Book 1 Chapter 8: The Wedding

Vero waited on his mistress, a bit more relaxed now that she was acting more like a lady, and less like a vicious warrior that had it out for him. Even that gel from that day was unapproachable. It was if her sadness had placed a barrier around her. But now, she was like one of the many Ladies he had served over the years. Of course, it probably helped that she was dressed form head to toe in her finery, a simple smile plastered on her face as the carriage was pulled towards the temple, the place where her wedding would be finalized. He inwardly sighed. They had made it, and he admitted that she had pulled through and managed to pass his instructions to make a passable Ulrikan. But that haunted training still hung over the mood. While others smiled and laughed, he only worried about her. Would she manage?

As the days had counted down, he had noted her demeanor change from sullen, to a bitter one, but at the end it had felt like resignation. He had an inkling as to what grieved his lady, but he was glad she was finished. At least for now. It meant less daggers near his face, and she had devoted less time to training with dangerous weapons.

He shook himself from his musings and concentrated on performing his duty as her attendant. He knew she would have to ascend the stair to the temple of the black wolf god, but he hoped that her insistence to have had the dress cinched at the front would be enough when she had to wear those uncomfortable shoes. They forced her agile feet into a stiff form and she already had trouble mounting the carriage. But that was not whilst everyone was watching her.

He gulped as he saw the steeple give way to a terrifying, yet majestic sight. A black yowlume statue protruded from the center at the base of the steeple dressed in with ivory robes. Around him, carved smoke frozen in a billow, formed a black wolf.

The black wolf god glared down at the passers, and his condescending attitude was equally impressed by the sheer staircase that lead to the open entrance. One hundred fifty two. That’s how many steps they would have to ascend to enter the chapel. A number the even Vero dreaded. And a number he was sure Ylva would count down.

The carriage stopped at the base and Vero quickly exited, holding a hand out to help lady Ylva down. She took it and he felt her grip, iron strong, as she somehow elegantly stepped off. That gave him a bit of hope as she began her climb, but on the eighty first step, he saw her dress get caught, and he quickly stopped her. He flicked his ears and she took his cue to look back at the crowd below. Whilst she did, he discreetly took a hold of her dress and pulled it loose before she could tumble. After waving to the audience, she began the climb again.

Vero began to wipe the sweat from his brow as she made it to the final step, but inwardly panicked as he heard a snap. The only kind of snap that could be produced from the shoes breaking, ever so slightly, but enough to cause her to pitch forwards. He tried to reach out, but felt a stiff breeze as something brushed past him. He held his gasp as he saw his master appear in front of Ylva, stopping her fall and straightening her up. She looked up at him, her eyes bewildered for a second, as if she hadn’t processed what had happened yet.

The master’s ears twitched in annoyance as his gold circlet, as he had forgone a crown, slipped around due to his quick movements. He resituated it as Ylva regained her composure.

The crowd below shouted and whistled, drawing their attention.

“Shall we give them one last farewell, my dear?” the master asked softly. Vero watched as Ylva sighed and the two waved back, garnering more cheers, before he whisked her into the chapel.

As was customary, only the lead priest, the couple, and ten witnesses, were allowed inside. Vero was not part of the group. However, the exit that his Ulrikan masters would leave by, was not the one they had entered. Vero knew that after much deliberation and discussion with the church, his master had secured a quiet leave, much to the dismay of the church as they loved the attention that having nobility married there brought. The show was not to his master’s liking, nor to his mistress’s liking. When he had notified her of the arrangement, she had seemed somewhat relieved by the news. However, this quiet finale, would work best if he had the crowd dispersed.

He flicked his ears to the nearby guards and the motion was passed to the ones below. They began the arduous work of dispersing the crowd whilst Vero quietly snuck around to the side. He signaled to one of the church priests who responded back, signifying that the process had begun.

