by Kal Spriggs
Her eyes lit up, “Speaking of which...” she leaned in close and caught her Lord in a kiss. At first, he was caught off guard and barely responded. Yet as he caught up to her intent, she felt his hands slip around her and draw her close. The raw passion and need she felt there found its twin in herself, and for a moment she lost herself in the sensation.
She broke the kiss off and stepped back. The look of surprise on his face was quite satisfactory. “Now then, my Lord,” she said as she shed her dress and stepped out of it. She walked naked, enjoying the cool air on her skin as she strode towards the bedroom door. “I think you have important matters to attend to...”
***
Admiral Elias Wachter
The various gathered nobility looked rather splendid in their finery. Elias spotted dresses spun from Vendakar silks and Aoriel shimmercloth and heavy with cloth of gold, pearls, silver filigree, and even precious gems. The men, too, wore brightly-colored coats and tight breeches, most with their House crests sewn into the shoulders. Many of the men, too, wore swords upon their hips, but Elias would wager that more than a few noblewomen had daggers hidden beneath their ornate dresses.
And more than a few have daggers hidden in their every word, he thought, even as he caught a bit of whispered conversation from one woman to another. Women, in his opinion, could be far more dangerous than men.
Like a sea of flowers, the assembled nobility of Boir spun and danced in the Citadel's Grand Ballroom. He had heard several mention that the room had not been so occupied in anyone's living memory, quite the feat given the age of some of the attendants. The entire hall had flowers, streamers, and tables sprinkled among the attendees with crystal decanters of wine and ice sculptures, brought down from the mountains by barge and kept cold by devices from the Iron Wizards until the start of the event. Elias had heard that seized wealth and goods from Lord Hennings' estates and allies lands had paid for all of it.
Normally, a common-born officer like himself would never dream of attending such a function. However, given his connections with the host and hostess, he'd felt little surprise to receive the invitation, and even less when he noted the insistence that he bring his wife.
Speaking of which, he thought as he heard her throaty laugh. He felt a smile broaden on his face as he spotted her, at the center of a cluster of other women. Maria was not a stunning beauty, she was short and plump, with rosy cheeks. She was the center of his world, though, and his smile grew broader as he saw the looks of disapproval on the faces of the noblewomen nearby, more, he would guess from the fact that the commoners among them were enjoying themselves even more than the nobles.
He noticed Captain Gunnar and strode over to stand next to the younger man. He felt a bit of sadness as he noticed the lines in Gunnar's face. He wasn’t Starborn, so he would be lucky to see forty cycles. It pained Elias to think that he would likely mentor the man's grandchildren long after Gunnar himself left service.
Such is the way of things, he thought. His own family, long ago armsmen and guards to the Grand Duke's family, had Starborn blood, probably through a dalliance in ancient times. He was grateful for the opportunity that gave him to serve his Duchy even longer in good health.
And now my family guard the Grand Duke once more, he thought with pride as he saw his son Gervais at the Grand Duke's elbow.
“Having a good evening, Captain Gunnar?” Elias asked.
“Yes, sir,” Captain Gunnar responded. “Though, to be honest, I'm still a bit stunned at how it all turned out.” He gave a wave around at the massive chamber, “I mean, sir, who would have thought we would have ended up here?”
Elias's smile broadened a bit as he looked around. The glittering splendor of the assembled guests was impressive, but not nearly as much as the reason for their attendance. The Grand Ballroom was most often used for diplomatic or military functions and only rarely for occasions of state... and almost never for the purpose tonight.
Most Grand Dukes, being Starborn, reigned for decades, often having grown children upon taking the reins of power from their predecessors. It was rare for a situation like this to develop, where a Grand Duke was selected who would need to use the Grand Ballroom for such a function.
Even more rare, given the circumstances of an undeclared civil war with a small but powerful faction of nobility. Those who wanted to show their loyalty, or at least make a public show of it, were compelled to attend, even if they had avoided Grand Duke Tarken's appointment. That, after all, was a thing of formality and loyalty to a single man. This on the other hand, was about dynasties and bloodlines.
After all, what was a wedding but the formalized mixing of bloodlines?
With that thought, a sweeping medley of music came from the curtained side of the room and the crowd's conversation eased to silence, surprised by the odd beauty of the piece. Elias had no ear for music, but he could see many in the crowd lean in to the music, their attention totally caught.
As the musical piece reached a crescendo, the bride stepped through the curtains.
Elias felt no doubt that Siara Pall had planned it to the tiniest detail. Nor, as he heard the gasps of the crowd, did he doubt that she'd designed her own dress. It was the perfect mix of simplicity and ornate, in a way that made every noblewoman in the ballroom burn with envy. The sheer, white dress clung to her figure in a way that would scandalized the crowd in any other situation. The pristine white shimmercloth stood out against her dusky skin in a fashion that heightened her exotic beauty.
Elais felt an arm entwine with his and looked down to see Maria. His wife practically jiggled with excitement, “She's so beautiful!” she gushed, loud enough to reach the distant corners of the ballroom in the silence of Siara's entry.
