Chapter 134: A Wedding

Chapter 134: A Wedding

"You have so many cousins! I've never heard of them!" little Clara exclaimed in amazement. "Are they blacksmiths like you? They all look so strong!"

Heinrich licked his lips nervously. "Yes, yes, they all are—uh—here for my wedding, and to pick up some blacksmithing skills while they're at it."

So Wilhelmina politely greeted the three cousins, and Heinrich also politely greeted Cousin Stella.

"Come on, cousins, today we'll practice quenching." Heinrich dropped his shovel and hustled the three cousins and the guests into the forge.

"I want to watch too!" Little Clara chased after them excitedly. Stella and Wilhelmina exchanged helpless glances, shrugged, and quickly followed the girl.

One cousin added a few chunks of coal to the furnace. Heinrich gripped an iron billet with tongs and thrust it deep into the flames. Another cousin pumped the bellows. The fire in the hearth surged instantly, and even from where she stood Stella could feel the heat washing over her.

Once the billet glowed red-hot, Heinrich transferred it to the anvil, and the third cousin picked up a hammer and began striking the iron repeatedly.

Clang—clang—clang—

The ringing hammer blows mingled with the crackling of the fire, echoing through the sweltering forge. The billet began to flatten, its curve taking shape. As its color dimmed, Heinrich grabbed it with the tongs and plunged it back into the flames, letting the blaze reheat it to a glowing red.

The second round of hammering began. Even Stella, who didn't know the first thing about blacksmithing, could see they were shaping a horseshoe.

Wilhelmina frowned, looking displeased, made an excuse about the heat, and went outside. Clara crouched before the anvil, chin propped on her hands, watching, mesmerized, the sparks flying from under the hammer.

The blacksmith swung the hammer with such force, as if pouring every ounce of his strength into the glowing metal.

"Heinrich! Why do you keep heating it and hitting it over and over?" the little girl asked. "Isn't it already done?"

The young blacksmith smiled and explained: "The fire and the hammering remove impurities from the iron, making the steel stronger and tougher. Real fine steel can only be forged through a thousand hammer blows."

Little Clara furrowed her brow, then it clicked, and she declared: "If you want him to turn out right, you've got to beat him."

"No!" Heinrich yelped.

The cousins burst into laughter.

"Heinrich, you'd better get yourself in shape before the wedding!"

"That way, when your wife starts swinging, you can run faster!"

The firelight turned the young blacksmith's face bright red.

Wilhelmina heard the ruckus, came in to check, and seeing the men were just joking, grabbed her sister. "Come on, let's go. Nothing interesting here."

"But I wanna keep watching!"

"Kids who look at fire too much pee the bed at night!"

"I'm ten! I don't pee the bed!"

Stella hurried after the sisters.

She could tell Wilhelmina was upset. Did she not like blacksmithing? Stella didn't know and didn't dare ask—they weren't close enough for her to pry.

Over the next few days, Stella stayed at the Kippers' place helping with the wedding prep. She told them how many flower baskets to set up at the venue ("Different numbers carry different meanings—seven baskets are the most common; seven is a magical number."), what dishes to serve at the feast ("One bird dish, one beast dish, and one fish dish, plus vegetables in three colors: green, white, and red."), and which direction the bride and groom should enter from, and how many steps each should take ("The man takes twenty steps, the woman twenty-five, and both must step onto the platform left foot first.").

The sheer number of customs and rules left the Kipper family flabbergasted. Mr. Kipper, when he learned he had to give a speech at the wedding and memorize a script, began to regret his decision. Mrs. Kapper needled him without mercy: "Serves you right for trying to keep up with the Joneses! Now you see what you've gotten yourself into!"

Still, they enjoyed it all anyway—the more troublesome the details, the more solemn and proper the occasion seemed.

A lot more outsiders had been passing through Greywater Village lately. The remote village had little to offer in the way of entertainment, and anything out of the ordinary drew a crowd.