Vero settled himself in, waiting till the audience had gone, with a few stragglers left, before having the coach be brought around to the side. The Temple had been situated on the top of a massive hill, and the side exit had been made to come near the top with a simple road leading to it. However simple it had been described, it could match the grandeur of the palace, one thing that always bothered Vero. It was times like this, where he gazed at the structure of the temple, that he begun to wonder what their intent and message was to the people by building such a large and grandiose structure. If it had been a visiting human or neighboring nobility, they could have easily mistaken this place with being the home of the royalty.

He understood that the palace, had been remodeled from the days of being a fortress, but the temple had not, and so they had made it stand out far more. It perturbed him, but not enough to warrant anything more than an eye-roll from him. Most things the church did seemed outlandish and overdone. Whatever symbolism they claimed to have incorporated, it hardly meant anything to him.

After rolling his eyes many times, he was signaled that the wedding was done and his master and his wife would be coming out soon. He signaled for the coach to come forwards and he agilely stepped forward to greet the Ulrikans.

The Master appeared, holding the hand of his wife. She seemed a bit, off. Though, even the master seemed, off, for lack of a better word. Vero shrugged. If he was to know about it, he would hear about it later. If not, he would only have his musings. He bowed, flicking his ears back in reverence, and difference. The Master flicked his tail in recognition, but also with a subtle cue to knock it off. Vero tipped his head and grinned. For this day alone he would be formal, if nothing for prying eyes. But truth be told, he liked these very formal occasions, if nothing to poke and prod his master. Inwardly, he sighed in relief. It would be enjoyable to be in his company today.

After getting Ylva inside, and then the Master, Vero climbed to the front, and with the coachmen, rode back to the palace via an old route, that had few interested persons watching.

Vero listened as best he could over the clatter of the wheels, but any conversation his Master attempted was met with silence. Eventually, his Master gave up, and Vero sighed. He only hoped this would work out. He recalled when his master had come back, enthused at having found Ylva. But he begun to wonder how long this would go on.

As they entered the palace, a few servants who had been awaiting their arrival, stood at the ready. Vero signaled to them and they responded, eager to be about their duties.

Ylva and the Master were whisked away to be changed into more colorful attire that would draw the eyes at the banquet tonight. Vero, obedient, followed Ylva, determined to make sure she recalled the tunes and steps to the dances that she would be required to dance with the Master to.

After doing what they could to disguise her feet so she wouldn't’ have to wear shoes for the dances, and no one would be the wiser about it. To this, Ylva had relented to having a longer front for her dress, but just a bit. After checking his mental list to include all the possible known locations for daggers, and that they hadn’t been armed, Vero relented and took her hand and guided her to the main hall.

Guests had already been arriving, some shortly after the wedding had started. It was customary for the bride to be a bit late, so the guests could see her in her finery. Or rather, it was a place to show off their wealth and status and shoo anyone who would get other ideas. Ylva hit all her cues remarkably well, garnering the attention of the Human lords and ladies, along with other dignitaries of the Yowlume provinces. As she came to be situated in her spot next to the Master, the highest ranking officials came forwards and began offering fealty and gifts to the couple.

The night wore on, and Vero could see that Ulrika Ylva was getting tired. He silently signaled to the musicians to start the music after this dignitary was finished, to hurry the procession onwards. He could see Ylva sigh as the music began and she took the Master’s hand.

The feast would begin whilst the couple started the first dance. Bartemaus was busy directing the staff as they brought out the food and drink. Vero wanted to help, but as both Bartemaus and the Master had said, it would be more prudent to attend to the needs and see to the comforts of the lady Ylva. Her tolerance for these things would be far subpar to others. At least in theory. Vero was rather impressed with her. She was either very good at hiding her discomfort, or she was used to these ceremonies somehow. He highly suspected that her training as an elite warrior had included measures to disguise whatever one could feel, wether that be torture, or pain from a wound.

Vero watched and then noticed that his Master seemed to be watching for something. He wondered what could be amiss. Subtly, the Master signaled with a twitch of his ear and a flick of his tail to meet them near the exit by the balcony. Vero inconspicuously made haste, noting that the master was talking to Ylva in quiet tones, quiet enough that he couldn’t make out much over the sound of the music.