Elias patted his wife's hand, his own smile broad as he could feel the collective despair from the noblewomen who had hoped to seize the Grand Duke for themselves. Indeed, Elias could see that Siara put them all to shame, with a wit to match her beauty. His hand rested on Maria's and Elias felt his own heart melt a bit, glad that the Grand Duke would have a woman bond like his own, not some loveless marriage of state.
The orchestra started up again, this time a more traditional wedding march. Normally the bride's father would walk her down the aisle, but Siara walked alone, proud and head up, every bit the barbarian princess.
Elias's gaze went to the Grand Duke, who simply wore his military uniform, his sword at his hip. The expression upon his face was that of a man completely smitten, and Elias felt his own eyes tear up as he remembered his own wedding day. From the squeeze on his arm, his wife's thoughts matched his own.
Siara stepped up next to Grand Duke Tarken and Elias watched as Hans Bacher came forward to officiate. The old scholar had a serious expression as he led them through the vows. He stumbled a bit as he asked their ancestors to bless the union, but Elias couldn't fault him for that. The traditional Boir blessing was a bit odd when one considered that Siara's ancestors were the enemies of their lands... and that only a few months earlier, her people had besieged the city.
But not Siara, Elias thought. There would be no doubt about her loyalties, not after how she had fended off an assassination attempt here in the Citadel. No one who knew her would doubt it, anyway, but after word spread about that... and about her romance with the Grand Duke, most of the commoners loved her and the sailors, Marines, and soldiers idolized her. She had saved the Grand Duke, armed with no more than a dagger and accused of treason... she had saved him when no one else could.
Hans Bacher managed to finish the formal oaths with no further stumbles and a moment later, the final part came, when he proclaimed them man and wife. Elias grinned as the Grand Duke tried for a chaste kiss, but his bride would have none of it as she pulled him in for a real kiss. He cheered along with the other common-born in the audience at that... just as they cheered the announcement of their matrimony.
His gaze went to the table near them, where a wizard's device rested. That device had been carefully exami
ned by the Iron Wizards, who had stated that it's only purpose was to send sound and images of its surroundings. What it would project, to the renegade Lord Admiral Hennings, was a union that he had helped to forge, a nation that was stronger than ever, and his enemies enjoying themselves, quite literally at his expense.
Enjoy the show, he thought with no little amount of spite at the man on the other end of the device, and know that this wedding is the beginning of the end for you.
***
Chapter V
King Simonel Greeneye
The Founding, The Eastwood
26th of Ravin, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering
King Simonel Greeneye took the hands of his bride and smiled as he met her blue eyes. She was dressed as a bride among his people, in a green dress designed to represent the spring and the fertility that went with it. Her curly blonde hair and pale skin would have stood out among his people, even if her short stature and curves had not already pointed her out as an outsider.
Yet she is an outsider no more, he thought, now she is as much one of us as anyone can be.
As a reminder of that fact, he saw energy glitter in her eyes, a visible manifestation of the powers she now wielded as the Enchantress. Even as he listened with half an ear to the wedding chant, his mind still struggled with that fact. Not so long ago, he had assumed that the woman he had come to love was dead, yet here she was, wearing the mantle of the most powerful magic user among his people.
Yet he worried how much of her remained. He knew, without doubt, that this was Amelia Tarken, a young noblewoman who he had come to love... but she was also the Enchantress. She was the focal point of the spirits of the Entraluri Mitsa and the creator and mistress of countless magical constructs and artifacts. He still didn't know how that knowledge and burden had changed her, or indeed, if it had changed her all along.
She seemed to sense his thoughts and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. She had a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes and his heart soared a bit as he noticed it. He worried over nothing, he realized. Whatever else she had become, she was still the woman who he had first met under the leaves of the Eastwood, a woman whose life he had saved and who had saved him.
The soft chanting of the bridal procession rose to a crescendo and Simonel started to lead her into the rhythm of the wedding dance. Under other circumstances, he might have felt some shock as she met his guidance with no hesitation. Yet tonight, more than ever, it was as if the spirits of his people guided her. Which they are, he realized as he saw ghostly forms manifest about them. At the edges of the Founding he heard some gasps of surprise, as the People of the Eastwood witnessed something that they had thought lost to them.
Simonel almost drew back from the spectral figures, but he could feel their good intentions. They were welcoming the new Enchantress and endorsing their union. From the heightened volume of the chanting, the rest of his people felt it too.
Amelia gave a cry of delight as two of the spirits lifted her into the air, so that while she danced through the movements, she walked upon empty air. With a shock, Simonel himself began to rise. He didn't miss a beat, thought, as he spun his bride into the next part of the wedding dance.
The cry of instruments joined in with the chanting and the Founding came to life, as hundreds more spirits joined those dancing with them, many joining in with the living dancers while others took up whooping dances through the air around Simonel and Amelia.
The display of power on hand was incredible. Not in all of Simonel's life had he seen the spirits so energized.