On top of that, the harvest had come early this year. Farmers, afraid the army would wreck their fields, had harvested early before the crops were fully ripe. As a result, lots of idle folks from neighboring villages came to gawk, then went home with tall tales that kept them gossiping for the next three years.

Stella often spotted Holy Nation soldiers at the edge of the village. Greywater Village wasn't on their patrol route, so most of the time they just passed through warily, keeping their distance from the villagers.

Stella only saw a knight enter the village once, posting wanted posters everywhere.

The villagers pointed at the posters, confused. "What's this? Can you read it?"

"A wedding invitation. Didn't you get yours?"

The knight just glared at them.

The day before the wedding, Stella and the Wilhelmina sisters went to the nearby fields to pick flowers for the wedding baskets and the couple's flower crowns.

"Do flowers have meanings too?" Wilhelmina asked.

"Different flowers have different meanings. For example, red roses represent love, while yellow roses represent jealousy and heartbreak. Getting it wrong would be a disaster."

The autumn sun slanted low, painting the woods in layers of gold. Though the vegetation had begun to wither, wildflowers still bloomed in abundance. They weren't as precious or delicate as greenhouse flowers, but they possessed a vigorous, untamed vitality.

Following Stella's instructions, Wilhelmina gathered the flowers she needed. Little Clara ran wild through the fields like a runaway horse, returning covered in grass and dirt but carrying a full basket of blossoms.

Stella wove them together—sun chrysanthemums and lifeflower leaves symbolizing health and longevity, dotted with starfloss and firebells representing love, and grainspike orchids blessing the couple with many children, all strung together with purplethorn, the emblem of unwavering fidelity.

Wilhelmina held the magnificent crown, unable to put it down. She admired it for a while, then suddenly her face fell. Her shoulders drooped, and she let out a heavy sigh.

"What's wrong, Wilhelmina? Is something not to your liking?" Stella paused in weaving the second crown.

"It's nothing. I was just thinking... ah, maybe I'm overthinking it. About Heinrich."

She stared listlessly at the crown. Stella recalled that Wilhelmina had worn the same expression the day they visited the forge.

"Is Heinrich unkind to you?" she asked uneasily.

"No! He—he's certainly very kind and very considerate. But..."

Wilhelmina's voice dropped. She glanced around furtively, making sure only her sister and Stella were in the field, then whispered: "Stella, I'm only telling you this because I trust you're a good person. You must swear never to repeat what you hear!"

"I swear on the souls of my parents and brother." Stella didn't know what the girl was about to say, but swearing first was always safe. It wasn't as if she had anyone to tell anyway.

Wilhelmina clenched the crown, crushing several flowers in her grip. "Before you came, several young people in our village ran away. They claimed it was because of the poor harvest this year—that they went to the cities to earn money for their families—but they actually joined the resistance."

"The resistance!" Stella's heart jolted. "Against the Holy Nation?"

"Yes! People say someone is rallying a resistance army, planning to march back to Starfall City and liberate the capital. Many ambitious young people have left. I even asked Heinrich if he wanted to go—he's a blacksmith, and the resistance would surely need someone with his skills. But he refused, insisting on staying no matter what."

"I think... Heinrich's family and you are all in Greywater Village. He must have stayed for your sake."

Wilhelmina pursed her lips. "If only that were true, but... you remember the day Heinrich was making horseshoes, right?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that?"

"Those horseshoes were for the Holy Nation barracks nearby!" At the mention of the Holy Nation, a faint anger rose on the girl's face. "Their blacksmith couldn't keep up with the work, so they gave the job to Heinrich—he's the only blacksmith around. I thought Heinrich would refuse, but he agreed without hesitation!

"I argued with him about it. He said he took the work because they paid well, and that since the soldiers knew him, they wouldn't cause him trouble. I told him that even if we had to beg for food, we shouldn't work for the enemy!"

