Chapter 15

Valemonde, Lynese

The Lynesian palace was impressive. William had to give it to them. He’d always thought the palace at Starhaven was extraordinary, but it paled in comparison to what the Lynesians had created. Where Starhaven had stone lined with tapestries, statues, and art, here every part of the wall itself was art; the stone was covered with some kind of plaster material that had been carved and painted to make long, intricate patterns. Even the molding on the floor and ceiling were finely carved and painted. The whole hall almost glittered.

He’d only seen inside the large hall beyond the doors where he and Pembroke waited for a moment, but it made the hallway look like ... a hallway. It was an impressive display, which was probably the point of it.

William was trying to be calm. He’d agreed to this marriage to end the war, but now that the moment was here, he was nervous.

“It’s amazing he managed to schedule this for Baudric’s day,” William said, noting that the date was a Lynesian holiday that celebrated his ancestors’ establishment of their dynasty and the Lynesian Empire as a whole.

“The man never stops plotting. Everything he does is a strategy. He’s reminding us of his lineage, no doubt.”

William gave a small laugh. “No doubt. Has he followed through on his promises, at least? I’d hate to go through all this only to find out that we’ve been played as fools.”

“He has, Your Highness. The money to pay for reparations has been loaded on the ship, and our scouts report their men have ceased probing our lines and stood down as agreed.”

“With as easily as he put that amount together, he could probably have paid more.”

“Probably, but we took what we could get, and Rendalia is the big prize. The gold is more of a statement than anything else. Although it will go a long way to helping those deserving when you get it back home.”

William looked at Pembroke. They both knew what that meant. He was sure that his father, when he heard about the payments, would be planning how to benefit from it. He would be furious when he found that William was planning to take it to Aldric, instead.

“Good. Once this nonsense is done, I’ll take half our forces, Alistair and Drummond’s men most likely, board the ships here in Dawnstar Lake and sail for Rendalia immediately.”

“That will be a tight fit. The rest of the ships are still patrolling the northern coast and supplying Talabot. We could pull those ships, but if Baudric were to...”

“No, if we pull out too fast, Baudric may try to take advantage of it. We need to do this right. I’ll take the ships we have here and pack them as full as we can manage. We’ll make for Rendalia City, resupply there, then sail straight for River Mark.”

“Are you sure that’s the right call?”

“Yes. Alistair’s from Iron Keep, and Drummond is one of Aldric’s sworn men. They’ll stay true. The war here is over, but it’s just beginning at home. Aldric will need every sword we can muster.”

“And your father?”

They had only spoken about his father and William’s own loyalties a few times, and those had all been theoretical. Tonight, William and his chosen men would board ships and sail to fight against his father. It was no longer theoretical.

“I know where my loyalties lie,” he said, holding the baron’s gaze, which Pembroke answered with a nod. “I’m leaving you to handle the withdrawal. Pull our lines back to Rendalia; establish outposts to hold the province until we can fully integrate it into the kingdom. Once that’s done, leave a garrison to hold Rendalia and move the rest, as many as you can manage, to Rendalia City, and be ready to follow us.”

“We’ll be ready,” Pembroke said.

William patted him on the shoulder, a gesture normally done by the older baron to William. The reversal was not lost on Pembroke, who smiled at it. As if that were a cue, the sound of organ music began to float from beyond the closed doors.

“It seems to be time, my prince,” Pembroke said.

William steeled himself and stepped forward as the massive doors swung open, revealing the grand hall beyond. Drummond, who’d been waiting inside, fell in step with Pembroke, behind William.

Across the hall, Isolde appeared with her retinue. Her father, Emperor Baudric, was beside her with her siblings following close behind. Compared to all the elaborate dress of her father, her siblings, and the nobles filling the hall, her dress was fairly simple: white with red and black highlights, the colors of her house. Based on what William knew of Isolde from their talks, he was fairly certain the simpler dress was her idea. It was certainly her style.

Acolytes in flowing robes of white and gold led the way down the aisle. At the far end of the hall, the head elder waited before an ornate altar.

As they reached him, the elder lifted his arms, raising his voice to carry clearly through the hall. “We gather here today, under the watchful eyes of the Ancients, to join these two in marriage. May their union bring wisdom, strength, and lasting peace to our kingdoms. Let us pray to the Ancients, beseeching their protection and guidance for this couple and the realms they represent.”

William and Isolde turned to face each other, looking into each other’s eyes as the elder prayed.