The third wheel of the dance came and as it did, a looming presence formed above them. Simonel felt a sense of dread and awe as he recognized Dzmoba Suliskvet, the very essence of Kalakhi Salvet Khis, the People of the Eastwood. Simonel's feet danced and he twirled Amelia, the sound of her merry laughter a backdrop for the silence that fell over the Founding. Below them, the assembled court had gone silent.
And then the spirits began to sing.
Simonel could not precisely say how he heard their song. It was something he felt in his heart as much as his ears, something that went beyond the mind and straight to his soul. The spirits' song was one of joy, of completion. This, he could feel, was something that they had wanted and waited for... and it had meanings beyond that that he couldn't fathom.
For just a moment, he could almost see what they saw in this wedding, a union, a forging of the two icons of his people, and for one brief moment, he almost felt he could understand their message.
Their song ended before he could understand it. As it did, Simonel and Amelia settled to the green grass of the Founding.
The soft glow of the ghostly forms began to fade, but not without one last parting gift. Simonel saw the grass around them blossom with Prince’s Pine, the flowers of the spring, well out of season in what was almost Ravin’s Day. As the flower's soft perfume reached up to them, Simonel pulled Amelia close to him and kissed her.
Had he felt anything less from her than the primal passion he himself felt, he would have paused, for in this area he had feared the most. Yet she met him with the same passionate need... and she understood what must happen.
For all of the People of the Eastwood, relationships were begun and ended with little formality. Yet for when two kindred spirits chose to marry, the custom was ironbound. The ceremony was not completed until they conjugated it before witnesses. For a wedding like this, it must be here, in the Founding, before all of his people... that no one doubted the true bond they had forged.
He had feared that the rape she had experienced, directed by her brother, would make her sensitive to this, so he had determined to control himself as much as possible, even as he felt his blood begin to rise. The rapid breathing from the audience and the sheer lust he felt, made his fingers tremble with the urge to tear her clothing from her.
Simonel's fingers traced the edges of her dress delicately, his fingers began to move skillfully, unfastening the ties that held it on her shoulders. Before he could get any further, he saw her eyes blaze with energy. A moment later, the shreds of their clothing exploded away from them. Before Simonel could so much as say a word, Amelia stepped in close to him and drew him into a deep embrace. “I need you... my husband,” she said, her voice raw with desire as she pulled him down on top of her in the bed of flowers.
Simonel was only too happy to oblige.
***
Enchantress Amelia Tarken, Queen of the Eastwood
Hours later, when the witnesses had left and only she and her new husband shared the cool evening of the Founding. Simonel held her close and she treasured the warmth of his body and the soft feel of his flesh against hers. She felt content, whole in a way she could not quite explain.
“Are you happy?” She asked in a low voice, not quite certain if Simonel was awake or not.
“Exceedingly so,” he said as he shifted against her and drew her even closer.
“I don't think anyone has ever seen a wedding quite like that in recent memory,” he said even as he kissed her shoulder.
She gave a throaty chuckle, “My love, no one has seen a wedding like that ever.” She could sense his confusion in his silence and she sighed and rolled over in his arms, so that he could see her face. She needed him to understand, which was hard because she didn't fully understand on a conscious level. For her, it was something felt as much as anything else.
“What our people saw, tonight, is something that has never before happened. It goes beyond mere physical signs and manifestations,” Amelia said gently. “There will be profound effects upon the People of the Eastwood.” She reached out a hand and gently stroked his face, “As deep as our love is, as much as that means to us, our marriage means far more to our people. To them, it is the merger of the Enchantress and their King, a joining of what was once two separate entities into a whole. It means all the more for the fact that we are both Sulisk Mneba.”
Simonel's eyes widened and he drew back a bit. She understood his shock. To b
e Sulisk Mneba was to be no longer entirely human and no one should feel entirely comfortable at the thought. Sulisk Mneba itself meant “formed of spirit” though its significance was something rather deeper. Like many titles in his people's tongue, it held many layers of meaning. In essence it meant that their souls had gained the ability to manipulate energy much like spirits themselves.
Those his people called Sulisk Mneba had always lived among the races of man. How they drew energy and the manner of their personalities often had profound effects on those other humans they encountered. Sometimes called Spirit Touched or Transcendent, many commonly came to be called gods, demons, devils, and elementals... though there were thousands of other names and terms for such things. Many had the ability to draw power from their followers... and others, most commonly those called demons by the other races, had the ability to consume the energy found in the human soul.
To be Sulisk Mneba was to be both blessed and cursed. Blessed in that they had the ability to protect and shelter their people... and cursed in that such powers all too often corrupted them. The rush of such power proved heady. All too often it could lead to the creation of inhuman monsters such as Kaliva and Shivenkaru of the Vendakar... or the petty deities who ruled over the distant continent of Aoriel and treated their followers like tokens in a game. Sulisk Mneba often became effectively immortal, with the ability to sustain themselves off of energy, they could heal themselves from almost any injury, resist any plague. Faced with effective immortality, the adoration and worship of followers, and the power to shape the world around them, few could avoid indulgences that led down a dark road.
