The great temple of the capital was truly a sight to behold. Normally already an awe-inspiring building, the decorations for the occasion of the royal wedding gave it an even deeper, more impressive atmosphere. The benches were filled to the last seat with the wedding guests, among them the royal family including all of King Baldwin’s twelve wives, nobility from all of Yteland – although nobles who weren’t part of the high nobility were only present with an explicit invitation – and ambassadors from foreign countries.

The empire had sent an ambassador for representation of the bride’s family. There was no way Myrtis’s uncle, Emperor Gennadios, would have come in person. That would’ve definitely been beneath his and the empire’s dignity. The empire was a very inward-looking and supercilious country that allowed others to witness its superiority at any given chance. It was the militarily and culturally most advanced country after all. The ambassador who had come, however, was more of a father figure for Myrtis than both her uncle and her late father ever had been. Bishop Euphrasios had long since been the Princess’s trusted mentor and the very person who openly encouraged her to indulge in her curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

The seat rows were strictly divided according to rank. The royal family sat the closest to the altar, as did Euphronios who represented the bride’s family. Then came the ducal house of Sulia, followed by the margravial Avallachs and the marquis houses. It was quite awkward for Violant to sit so close to her uncle Marquis Barnabas of Nussex and his family, mainly because Euphremia who was also present still wasn’t over Mortimer marrying another woman and she just had to make out Violant as the culprit behind this all. Uncle Barnabas and Aunt Georgina ignored their daughter’s conspiracy theories for now, keeping up the amiable relationship to the Avallachs they had always had.

Following the margrave and the marquises, the counts were next in the seating plan. Count Alphege of Wuldington and his wife Mildred were at the very front of the counts present, not owing to his rather meagre political influence but to the fact that their son Hubert was the vice-captain of the royal knight order. Hubert himself was elsewhere following through with his order-related duties.

Only after that came the lower nobility and whoever else was invited, filling up the remaining seats up to the last place.

The sound of fanfares announced the beginning of the wedding ceremony. Prince Edric stood already at the altar, waiting for his bride. Contrarily to his usual habits, today he only wore the finest garments, as it was fitting for a person of his standing and the occasion. The glasses that had become something like his signature feature sat on his nose like always though. The high priest of Yteland also stood there, ready to marry the engaged couple.

At that very moment the temple gates opened, allowing even more bright sunlight to enter the already colorfully light-stained temple with its large leaded windows.

Then the bride came in sight. Myrtis wore a bridal dress of the finest silk which was white but with a rim of Tyrian purple, signifying her affiliation to the reigning dynasty of the empire. Since her father was already dead, her uncle absent and her father-figure Bishop Euphronios not eligible for the task because of his standing, the father-in-law, King Baldwin himself, took on the task of escorting the bride to the altar. That was the highest act of appreciation a foreign (or even a domestic) bride of the royal family ever got in Yteish history.

Like everyone else, so Violant too was caught up in the grandeur of the moment. Breathlessly she witnessed the bride stepping up to the altar, Myrtis and Edric exchanging gazes which weren’t necessarily full of love – for both it remained a political marriage, especially since both hid the fresh sprouts of young love deep in their hears to not inconvenience their respective partner – but full of mutual sympathy and excitement nonetheless.

Then, the high priest began to speak. Although a man at a ripe old age, the dignified cleric had a voice capable of sounding through the whole temple.

“Edric of Yteland, do you swear to take Myrtis Porphyrina as your legal wife, to love her, to support her, and to respect her till death does part you? If you do, so answer with yes.”

“Yes, I do.” Edric answered with conviction.

“And now you, Myrtis Porphyrina, do you swear to take Edric of Yteland as your legal husband, to love him, to support him, and to respect him till death does part you? If you do, so answer with yes.”

“Yes, I do.” Myrtis also answered. She had made use of the year between the engagement and the actual wedding to master the language of the country she was going to live in for the rest of her life. Being the bright head that she was, she became rapidly proficient with the foreign language, and although she still didn’t manage to converse fluently all the time, it was enough for her to successfully communicate with her surroundings.

“Hence, with the blessing of the gods, I declare you husband and wife. The husband may now kiss his wife to seal this bond in the face of the gods.”

Following the high priest’s instruction, Prince Edric lifted the veil covering the face of his bride now turned wife and kissed her shortly on the lips. With this, the marriage became official, leading to loud applause and cheers echoing through the temple, sometimes punctuated with deeply touched sobbing. The origin of the sobs was Artostre, Myrtis’s panotian wet nurse who, although neither fully human nor of noble blood, had been allowed to witness the ceremony from the sidelines.

The elation quickly came to a halt though when shortly afterwards the temple gates were opened again, this time, however, by some extremely exhausted man in military uniform, shortly followed by another. The sudden appearance of those military messengers couldn’t signify anything good.

And so it was. As soon as both men relayed their messages personally to the king, His Majesty’s face visibly darkened.

Violant wondered what might have happened but it didn’t take long for rumors to make the round and soon all of Kingsborough knew about the happenings at the border on this originally joyful day.

Two of Yteland’s neighbors, the kingdom of Mérovie to the West and the grand duchy to the east, invaded the borders of Yteland at the same time. The marquis territories, among them the marquisates of Nussex and Serpantine, had to bear the full brunt of the invasion while their feudal lords were in Kingsborough to celebrate the wedding of Prince Edric.

The hostile attack came as a complete surprise since the borders of Yteland had been more or less peaceful since the end of the war with Mérovie four years ago, a peace which had been built upon the lost life of Crown Prince Rowland.

Officially Mérovie and the grand duchy had declared that their goal was to get rid of the sentient berserk in Yteland and the secret behind his sentiency since both were a threat to the general public. It was surely true that both countries feared the possibilities the presence of sentient berserks with their superhuman strength brought to warfare, especially so as Prince Wynkin had shortly returned from his first military campaign, a domestic one cleaning up a notorious group of bandits that had made trouble near the border to the grand duchy for a long time. Equally true, however, was also the fact that both invading countries long since had desired the territories of Yteland. Not that it had been any different the other way around.

Particularly hateful was the fact that both countries had explicitly chosen this joyful day to deliberately disgrace the royal family of Yteland, clearly not putting King Baldwin and his dynasty into their eyes. That was a clear breach of sophisticated conduct obviously chosen to intentionally shame the invaded country and lower their morale. The names of the two chief commanders of the invading armies, Duke Médard de Crêtou on the side of Mérovie and the Grand Duke Svyatoslav the Great personally on the side of the grand duchy, did one more thing to undermine morale. Both were known as resourceful and merciless warriors on the battlefield.

King Baldwin, as a matter of course, declared war on both Mérovie and the grand duchy on the very same day. The wedding celebrations which should have lasted for several days were cut short in face of this national crisis. The decision to do so came even from the newlyweds themselves. Of course there still was a wedding banquet – the food had already been prepared after all – but it ended up quite short and was characterized by a chastened general mood although chreers and gratulations were still toasted for the second Prince and his spouse.

The Avallachs returned to their territory the very next day. The margravial family hadn’t to deal with the defense of their country, at least not directly and not on the usual battlefields. They had to keep the other march safe. This otherworldly realm wasn’t exclusive to Yteland but spread over the whole known world, its exact appellation varying from country to country. As it wasn’t exactly under human control, the other march was a preferably targeted weak spot when invading another country. If the inhabitants of the other march could be won over for the invader’s cause, then the invaded country was already as good as lost. It was the task of the Avallachs to prevent this very scenario by all means.

What Violant’s role in this war would be, only the future would show. But regarding her previous experiences in the civil war of her last lifetime, it surely would be of importance.