“Revered Ancestors, guardians of wisdom and keepers of the old ways, we humbly beseech your presence and blessing upon this union. As in ages past, when your power shaped the very foundations of our world, we ask that you now shape the bond between William and Isolde. Grant them the strength of the earth, that their union may stand firm against all trials. Bestow upon them the clarity of the waters, that they may see clearly the path they must walk together. Imbue them with the passion of fire, that their love for each other and their peoples may burn bright and true. And bless them with the freedom of the air, that their spirits may forever soar above the difficulties and pain of this world. May this marriage not only bring joy to William and Isolde, but also usher in an era of peace and prosperity for the kingdoms of Sidor and Lynese. We ask this in reverence and humility, honoring the legacy you have bestowed upon us. So it was in the time of magic, so may it be now.”

“So may it be,” the crowd repeated.

The prayer finished, the elder lowered his arms and looked to William and then Isolde. “William Whitton and Isolde Montborne, speak now your vows before the Ancients and these witnesses.”

William reached out and took Isolde’s hands, looking into her eyes as he spoke the words. “I, William Whitton, take you, Isolde Montborne, as my wife. I pledge my protection and strength to you, to be held in faith of the old ways as taught by the Ancients. In truth. In humility. In service.”

As he finished, Isolde said, “I, Isolde Montborne, take you, William Whitton, as my husband. I pledge my loyalty and obedience to you, to be held in faith of the old ways as taught by the Ancients. In truth. In humility. In service.”

They were the old words, spoken since people could remember the ceremonies of the Ancients. Speaking them out loud made thoughts of alliances and machinations fade, as the reality of the situation took hold. William feared and loved the Ancients, as any follower of the true faith did. He believed in their power and that they saw everything. He also knew that, in speaking these words, he was bound to her, not in convenience or practicality, but in the eyes of their ancestors.

It was a heavy thought.

The elder waved a young man holding a velvet cushion forward. Sitting in the center of it were two dark rings, so dark William at first thought they were black instead of a deep gray. It was an interesting choice, since most rings for marriage were made of precious metals. In silvers and grays. It took a moment for him to realize that this was not just normal metal, mined and forged into this shape. The rings had the telltale markings of the metal forged by the Ancients, before the end of magic.

He could see more recent forging, as if the extremely hard metal had been shaped and sized by modern smiths, but the metal itself was old. Older than any society known. Such items were priceless, a pointed reminder sent by Baudric, reminding them of his power and influence.

The man never stopped his scheming.

As William slipped one of the rings onto Isolde’s finger, he spoke softly. “With this ring, I bind my fate to yours.”

Isolde did the same, her touch gentle as she placed the ring on his finger. “With this ring, I bind my fate to yours.”

They held their hands together after they each wore the ring. The elder produced a length of cloudmoth silk and wove it around their hands, gently binding them together.

“By the power vested in me by the Ancients, I declare this union blessed and sanctified,” the elder proclaimed. “May your lives be filled with wisdom, prosperity, and the eternal guidance of those who came before.”

William leaned forward, as tradition dictated, his lips meeting Isolde’s in a chaste but sincere kiss.

They didn’t stay long after the end of the ceremony, boarding ships that evening along with as many men as William could cram aboard them and sailing up the Lysmir River to the open sea, toward Rendalia.

The wind was low forcing them to stop several times along the way, making the trip take three full days, reaching Rendalia City in the early morning. As soon as they were in the city and William arranged for rooms in the keep from where Commander Maston had been running the city, William was off again, spending the entire day in the city, getting things ready for the next voyage.

It wasn’t until mid-evening that William trudged back up the stairs of Rendalia Keep, finally able to take a break. Their rooms were small, although a sight better than the cramped ship cabin they’d had aboard ship. He could have taken Commander Maston’s larger rooms, the ones used by the province’s previous viceroy, but he was only planning on being here the one day, and sailing in the morning, so this would do.

Besides, it was a step above what he’d been dealing with for most of the past year in the field, living in tents. It was more of a hardship for Isolde who, in spite of her love for the lower born, had never spent a day outside of abject luxury.

Thankfully, she’d borne the tribulations well, never complaining. She’d even started to circulate among the men, talking to them as she did with her own soldiers. It was an admirable trait.

It was full dark outside, and the rooms were lit with the soft glow of candlelight, being too warm to have a fire going. Isolde, seated on a plush couch, looked up from her needlework when he came through the door, giving him a warm smile, reminding him again that, as dynastic marriages went, he had gotten very lucky. Considering their hasty departure, there hadn’t been an opportunity to spend a lot of time together since the wedding, but what time they’d spent together had been pleasant.