat surprised: "You...?"
Sofia picked up her teacup, her expression calm: "Having more friends means having more options, especially a 'friend' like Draven. He's at the height of his power right now, and his wedding is the perfect opportunity to solidify our relationship. Resentment? That's the worst emotional investment. Offering blessings, and letting those blessings bring future benefits, is the wise thing to do."
In her view, feelings are fleeting, but interests are eternal. Draven's marriage merely changed their mode of cooperation.
...
Irina, who was over forty but still looked very elegant, received an invitation in her quiet courtyard. She had been Draven's supervisor at one of his temporary posts, and the young and impetuous Draven had been attracted to her mature charm and formidable skills, and they had a brief, ambiguous relationship that wasn't quite a romance.
She read the invitation carefully, a gentle smile appearing on her face.
"Has that restless kid, who's like a stray dog... finally found a home?" she murmured to herself.
She saw Draven's inner confusion and search much earlier than most people. Now, hearing that he had found the girl who was rumored to have brought him peace, she felt a deep sense of relief.
"May the wolf spirit protect them," she whispered her blessing.
Instead of preparing an expensive gift, she wrote a short but sincere congratulatory letter and attached a pair of simple but high-quality amulets—items she had used on the battlefield years ago, symbolizing peace.
For her, that past has long since faded away; now it is simply the concern and relief of an elder for a lost junior who has finally found their way home.
For them, this wedding was a one-sided and brutal "reckoning".
Draven has publicly declared his complete break with the past. Whether they hate him, are relieved, or indifferent, they have to accept the fact that they have completely finished their roles in his life's script.
...
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Kree's furious roar could almost lift the roof off. He was surrounded by two trembling tailors, who were taking his measurements to make a "best man suit" that was too tight and restrictive for him.
"Why?! Why should I wear this sissy-looking rag to be some damn best man for that brat?!" He brandished his gun, scaring the tailor into backing away. "I'm a god of war on the battlefield! Not a bear dancing in a circus dress!"
Skal grumbled uneasily beside him, seemingly also uncomfortable with the smooth fabric covering his master's body.
After venting his frustrations, Kree, panting heavily, stared with one eye at the half-finished dress, as if he had suddenly remembered something.
He walked up to a huge, blood-stained, and dusty box, cursing, and began rummaging through it.
"Damn! You're lucky, kid!" he cursed as he rummaged through the pile of rusted weapons, teeth of unknown creatures, and several dud shells, finally pulling out a gemstone brooch wrapped in oilcloth, its ornate brilliance still undeniable. It was clearly a trophy he had stolen from some unfortunate nobleman or wealthy merchant.
He held the brooch up to the light, then looked at the tuxedo with disdain, and finally spat out a reluctance:
"Damn it, you little brat got off easy! Now that you're married, get the hell out of my sight and don't bother me and Skaar again!"
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