The "Imperial Merger"—or what the commoners of Oakhaven called a Royal Wedding—wasn't just a social event. In my world, a merger of this scale required months of due diligence, a fleet of lawyers, and a thousand signatures. Here, it required a mountain of white lilies, the blessing of the Sun God, and a dress that defied the laws of physics.
"Chancellor, the silk is ready," Sarah whispered, her hands trembling as she held up the garment I had spent three nights "Engineering."
It wasn't a traditional gown. It was a masterpiece of Oakhaven Iron-Silk™, dyed the color of a winter dawn—a pale, shimmering blue that shifted into silver with every movement. The bodice was structured like a high-fashion power suit, sleek and sharp, while the skirt flowed like liquid metal. It was a statement of "Imperial Authority" meets "Modern Elegance."
