Red Wedding Part 1

Even from clear down the road, we could hear church bells ringing.

The streets of Oro Fantasma were flowing with well-dressed villagers hoping to just get anywhere near the cathedral. Infectious excitement spread from person to person, child to child, while security forces pushed back anybody without an invitation.

Tsukino and I strolled through the scene until arriving at a regal gate.

Two guards wearing police uniforms halted us. "Are you press?" they said.

"Yeah, one sec." I pulled out my ID badge before Tsukino did hers. The guards examined both with keen eyes until nodding.

Slowly, the metal gate slid open, squeaking like a bird that Trixie on my shoulder cutely imitated.

"Tweet, tweet, tweet! I'm so excited for this wedding!"

"We're not here as guests," I said. "We're gonna take some pictures and write articles to publicize things. That's it."

"And we'll likely be relayed into a corner where we can't see much," Tsukino added.

"Who cares, hehe! We're already right outside!"

Church bells rang as the cathedral loomed overhead. Massive, intricate, and beautiful, it was a work of art carved from prayer and limestone. Twin bell towers jutted high enough for me to have trouble seeing the tops, while a single spire behind them lent a gothic ambiance that commanded attention.

Huh. I've never actually been in a cathedral.

As we approached the tall wooden doors, another security checkpoint hassled us for ID's. Being official press, we could be admitted into the wedding without invitations, though with the caveat of not bothering important guests.

While I tucked my badge back in my trench coat, I heard someone hollering—a cowboy that was running straight towards us.

"Woah there, pardners! I knew I recognized y'all! Howdy!"

"Huh? Cowboy?" I smiled. "It's nice seeing you again!"

The wild-west man stopped short of tackling me with a hug. Just like when we first met yesterday, he was decked in generic cowboy apparel, and armed with a belt full of single-shot flintlocks.

"Yeehaw!" he said, before tipping his hat towards Tsukino. "Good seein' you too, miss! You're lookin' fine as ever! Hard believin' someone so pretty is so dangerous!"

Tsukino visibly cringed when she tried hiding behind me. But even I could tell she was glad to see him.

"Anyway," I said, "are you here for the wedding too, Cowboy?"

"Sorta! I'm workin' security here with these fellas!"

"Wait, security? I thought you were an NPC?"

He grinned to show yellow teeth. "It's true NPC's don't normally get put in combat jobs—but I volunteered!"

The revelation made me raise a brow, confused. Wouldn't someone want to avoid fighting? Why put yourself in danger? Not being forced into battle was one of the few positives being reborn as an NPC offered.

"He's mostly just idling," Tsukino beside me sighed. "With the ceasefire, there's not much to worry about with security jobs."

"Hey, miss!" Cowboy said. "Th-There can be danger! Maybe robbers and stuff! Yeah!"

"And how often do those come around?"

"Not much, bahaha! I'm mostly at this wedding 'cuzz there's a big shot attending I wanna see."

But before I could ask who, Trixie buzzed off my shoulder and went to sit on Cowboy's.

"Hey, hey," she teased him. "Is that 'big shot' one of the Heroes? Did you know I met two of them earlier? Did you know? Did you?"

"Ah! You mean Amila and Nuri?" he said. "I heard they already left town. Didn't get to see 'em!"

"Hehe. Maybe next time!"

Oh, that reminds me . . . I reached into my pocket and pulled out our Memory Stone. The clear rock had reverted into an unshaped mass. "How do you turn this back into a cube, Tsukino?"

She narrowed her eyes like I asked a dumb question. "Figure it out."

"Here, I'll help, pardner!" Cowboy ambled over and took the Stone from me. In a rare moment of seriousness, his face concentrated, focusing on the rock, until the item slowly became a cube. "Done! Here ya' go!"

"Thanks. How'd you do that though?"

"Easy! Just, erm, think real hard! Imagine your magic circuits pumpin' juice lickety-split! Even us NPCs can do that much!"

Well that's not very helpful. Whatever. I tucked the Stone in my pocket before glancing at Tsukino. "Should we head inside now?"

But she was distracted, staring hard at Cowboy as if he'd offended her. Then she pointed at him.

"What you just did was illegal."

"Wh-Wha'? What was?"

"Activating the Memory Stone. Unless someone has specific permission from the church, it's illegal interacting with anything crafted with alchemy."