Wilhelmina got angrier as she spoke: "I'm thinking, could Heinrich be like that hateful Duke of Cold Mountain? Everyone curses the Duke for being heartless, betraying his family and country for the throne. Heinrich... could he be the same way...?"

As she talked, tears welled up in her big eyes. She dropped the flower crown, covered her face, and sobbed, "Stella, could I have misjudged him? Heinrich and I grew up together. I thought I knew him best—he's always been so brave, so kind. But... what if I'm wrong? What if Heinrich isn't the person I think he is?"

Stella felt a jumble of emotions and didn't know what to say. She was both glad that the people of Moltalia were still putting up a fight and worried about poor Wilhelmina.

This girl was getting married tomorrow. She ought to be the happiest person in the world, but instead she was worrying whether her future husband was a coward who bows and scrapes to the enemy.

Stella hugged Wilhelmina and comforted her, "Even if you don't trust Heinrich, you should trust your own instincts, Wilhelmina! You know him so well. If he were truly bad at heart, you would've caught on ages ago, right?

"I bet even if he's working for the Saintlanders, he's got no choice. He's only a humble blacksmith. If he refused them, they'd definitely give him a hard time, or even you. He did it for you."

Wilhelmina burst into loud sobs: "Then I'd rather he didn't do it for me!"

She cried for a long time before finally winding down to sniffles.

Stella gave her shoulder a pat and pressed the unfinished flower crown into her hands.

"You're just getting cold feet about the wedding, and it's making your mind run wild. Lots of people go through this. Once the wedding's over tomorrow, you'll feel better."

Stella picked the crushed flowers out of Wilhelmina's crown and wove in fresh ones. They worked until dusk and finally finished two gorgeous flower crowns.

Stella sent Little Clara to deliver one to Heinrich's house, while Wilhelmina kept the other. At tomorrow's ceremony, the bride and groom would exchange crowns—a wedding tradition all over Moltalia.

They headed back to the Kapper house together. Mrs. Kapper was already busy getting food ready. Though every villager would bring dishes to the wedding feast, the Kappers, as the hosts, had to put out a big spread so nobody would go home hungry.

The next day, Stella got up early and went with Mr. Kipper to set up the wedding site.

It was like even the heavens were blessing the couple—the weather was absolutely perfect. Mr. Kipper had the village boys haul tables from every house out to the open field and line them up in long rows. Stella set out the flower baskets she'd prepared on the tables and, with the village boys, set up twelve torches around the site. Twelve stood for the twelve months of the year, meaning the couple's love would last year after year.

Villagers showed up at the site carrying their own food. The wealthier families brought roast chicken and duck. The poorer ones brought bread or fruit. Even the poorest old widow in the village had gotten up at dawn to catch two fish.

Mrs. Kapper kept sending hot dishes out of her kitchen. The tables quickly filled up with all kinds of food. A bunch of kids stared longingly at the fragrant roast chicken while their mothers stood guard nearby, ready to whip any kid who dared grab food before it was time.

Mr. Kipper, meanwhile, hauled his homemade ale up from the cellar. Stella was amazed watching him haul barrel after barrel to the site.

"I thought the harvest was bad this year and nobody had any grain to spare," Stella said, eyeing the ale curiously. As far as she knew, you had to brew ale from grain.

Mr. Kipper chuckled. "Everyone's got a bit hidden away. That's just how us farmers are."

As the sun got higher, the crowd at the site grew bigger. People came from the nearby villages. Mr. Kipper had sent out proper invitations, so nobody dared slack off—everyone showed up in their best clothes.

A middle-aged guy with a goatee rode in on a donkey. Little Clara told Stella that was the miller, Mr. Kipper's archenemy.

He stroked his beard, giving the setup a critical once-over. At first he looked all smug, but soon his face fell. Mr. Kipper was beside himself with glee, strutting around the miller until the man's goatee shook with rage.

