Chapter 133: Wedding Preparations

Chapter 133: Wedding Preparations

Stella sat at the low dining table. On the table sat black bread and a jug of milk. Flames danced in the fireplace, and a soup pot hung over the fire, steam rising from it.

Mrs. Kapper stirred the pot with a long-handled ladle. Mr. Kipper sat at the other end of the table, smoking his pipe. His youngest daughter crouched by the hearth, mesmerized by the rising steam. The eldest daughter stood behind her father, wringing her hands in embarrassment, as if her father had just done something shameful.

"Write a hundred letters?" Stella asked.

"Yes! A hundred!" Mr. Kipper declared loudly.

The eldest daughter flushed red. "Father! That's so much trouble for her! How embarrassing!"

"Didn't Lady Stella volunteer to write letters for us? Isn't that right, miss?" Mr. Kipper tapped his pipe against the table corner and tilted his chin toward Stella.

Stella let out an "uh" and looked back and forth between father and daughter. "May I ask what kind of letters they are?"

"My daughter Wilhelmina," Mr. Kipper gestured to his eldest, "is getting married next week. I want to do it up proper—make it grand. So I'm sending invitations to all our friends and relatives—I hear that's how respectable city folk do it."

"...So the hundred letters are invitations?"

Mrs. Kapper stopped stirring the soup and chided her husband, "Oh, come off it! Half your friends and relatives probably can't even read an invitation if their lives depended on it! Being able to write your own name and count to ten makes you a regular literary genius around here!"

Mr. Kipper slammed the table hard, making the black bread jump on the table. "So what? I'm sending them anyway!"

His wife rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, then gave Stella an apologetic smile. "My husband's got this thing about keeping up with the Joneses, you see. Last year when the miller's daughter got married, one of their city relatives came to help. That woman had been a maid for some noble family in Whitewatch, and she arranged the wedding the city way. Oh my, it was so fancy-schmancy! We country folk had never seen such extravagance! I nearly jumped out of my skin when the invitation came—thought some noble lady was tying the knot."

Mr. Kipper glared at his wife. She'd just aired his dirty laundry in front of a guest, and he was steaming.

"That old coot's relative was just a maid, and look how full of himself he is," he said grumpily. "But this Lady Stella here is from Sevenlamp City—a real scribe's daughter, from a proper bookish family. Wouldn't it be even more impressive to do our wedding the city way? That'll show that old goat!"

Wilhelmina shook her father by the arm. "Father, just do it the normal way!"

"No! How's our family any worse than his? My daughter's wedding's gotta be even grander!"

"The wedding's not for another week! Lady Stella's in a hurry to hit the road!"

Mr. Kipper turned to Stella. "Then why not stick around a few more days? I won't charge you—just help us get things ready."

Everyone else let out a collective sigh, helpless against the stubborn old mule.

Stella had the picture now. Mr. Kipper was locked in a pissing contest with the miller, even using his daughter's wedding to one-up him, refusing to lose face.

Stella had never been married herself, but she'd been to plenty of noble weddings in Starfall City and knew the drill well enough. Sticking around to help the Kappers put together the wedding might not be a bad idea.

Weddings would surely bring in friends and relatives from other villages, who'd then head back home afterward. If she could find someone from a village farther west to travel with, wouldn't that be safer? If they ran into a Holy Nation patrol on the road, at least there'd be strength in numbers.

"Writing the invitations is no problem," Stella said. "But you'll need to supply the paper and pens yourself."

Mr. Kipper was over the moon. "I'll go tomorrow—no, today, soon as the rain stops—to Whitewatch to buy 'em!"

"I'm a bit surprised, Mr. Kipper," Stella said. "In times like these, I'd've thought folks would put off weddings—at least till the war's over."

Mr. Kipper took a long drag on his pipe, blew out the smoke nice and slow, and grinned.

"Quite the opposite, Lady Stella," he said. "It's exactly because times are tough that we need weddings. They lift folks' spirits—they remind everyone that even in times like these, there's still hope."

*

Maybe heaven itself was blessing the soon-to-be-weds, 'cause the rain stopped less than an hour later. Mr. Kipper hummed a happy tune as he headed out the door.

Stella wanted to check out the wedding venue, but Mrs. Kapper said the roads outside were too muddy—better to wait till they dried out. So Stella decided to start with the bride-to-be instead.

"What hairstyle do you want for the big day, Wilhelmina?"

"Ah? Me?" Wilhelmina was startled. "Does it matter? Can't I just do a plain braid?"