His face went pale. "A-Aw, dang nabbit! You're right. Um, would ya' mind not telling anyone about this, miss? Haha . . ."

"Hmmm . . ." Her eyes bounced towards the security officers and guests around us, making sure none overheard. "Fine. What you do isn't my concern."

"Yeehaw! Much obliged!"

As Trixie flew back onto my shoulder, we readied ourselves to enter the cathedral. With no more security checkpoints, it'd be a straight trek through those enormous doors where well-dressed crowds were flowing.

"We'll head in now." I turned to give Cowboy one last thumbs up. "Thanks for helping me out—twice already."

"Shucks, pardner. Maybe we'll grab a drink after this wedding, haha!"

"Right. Take care."

This whole time, Tsukino had been tugging on my sleeve like an impatient child. "Let's go already."

"Geez, at least let me say goodbye."

"You did that yesterday."

"Yeah. It's good manners."

We kept bickering as we entered through the cathedral doors. Already the grand hall was packed with rows of benches overflowing with guests. All along the aisle I could smell hints of roses and melted candle wax where white petals covered the floor. Decorations were saintly. Even high up towards the vaulted ceiling were garlands and ribbons hanging like Christmas ornaments.

"Where do we sit?" I said, peering around.

On cue, a security guard walked up and directed us to a quarantined section full of journalists. We were outliers. Not one person greeted us as we shimmied between church benches and took a seat.

"Get comfy," Tsukino said. "The procession won't start for another while."

"Just let me know when we start taking pictures."

After only a minute, Trixie on my shoulder looked behind us. "Hey, who's that?"

"Huh? Who?"

Everyone in the cathedral stood respectfully at attention when a man marched through the front doors. His shadow was long, imposing, and intimidating. Even from here I could see his face covered in scars and cuts, eyes sharp from what echoed a lifetime of battle. He wore a white suit with a golden tie that matched a top hat glimmering bright.

"C-Count Duval!" the journalists around me said, excited. They whipped out their Memory Stones and began snapping pictures.

"Idiot! Take photos too!" Tsukino jabbed me.

"Ow! Okay, sorry." I stood and aimed my Stone when Count Duval began pacing down the aisle. He was escorted by a trifecta of powerful guards, each wearing glistening armor. Many guests bowed their heads over but he acknowledged no one; his stern face just grew sterner.

And as he passed by our row, a sudden breeze that'd entered the room billowed his cape in an epic fashion. He didn't even notice before taking a seat in the front row.

"So is that guy special?" I asked Tsukino.

"Like I said yesterday—he's a high-ranking noble. But he's also the father of today's bride."

"Maybe he's that big shot Cowboy wanted to meet."

"Whatever. Stay standing for when more important guests arrive."

"Sure."

Then for the next ten minutes, I snapped photos of everyone walking through the doors, until the groom himself waltzed in. He wore a black tuxedo and bowtie that matched those of his groomsmen. The whole group escorted him all the way to the altar where a pastor stood waiting.

Wonder how it'd be to get married, I thought. Just finding the right person must be tough—finding a strand of hay in a needlestack.

The whole room hushed. Far ahead, in the cathedral's loft, someone in a red cloak appeared, their face hidden. Step by slow step, the strange figure unwittingly commanded everyone's attention as they sat in front of a huge pipe organ and played.

Low, resonant booms. The entire hall echoed with gothic tunes. The pipes sung, the organist orchestrated, and the crowd listened. Even I was hypnotized by how those hands pounced on each key, and how each finger strummed invisible strings. We'd all become puppets just focused on that performance.

The huge doors behind us that'd been closed in our distraction opened. We all turned around and gazed at a woman in a brilliant white wedding dress flanked by flower girls and bridesmaids. Little girls tossed out roses from their baskets as the bride stepped forward.

The booming organ continued playing, now imitating gothic renditions of "Here Comes The Bride".

I watched on while the bride passed by, all the way to the altar where her groom was waiting. They spoke some words privately, smiling, almost close enough to kiss, before at last the organ ceased.

And the old pastor stepped forward.

He breathed in before speaking. "Dearly beloved, we are all gathered here today through blessings of our Nameless Goddess—our Goddess that protects us from evils across the sea. So let us all be witnesses for this holy matrimony in Her honor."