Tents were set up on both sides of the site. Before the ceremony, the bride and groom each waited in their own tent. After finishing her tasks at the venue, Stella went to find Wilhelmina. She lifted the tent flap and saw the bride, all dressed up, pacing nervously inside.

"Stella!" Wilhelmina cried out in relief and grabbed Stella's hand. "What do I do? I'm so nervous, like something's weighing on my chest. Should I really go through with this wedding? What if—what if..."

"Still worrying about Heinrich?"

Wilhelmina bit her lip and nodded.

Stella put her arms around her shoulders, careful not to mess up her dress or hair.

"Wilhelmina, I don't know Heinrich well—I've barely met him. But getting to know you these past days has taught me a lot about you. A kind person like you is sure to find happiness. You've got so many people in your corner. If that weren't true, then the world's just messed up!"

Wilhelmina's eyes got red, and she looked like she was about to cry again. Stella quickly dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief so her makeup wouldn't run.

"Your hair's a mess—let me fix it for you!" she said.

When the sun was straight overhead and all the guests had arrived, the wedding officially started.

They couldn't hire a real band, so Mr. Kipper got a shepherd from Sheep Village to play the flute. A bunch of young women sang local wedding songs to the simple tune.

To the sound of the flute and singing, the bride and groom walked in from the east and west sides. A bunch of men shoved Heinrich forward while women crowded around Wilhelmina. Each one held a flower crown and stepped up onto the wooden platform in time with the music.

Wilhelmina was feeling a lot better. Stella, along with her sister, her mother, and some distant relative from another village, helped her up from behind. She was glowing with joy, her carefully braided hair coiled into an intricate pattern, decorated with ribbons and flowers—Stella's handiwork after hours of effort.

The couple stood on the platform, and the old village chief, who'd been asked to officiate, hobbled up on his cane.

He cleared his throat and spoke in a high, singsong voice: "Today we've gathered to witness the joining of two people in love. They are Wilhelmina and Heinrich, fine young people of Greywater Village."

The old man squinted, trying to figure out which one was the groom and which was the bride.

"Wilhelmina! Do you take Heinrich to be your husband? Do you promise to honor him, cherish him, be patient and true to him, treat his family like your own, and stand by him in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, and never leave him?"

The young bride blushed and said, "I do."

The old man turned to the other person—since the bride was one of them, the other had to be the groom.

He asked the same question again, and Heinrich puffed out his chest and answered with gusto: "I do!"

A few people laughed, but the crowd quickly drowned it out with enthusiastic applause.

"If anyone here objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace—once the ceremony's done, no objections will count."

Heinrich's friends and family glared at the crowd, flexing their muscles, ready to beat down anyone who dared object. Strangely, his three cousins weren't there. Stella thought that was odd—were they getting the feast ready?

The old village chief waited a moment, then said, "Alright then, since no one objects, groom, put the crown on your bride's head. May your marriage bloom like flowers and bear plenty of fruit."

Heinrich stepped toward his bride, his face red, and placed the flower crown on her head.

The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles. The gorgeous crown went perfectly with her elegant outfit, and in her fitted gown, Wilhelmina looked like a fairy straight out of the woods.

Guests whispered in admiration, praising how beautiful the bride was, while some muttered that Heinrich had gotten insanely lucky.

The old village chief coughed loudly to get everyone to quiet down.

"Now, Wilhelmina, place the crown upon the groom's head. May your marriage—"

"Stop!"

A furious shout cut the old chief off.

The old man craned his neck and squinted to see what the commotion was below.

"Who? Who dares to object to this wedding? I said speak up early—objections now don't count! ...Hmm? Who are you? I've never seen you in the village before!"

The crowd split apart like ice breaking, not daring to breathe.

A squad of heavily armed Holy Nation soldiers stormed into the site. Leading them was a knight on horseback. He held a riding whip and raised his visor with his free hand, his sharp, cold hawk-like eyes sweeping over the crowd, silently intimidating everyone.

"Seize him!" he barked, pointing at Heinrich.