Vero waited as the song ended and the Master twirled Ylva to stand next to him. They bowed graciously, with the applause of the audience. Vero looked about, noting some movements behind the pillars nearest him. He tensed. Thankfully the seats that the Master had declared would be for him and Ylva were close by, meaning no one would bat an eye as they came over. Before the couple could get close to him, a man stepped out form the shadows. Ylva’s hackles rose but instantly fell. Strangely the Master did not drop his hackles.

“Well, well. If it isn’t our lovely pair and honored Yowlumne this night. I’m flattered you saw me here,” the man said flatly before grinning.

“And if it isn’t master Jof,” the Master replied. “What a surprise that you decided to grace my wedding tonight. But isn’t there some fool that you need to be swindling again?” Vero could feel his disdain for the man. But as much as the name Jof rang bells, he couldn’t place his finger on why.

“I’m off tonight so I figured I would see how my old friend is doing,” Jof said holding his hands up as he shrugged. “Though the hostility leaves much to be desired. Besides you haven’t even introduced me to the lucky gal who caught your eye.” He eyed Ylva and she stared him down from behind her husband. She definitely didn’t seem to like this Jof, which Vero could understand. His gaze was more wolfish then most Yowlumne were in their wolf forms, and despite his hungry eyes directed at Ylva, Vero felt his skin crawl.

“Leave her alone Jof,” the Ulrika threatened. Jof looked at the Master with a bland expression of boredom.

“You certainly have to ruin all the fun now don’t you. Well then, I suppose that since I am not wanted here, I will be taking my leave,” he said giving a mock bow. He left, chuckling to himself. Vero approached the two as Ylva shifted. Vero wondered if she still had some dagger tucked away that she had just re-sheathed. Besides, that man seemed to be bad business. Despite being Human and probably weaker than the Master or the Lady Ylva, he was oddly comfortable attempting to terrorize Ylva. Speaking of Ylva, she had a gleam in her eyes that spoke volumes. Vero was sure that if she had a dagger in hand, she would have sent the man off with a warning shave, if not a scratch. A death would be unlikely, but knowing her skills, she could have easily killed him, had her training in decorum been in vain. Vero sighed, thanking whatever god was out there that he had the foresight to remove all her weapons just in case, but also that she seemed to recall the hours and days spent together.

The Master quickly pulled on Ylva’s hand as he continued towards the door. Vero motioned to the guards there and they opened the door. Before he could follow them, the Master had the doors closed behind him. Something definitely was off. The Master could want his privacy with his wife, but Vero had a suspicion that something else was bothering him. He walked to the side and left through the kitchens. He knew the gardens were outside that door, and he also knew the Master enjoyed being there when his nerves were on edge.

He slipped out, waving at a few of the other servants who noticed him. He dashed out the door, down some stairs and then began to walk up the sloped land.

When he caught sight of the Master he was guiding Ylva to a bench. “I suppose I have some questions to answer,” the Master said, albeit a bit hesitantly it seemed. Vero ducked behind some trees and listened intently. He felt that the Master would have called him out for eavesdropping, but at the same time, he was sure that the Master knew he was there. He had a bit of an uncanny way of knowing where he was.

Ylva nodded and remained silent. The Master rubbed his hand through his hair in an un royal-like manner and flipped his wolf-like ears back in the process. He sighed before he settled his eyes on the ground.

“I suppose I should begin somewhere,” he muttered softly. He didn’t say anything while he seemed to decide where to begin.

“How about why you chose me,” Ylva prompted. He looked at her in surprise but then relented.

“I suppose it’s as good a place to start as any,” he mumbled. He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You probably only remember that day that I challenged you and then had your commanding officer release you from duty so you could marry me,” he said flatly. Vero stiffened. He knew the Master was good at swordplay, but who had won? The Master seemed to have won, which Vero highly doubted. Ylva stared at him with that cold soft glare. She obviously remembered that, and did not like the memory.

“I don’t understand though. Why me?” she asked after some time. “I thought it was obvious.” She looked at him in confusion. “You really don’t know?”

“No,” she said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. This caused him to smile.