"Amen," the whole hall said.

It was hard for me to see towards the front row with everyone standing, but I spotted Count Duval removing his top hat. Audience members all sat after he did.

"Now," the pastor said to the bride and groom. "I will begin your ceremon—"

The huge organ up top bellowed. It was a quick burst of noise that deafened our ears and grabbed everyone's attention. We saw the organist with one of their hands laying on the keys, until they slowly lifted their fingers off.

"Owies. What was that?" Trixie by my ear said.

"Don't know. I have a bad feeling though."

The pastor shrugged the event off as if it were an accident. He opened his book to speak again when—

The pipe organ boomed again. This time everyone knew it was no accident.

Like a madman, the hooded organist began smashing keys at random. There was no rhyme, no reason, just discord and cacophony. The roars of the pipes were almost demonic cries.

Other guests tried covering their ears, while security guards stationed around became tense. No one could do anything except wait for sheer pandemonium to end.

But when the crazed organist relented, they'd already become everyone's focus of attention. We all watched while they removed their red cloak and skulked forward to address us from the loft—the cathedral's highest point inside.

"SALUTATIONS!" The young man showed neatly-combed white hair, and had a pearly suit that wouldn't look out of place at weddings. Everything about him was porcelain pale, except for both irises—eyes that couldn't hide a crimson rage even behind politeness.

The crowd was aghast. Whispers erupted asking who that strange man was, while others already harbored suspicions. Security guards grasped their swords and waited for orders.

"That guy up there is funny, hehe," Trixie said. "Is he part of the show?"

"This isn't a show," Tsukino beside me replied. "Something's not right."

Oh? I still couldn't shake a bad gut feeling. But all I could do for now was keep aiming my Memory Stone to photograph things.

The pale man above grinned. "Thank you all for coming today, truly. It is my honor having your attention on this perfect afternoon. Now if I may proclaim, my humble name is . . . White Swamp."

A woman in the crowd screamed. Others tried running for the exit. But with a snap of White Swamp's fingers, the imposing doors slammed shut. There was no escape.

"Now, now," he said. "Let's all be friends. With a name like mine though, I surmise it may be obvious what I am."

A single person in the front row stood to their feet. Tall and undeterred, Count Duval with crossed arms stared straight up at White Swamp.

"Demon," Duval said plainly. "Denizens of the demon continent all call themselves by an original name bestowed by their wicked goddess. But you are no ordinary demon."

White chuckled. "I'm elated to be recognized. Though I am just an old relic of war that's no longer needed."

Whisperings began rumbling through the crowd. I heard another journalist behind me talk to their partner.

"Th-That's really White Swamp!" he said. "He's so violent that even the demon king disowned him. Now no matter what White does, it wouldn't violate the ceasefire between both countries."

Well that's not very comforting. I still wasn't quite sure how much danger we were in. But then I felt Tsukino's pinch on my sleeve. She was nervous, trembling, as if asking me to protect her. It was the first time I'd seen her afraid.

Then White Swamp continued speaking. "Unfortunately, today I must voice how your unfair tariffs and trade embargoes are ruining my hometown. And the man responsible for that. Is. Right. There."

The audience stared as White pointed down directly at Count Duval. But the noble remained unflinching. Unafraid.

"Demons deserve to suffer," he said. "That's why I fought in the war myself. And asking the marquess to impose strict trade barriers, is the least amount of pain I can inflict during peace time."

White grinned wider than ever, flashing white teeth. "Count Duval the strategist—a former member of Sin Nombre's Shadow Cabal. You're a native-born resident of this country, which means your magical circuits are pathetic. You begged the church for permission to modify your body with alchemy so you could fight at all."

"I regret nothing. Except that I couldn't kill more of you before my group disbanded."

"Heh. You were actually considered the weakest in the Shadow Cabal, and always lived in vice-captain Kuroki's shadow. But neither he nor your precious Heroes are here to protect you anymore."

What? White Swamp knows Nuri and Amila already left town? Concern grew on my face. Does that mean there's no one here that can fight back?

But as the floor began shaking and people ran for their lives, everyone knew what was coming.

In a final stare down, White Swamp and Count Duval both grinned before red lightning crashed down and obliterated the whole cathedral.

Carnage commenced.