"Of course it matters—different styles mean different things!" Stella explained. "For example, the 'Lady's Braid' is the most common, symbolizing elegance and dignity. The 'Grape Braid' stands for wisdom and smarts. There's also the popular 'Elf Braid,' done like elf hair, supposed to bring long life and beauty. Of course, it depends on which one suits you."

The three women were floored.

"Who knew there was so much to something as simple as braiding hair," Mrs. Kapper muttered. "My husband'll be tickled pink—he can show off to the miller again."

Wilhelmina blushed and asked Stella to try every style on her hair. She shared a bedroom with her little sister, and next to the bed was a small vanity with a beautifully carved mirror that looked out of place in the farmhouse. Wilhelmina said it was a gift from her fiancé Heinrich, the village blacksmith.

The minute Heinrich came up, the shy Wilhelmina lit up, chattering on about their story. Stella braided her hair while listening to the tale of their romance.

She was the daughter of the village's biggest farmer, and he was the blacksmith's son—childhood sweethearts who knew each other inside and out. Not just the two of them, but both families were delighted with the match. The villagers figured it'd be the strangest thing in the world if they didn't end up together.

Though Wilhelmina had told her father not to trouble Stella, Stella could tell the girl was secretly thrilled to have a "well-traveled city lady" putting together her fancy wedding.

"Oh my, I love every single one!" Wilhelmina exclaimed, looking at her reflection with its intricate braids. "I don't know how to choose! Which one do you think suits me?"

Stella thought for a moment. "Then let's go with the 'Queen's Braid' from earlier. You share a name with a queen of Moltalia, Wilhelmina."

"Really?" A look of surprise lit up the girl's sun-kissed face. "Was she a good queen?"

"Yes, she was renowned for her kindness and benevolence. She and her husband reigned for a long time and bore many children. She also used her dowry to build a grand theater. The Queen Wilhelmina Theater is still the most beautiful one in Starfall City to this day."

Wilhelmina could hardly believe it. "Have you actually been to Starfall City, Lady Stella? To our capital?"

In the tiny village of Graywater, many people had never set foot in Whitewatch in their entire lives. Someone who had been to distant Sevenlamp City could boast about it for ten years. But someone who had been to Starfall City—that was like a hero who had journeyed to the ends of the earth!

Stella's throat tightened. She had lived in Starfall City her whole life, yet now, mentioning the name of her birthplace felt as distant and foreign as another country.

"I went there once with my family when I was little," she said quietly.

"What's Starfall City like? I heard the streets are paved with silver, the rooftops are made of gems, and the harbor has more ships than the roads have carts—every one of them laden with gold. Is it true?"

Stella's gaze grew distant. In a voice as soft as a breeze, she said, "It's not that exaggerated. The buildings are made of stone, and the ships aren't more numerous than the carts. But... it is indeed the most beautiful city I have ever seen."

*

It was nearly dark when Mr. Kipper finally returned home. Mrs. Kapper complained about how slow he had been—everyone had already eaten dinner, and she would have to reheat the soup just for him.

"Not my fault! It was those Holy Nation soldiers!" Mr. Kipper plopped a bundle onto the table in frustration. "I was almost at the village when they stopped me for a search. I pass by that road every single day—they should know me by now—but they still interrogated me for ages, as if I were some highway bandit!"

"What did you do that looked suspicious?"

"Nothing! They searched everyone from top to bottom! A bunch of lunatics!"

"Keep your voice down!" Mrs. Kapper shoved a piece of black bread into her husband's mouth, successfully silencing his complaints.

Stella shifted uneasily on her stool. "Are there Holy Nation soldiers around here?"

Mrs. Kapper said, "Yes, miss. There's a garrison near our village. They're always hunting for the Griffin Legion—it's quite frightening."

Mr. Kipper's mouth was stuffed with bread, so he could only make muffled noises. His youngest daughter Clara struggled to pull the bread out for him.

"Hmph, ridiculous! As if we'd hide Griffin Legion soldiers under our beds. This village is so small—everyone knows what color underwear everyone else wears. How could a stranger go unnoticed?"

"Oh, but with the wedding coming up, strangers have been coming and going, haven't they? Heinrich's family has invited people too," Mrs. Kapper said. "By the way, Lady Stella, if anyone asks about your background, just say you're my niece from my side of the family, come to stay with us. That way no one will suspect anything."

Mr. Kipper brought out the paper, ink, and quills he had purchased. Stella recalled that noble wedding invitations she had seen were written in gold ink on special fragrant paper. Now she would have to make do with plain paper and ink. But for villagers who could barely read, this would be formal enough.

As for what to write on the invitations, the Kippers left the wording entirely up to Stella.

"For the miller's, make sure it's extra fancy. Let that old goat see something he's never seen before, huh!" Mr. Kipper still couldn't resist needling his old rival.

