Part One:

The Wedding Festival

Chapter One: Preparations

The sun rose slowly over the eastern shores, casting its light slowly across the land. Bright yellow-gold beams carved their way through the mists of the early spring in the valleys as they made their way to the capital. As the light lit upon the spires of the High Tower of the Imperial Palace, it was scattered in all directions, sending sparkling, glittering light into all corners of the city.

As the dawn struck, it brought into vision the gathered masses arrayed in the palace courtyard. For on this day, the courtyard was filled to bursting with throngs of merchants, scholars, and townsfolk from around the kingdom.

With the coming of the dawn, a cheer went up in the crowd. The Wedding Festival had begun.

* * *

Lydia was annoyed. No, annoyance didn’t really cover it. This went beyond annoyance. In fact, she was downright infuriated. “Get away and let me do it, damn you,” she barked at her handmaiden. She quickly regretted it. It really wasn’t the poor girl’s fault, she hadn’t been there three days yet, and already she was tasked with preparing her mistress for the Wedding Festival.

Lydia understood the reason to hold with the wedding customs. It was important to her subjects that certain things were said, certain oaths to protect the people retaken. But she just couldn’t figure out why on earth they expected her to get married. She’d never even met the man. Only three days ago, she had been going about the expected duties of the royal family: making public appearances and conferring with the Steward over new laws and taxes.

Then, two days ago fell her sixteenth birthday. By Carabellan law, she was now of marriageable age. Suddenly, the rules changed on her. Two days ago, a courier arrived from the port city of Nara. He brought with him a proposal from the duke, Lord Plagart.

And now, today, she was struggling to fit herself into one of her mother’s fine dresses to attend the afternoon festivities. The dress was quite loose on her, and her handmaiden Julia was doing a wonderful job of pinning it to her skin.

Drawing away from her handmaiden, she started putting pins in on her own. The flowing blue gown slowly shaped itself to her slim figure. It was a bit tight in the bust, with the neckline cut just low enough to show the upper curvature of her breasts.

“Thank goodness the neck isn’t more modest. I think I’d very well suffocate in it. I’m having a bit of trouble breathing as it is.” She glanced over at Julia to watch her attempt to stifle a laugh. Having pity on her, Lydia waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and granted permission. Julia chuckled out loud for a moment, and then went silent again.

With the dress properly fitted, Lydia stood up straight and extended her arms at her sides. Julia hurried to her mistress’ side and began to garnish her with jewelry. On the Princess’ wrists, she clasped gold bracelets. Her fingers came alive with the presence of rings bearing emeralds that shone so brightly that they almost outmatched Lydia’s shocking green eyes. Around her Lady’s neck, Julia placed a thick gold necklace that bore a brooch of the Royal Seal of Carabella. Lydia tossed her hair and the long, golden locks settled into place around the necklace, framing and supplementing it gently.

Everything else in its proper place, Lydia slipped into her fine shoes and began walking to the door. Julia flew past her in a rush to open the large oak door. The wind of her passing caused Lydia’s gown to flutter about her calves. She swallowed a comment about her lady-in-waiting’s grace and continued on.

* * *

The crowd erupted in a universal cheer as the Princess emerged from the castle. It was well past noon now, and the revelers had been enjoying all the fruits of the festival. Judging by the smell, some of them enjoyed it a little too much, she thought. Lydia strode forward and up the wooden stairs to the top of the courtyard’s speaking platform. Waiting for her there was her mother and Lord Elvoran. She curtsied properly, with exactly enough respect as was their due.

She then turned to the crowd before her and curtsied again, this time more deeply. The crowd went eerily silent for a moment, as they milled about trying to decide what to do about this shocking breach of protocol. A lone drunk sitting at a makeshift bar cart raised up his mug towards the stage and simply shouted “Hurrah!” The silence broken, the rest of the crowd immediately followed suit.

Lydia smiled a knowing smile at her people. Her people, not her subjects. She knew exactly what the expressions on the faces of her mother and the Steward were. They were, of course, a perfect calm serenity. Neither one was so poorly trained in the political ways as to break their masks in surprise. Inside, however, Lydia knew they were seething.

Both Lord Elvoran and her mother believed that those of royal blood were somehow granted a divine right to rule. They separated themselves from the common folk and counted themselves a better species. That is, of course, until it was time for her mother to have children. Nothing stopped her from ordering commoner men to come in from the fields to satisfy her need for children.

Lydia, on the other hand, believed that there was no difference between the highest lord and the lowest stable hand. As a young child, she became known far and wide for sneaking out of the castle to play with the girls and boys of the surrounding farms. Her only regret was that she could never play with the same children twice, because the guards would immediately find her there. Nevertheless, she had become the nation’s sweetheart: a daring mistress who saw things through eyes unclouded.

Unclouded, that is, except for when she was forced to sit through ceremonies like this one. Most of the time, she would simply sit in her cushioned chair and look attentively at a fixed point. Then she would be free to allow her mind to wander. Today, however, she found herself wanting to hear the stories again. Today, they were pertinent.

She took her seat by her mother, and waited patiently for Lord Elvoran to begin his speech.