Today was a ceremonial visit to the settlement areas of the North, where the Duke and Duchess were expected to observe the lives of the people under their rule. A symbolic gesture of connection, respect, and responsibility.
Marcella stood in front of the full-length mirror in her chamber, clad in the Montclair duchess gown, ash-gray silk layered with embroidered threads of silver and storm blue. The high collar kissed the base of her throat. At her waist, a sash of dark velvet bore the Montclair crest: the crowned flame wrapped in serpents. This gown had been passed down through generations.
Her hair had been gathered into a formal twist at the nape of her neck. She looked every inch a Montclair bride.
The procession through the town began with the blast of horns and cheers. Townsfolk lined the cobbled streets in layers of wool and fur. Children perched on crates and shoulders, waving little flags bearing the Montclair crest. Old women tossed flower petals from balconies.