Stella spent one whole evening on ten invitations. The next day, she wrote all day and finally finished the hundred. Mr. Kipper, beaming with pride, took the invitations to distribute in neighboring villages. Naturally, every household in Greywater Village received one, and Mrs. Kapper had her two daughters deliver the rest and also took Stella to see the wedding venue.

Early in the morning, Stella set out with the two Kipper sisters. Greywater Village was small, and the wedding venue was just a clearing under the trees outside the village, where the villagers held weddings, funerals, gatherings, and festivals.

Stella asked about local wedding customs and found them similar to those in Starfall City. The bride and groom each prepared a flower garland. Surrounded by their own relatives, they entered the venue, placed the garlands on each other in front of the witness, and kissed—that officially made them married.

Noble weddings, however, were a whole different level of extravagant. The bride and groom's attire was specially designed, the wedding feast was prepared by renowned chefs, inviting a member of the royal family as witness was the ultimate status symbol, and the garlands were meticulously woven with the rarest flowers. Starfall City even had a fashion for winter weddings, as winter flowers only bloomed in greenhouses—a true mark of aristocratic wealth.

Weddings among the common folk were much simpler. Garlands were woven from wildflowers in the fields, the couple simply wore their best clothes, and the witness was a village elder. Someone as particular as Mr. Kipper was a rare breed indeed.

Little Clara hopped and skipped along, leading her sister and Stella as they visited households one by one.

"My sister's getting married! Papa sent me to deliver the invitations!"

Hearing the little girl say this, the villagers looked awed and reverent. Many washed their hands before daring to accept the invitation, as if it were a precious, fragile treasure.

Since most people couldn't read, Clara had to tell them the time and place out loud.

"Of course, of course—if one of the Kipper daughters is getting married, we'll certainly be there."

"Is there anything we can help with, Little Clara? Is your sister's wedding dress done yet?"

"Our family will bring our best dishes to the feast—my wife's spicy potatoes are known everywhere around here!"

In a small village like Greywater, a wedding came around only once every few years. Each wedding took the whole village to pull off. Every household pitched in—the strong cleared the venue, those skilled with needle and thread sewed new clothes for the couple. On the wedding day, each family brought food to the banquet.

A wedding was a celebration for the whole village. And since Mr. Kipper was a highly respected farmer in the village, the villagers went above and beyond. Perhaps that was why Mr. Kipper wanted to honor the helping villagers with the utmost courtesy.

By noon, the three of them had hit every house in the village and handed out all the invitations. Some villagers curiously pried into Stella's identity—strangers always stood out in a small village.

Whenever that happened, Little Clara would plant her hands on her hips, lift her chin, and say with her nose in the air, "This is our cousin Stella! She came all the way from Sevenlamp City for my sister's wedding! Way better than some cousin who used to be a maid, right?"

Hearing Little Clara say this, the villagers didn't question it further. After all, everyone for miles in every direction knew about the feud between Mr. Kipper and the miller. The miller's daughter's wedding was still the talk of the village. It made perfect sense that Mr. Kipper would invite a distant relative to one-up the miller. And besides, kids don't lie, right?

Wilhelmina's fiancé, Heinrich, lived on the east side of Greywater Village. Though young, Heinrich's craftsmanship was well known. His blacksmith shop served every village within twenty miles, so he was always busy.

When the three arrived at the blacksmith shop, nobody was there. They walked around the house and found four men in the backyard.

All of them were bare-chested, showing off their strong, lean muscles. Each carried an iron shovel, filling in a hole in the corner of the yard.

"Heinrich!" Wilhelmina called out.

The youngest of the four turned around with a start. He had short reddish-brown hair and a freckled face. Seeing who it was, the young man instantly relaxed.

Little Clara bounced over as if she had springs on her feet.

"Heinrich, what are you doing?" She stretched up on her tiptoes, trying to see into the pit.

The other three men exchanged glances and quickly tamped down the freshly filled pit with their shovels.

"Uh, a kitten died, so I was burying it." Heinrich leaned on his shovel, awkwardly kicking at the dirt, his eyes darting everywhere, busier than his feet.

"Poor kitten!" Clara pouted, looking sad.

"Y-yeah. So, what brings you here?" He finally got his eyes to behave and studied Stella, who was with the sisters. "And who might this young lady be?"

Clara planted her hands on her hips, lifted her chin, and declared proudly, "This is Cousin Stella! She came all the way from Sevenlamp City for the wedding!"

Wilhelmina also eyed the three strange men in the yard. "Who are these guys, Heinrich?"

The freckled young man looked nervous. "Uh, well, they're my distant cousins too. They heard I was getting married and came all the way for it."