The balmy breeze carried the fragrance of gardenias as it gently swept through the open terrace doors, while the distant chime of chapel bells resonated through the quaint coastal town. The time had finally arrived: the much-anticipated marriage ceremony of Magistrate D'Atra's son, a union destined to bridge the divide between East and West Ardania. The alliance between Jeaunan D'Atra and Tymarra Galad promised to herald a new era, uniting the two countries under their rule as king and queen. Excitement permeated the air, even within the lofty tower suite where the groom-to-be prepared himself.
Stepping onto the terrace, the young man surveyed the eager crowd that had gathered in the chapel courtyard below. In just ten minutes, he would embark on a horseback procession, amid the cheers and adoration of his people. While the spectacle was intimidating, he knew he had to grow accustomed to such grandeur as his future would be filled with similar scenes of ceremonies and adulation. With a thoughtful sigh, he turned back to the suite to don the white and red regal attire laid out on his bed. The emblem of West Ardania, a majestic phoenix rising from the ashes, was emblazoned across the chest of the extravagant robe. As he adorned himself with the kingly garments, a sense of finality washed over him—there was no turning back after this moment.
Oddly enough, the outfit, though intricate, was shockingly simple to put on; mainly because it was easily two or three sizes too large. The billowing bell sleeves draped over his hands instead of resting the wrists like normal. His collar that should've fitted snugly around his neck was so wide it nearly slid off his shoulder, haphazardly draping down one arm. Careful not to trip, he lifted the robe's fabric, resembling a playful debutante on her way down the stairs to meet her escort. Despite the comical proportions, he cast a glance at his reflection in the mirror and couldn't help but chuckle. He might not appear regal, but he knew just how to fix that.
With a theatrical flair, he swung open the nearby closet door, revealing the bound and gagged figure of Jeaunan D'Atra. The true son of the magistrate struggled fruitlessly against the tight restraints, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. However, the room's solitude rendered his cries unheard, and a tear escaped his eye as he resigned to his fate.
The small man before Jeaunan crouched down, a malevolent smile adorning his face. His outstretched index finger gently touched Jeaunan's forehead as he closed his eyes. A wave of disorientation and nausea engulfed the captive until darkness swallowed his vision, plunging him into a deep slumber.
In the shapeshifter's newfound form, the oversized attire now fit immaculately, perfectly replicating the future king's appearance. A knock at the suite's door signaled the orderly's arrival for the finishing touches. With the closet door closed, the shapeshifter welcomed the orderly into the room. With the servant's work completed, the groom and his entourage made their way to the back of the processional line, with a sense of triumph building within him. As he mounted the magnificent steed and gracefully passed through the jubilant crowd, a genuine smile adorned his face. Success was within reach. By the ceremony's end, The Order of the Light would have infiltrated the highest echelons of New Ardania's government, and their ascent to power would be unstoppable.
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