“My dear Ylva,” he said, smiling sweetly. “I don’t think you know my name.” She looked at him like he had lost his mind. Vero was confused. What could the Master’s name mean to her. Now that Vero thought about it, no one in the kingdom knew his name. To everyone he was the Ulrika, nothing more and nothing less. Vero raised an eyebrow in curiosity. More of his head poked around the trees as he watched their interaction.

“Names can be powerful my dear,” he said. “And mine you have heard before but did not realize it was me.” This caught her attention. She looked at him expectantly while he figured out how best to say his thoughts. “My name is Filtiarn,” he whispered. She looked at him in surprise before she hit him hard in the face. Vero flinched as he ducked. Never in all his interactions had she hit him, but she had the gall to hit the Master. He silently took note not to anger her. Surprisingly, Filtiarn, the Master chuckled weakly.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he said, rubbing his sore cheek. “Seems like you haven’t changed a bit.”

“I’ve gotten stronger,” she retorted, which caused a hearty laugh to usher from his mouth. Vero stared at the two, confused. The Master’s name obviously had meaning to Ylva, but it was lost on Vero.

“That you have,” he responded. She smirked and in an instance the barrier that was between them dissolved. Instead it was if they had become companions like the ones Vero saw in the barracks. He saw Ylva relax and even a small smile flittered across her face. Filtiarn had her sit and he stroked her hair lovingly while he muttered his apologies to her. After listening to them, she leaned into him.

It had been quite some time and Vero thought it would be best to leave the couple be, but as he shuffled off Ylva shot upright at the sound. Filtiarn placed his hand on her shoulder as he tried to calm her.

“Vero, come out now,” he said. Vero scratched his chin in embarrassment. He had wanted to leave them alone in their moment, but had failed to sneak away. He began to wish he could move as silently as Ylva then.

“I’m sorry Master, I didn’t mean to intrude on anything,” Vero said politely.

“Not at all Vero,” Filtiarn replied. “What is it that you wanted?” Vero could feel the warmth that exuded off his master, and it was stark contrast to Ylva, building cold fury.

“Nothing M’lord,” Vero quickly said, beginning to excuse himself. “Simply checking on m’lady.” Filtiarn smiled and grabbed Ylva’s hand.

“Actually Vero, I have a request for you,” Filtiarn said sternly. Vero snapped to attention. “I’ve noticed Ylva here has been getting a bit lazy and plump.” He said and she scoffed at it before poking him in the ribs.

“You’re the lazy one,” she muttered. He laughed.

“Therefore, I want you to train under her and keep her busy,” he said. Vero felt all the blood drain from his face. He was to do what? As he regained his composure, he realized the subtle hint. Though the Master was newly wed, he had business outside at the other provinces and would be leaving Ylva here alone. Despite the obvious that his revelation to Ylva had smoothed their relationship, Vero doubted that she would take this very well. Was being trained really the best way to keep her occupied? He would wait on her, but train under her? Sure he wanted some of her skills, but not by her instruction. And he was sure she would needle him for all the times he made her squirm under his tutelage. Besides, he had no idea her temperament if the Master left her here, alone. He certainly knew it would be impossible to have her in the barracks, training with the others. He debated in his head long enough that Ylva growled.

Filtiarn stood in between the two.

“Please don’t order me too,” she whispered. Vero was a bit shocked by that response.

“I’m not ordering you to my dear Ylva, I’m asking. So will you do this favor for me?” He asked.

“Like that spineless kid could withstand any training,” she muttered. Vero wondered if he was really as bad as she envisioned. He felt a desire to prove himself to both his Master and Ylva. While combat was not his thing, he knew his master would only ask if it was for the benefit of both. Filtiarn rubbed her head between her ears and she shook him off.

“Fine,” she said, folding her arms and walking around FIltiarn. She stared at Vero and he could tell she was looking at him differently than he had ever felt. It was like being watched by a predator, or rather a drill master who knew that he would whip him into shape. It was an odd sensation and it made Vero’s fur stand on end. She smirked and Vero wished he hadn’t eavesdropped on them.