Chapter 1123: Chapter 1: The Wedding_4
Pierre dressed in his finest attire, leading his companions, and drove a carriage to bring the equally finely dressed bride from Old Sergei’s house—Old Sergei had volunteered his ho to serve as the bride’s family house—back to Mitchell Manor, thus completing the wedding procession.
The next step was an indispensable part of any celebration, big or small—a grand feast.
However, since Mitchell Manor had been “ransacked” by soone, it no longer had the capacity to host a lavish banquet.
Even without Gerard and Eileen having to ask, the people of Dusa Village dug out the grain stored deep in their cellars, herded the cattle and sheep hiding in the wild, and sent them in large carts to Mitchell Manor.
Butchering livestock, grinding flour, baking pastries… The n and won of Dusa Village naturally joined in the wedding preparations, bustling together to host the event.
It wasn’t just the Dusans; people from other villages and even nearby towns, upon hearing that Mr. Mitchell was getting married, traveled long distances to bring their gifts. Not wanting to burden the Mitchell family, many, after offering their gifts and congratulations in person, quietly departed on the long road back ho without staying for the feast.
Even hunters from the depths of the forest arrived at Mitchell Manor, dust-covered, bringing their finest pelts and venison—Winters and Gerard had no idea where these people even got the news.
In a corner of the wedding venue, a group of Dusan lads huddled together, conspiring about sothing.
A mont later, Anglu—the forr stable boy and now a cavalry captain—approached Winters, carrying a massive horn cup, flanked by a boisterous throng of Dusans.
The horn cup was brimming with a clear liquid, almost spilling over.
“Why are you joining this nonsense?” Winters said with a helpless laugh, “I can’t drink today.”
“The finest drink for the most honored guest!” Anglu shouted with a grin, “Centurion! Please accept this toast!”
Anglu’s exclamation drew the attention of everyone at the wedding; people gathered around, flocking to the long table where Winters sat.
The n began pounding the table or stomping their feet in unison. The won stared curiously at the young, valiant Civil Guard Officer.
The bride and groom also ca over, Pierre and his wife holding hands, looking at Winters with eager anticipation.
Even Old Sergei, who had been shielding Winters from drink all evening, did not step in this ti.
“Sir,” Old Sergei whispered, “you must drink this cup—this is the most important toast, and it is yours and yours alone.”
Winters reluctantly took the horn cup.
“You have to down it in one go,” Old Sergei discreetly added behind him.
“Drink! Drink!…” The crowd around Winters began singing a Dusan drinking song: “Honored guest…”
Anna hid among the crowd, covering her mouth as she chuckled. Beside her, Bard clapped enthusiastically, unusually showing both mischief and schadenfreude.
Feeling the intense gazes focused on him, Winters looked at the overflowing liquor in his cup. He paused, raised his head, and gave a knowing look to the people, who, after enduring nurous hardships, could finally laugh freely again.
“I only know one Dusan proverb,” Winters said with a sincere smile, “but I feel that it’s especially fitting today.” He spoke slowly: “Gold is tempered by fire, good n are tempered by gold, and n… are tempered by won.”
He turned to Pierre and the bride. “Mr. Mitchell, Mrs. Mitchell, blessings to you both! Blessings to everyone here! Let us hope that, one day, we may all enjoy lasting peace, prosperity, and tranquility!”
With that, Winters took a deep breath and lifted the horn cup, pouring its contents down his throat.
The musicians struck up a lively tune, and by sheer force of will, Winters managed to down the entire great horn filled with the potent liquor.
Then, he climbed onto a bench, raised his arm high, and displayed the empty horn to the crowd.
The people surrounding Winters, both n and won, burst into jubilant cheers.
“Alright, alright! Let the Civil Guard Officer have a mont to rest,” Old Sergei interjected, dispersing the crowd to allow the wedding to resu its earlier vibe. “Anyone else who wants to toast him, co see instead!”
The crowd dispersed like a school of fish, returning to their revelry, drinking, dancing, and playful banter.
Winters returned to his seat, hands propped on his knees, head hanging down—his stomach churning violently.
Anna threaded her way through the crowd and stood by Winters, placing her hand gently on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” she asked with concern.
The re touch of Lady Navarre’s fingers proved too much for Winters in his debilitated state, and he imdiately leaned over and vomited.
“Have so water, have so water,” Old Sergei hurried over with a water jug, patting Winters on the back. The old Dusan marveled, “You truly are a tough man to have actually downed it all in one go.”
At the end, the old Dusan sheepishly added in a low whisper, “Actually, if you mastered a certain technique, you could have spilled half of it.”
Bard, who was supporting Winters by the shoulder, roared with laughter.
Winters rinsed his mouth, emptied the remaining water from the jug, exhaled deeply, and, bracing his knees, stood up, addressing those around him, “I must be on my way.”
Bard quickly stifled his laughter and gave a solemn nod. “I’ll take care of things here.”
Fully ard, Vashka approached, holding Winters’ saber.
Winters took the saber from Vashka. Just as he was about to fasten it to his belt, a pair of slender, delicate hands took over for him.
Without a word, Anna secured the weapon at his waist and tucked in his clothing ticulously. “Co back safely,” she said softly.
Winters nodded, waved his hand, and said, “Let’s go.”
With that, he led his guards toward the manor gates. As he passed the long table at the wedding venue, he casually patted the shoulder of a lanky man in military garb, sitting alone at the end of the table, silently drinking. “Ti to head out,” he said.
“Alright,” the lanky man stood up, spat unapologetically, and, staring at Winters provocatively, sneered, “I saw you puke pretty bad. Are you still up for it?”
“I’m fine,” Winters responded sharply, “But you? You’ve been drinking nonstop. Are you still up for it, Colonel Seber?”
Colonel Seber Carrington, fad in the Paratu army for his fearlessness bordering on madness, smiled grimly, his wolf-like teeth glinting. “I could drink twice as much as you and still be fine.”
“Then let’s go.”
With that, Winters led the way out of the manor gates.
He left Mitchell Manor, riding along the main road toward the center of Wolf Town. From there, he crossed the river, took a trail through the forest, and continued northwest, riding all the way to the banks of the Big Horn River.
A camp nestled between the forest and the river ca into view, alongside a newly constructed floating bridge.
Outside the camp, a thousand-strong force of lightly armored cavalry stood ready.
Among the soldiers were battle-hardened veteran Dusans, youths forged in the fires of the Battle of Bloody Clay, and a small group of sergeants recruited from freed prisoners.
Facing his carefully selected elite troops, Winters had no need for lengthy explanations.
He spurred his horse onto a high platform beside the camp, scanning the soldiers standing silently at attention. He raised his whip and pointed toward the vast wilderness across the river:
“Soldiers! You already know why you’ve been summoned here—over there, in the west, in the depths of the wilderness, the remnants of the Firekindlers are stirring!”
“They rejected my offer to exchange prisoners, and worse still, they have subjected our comrades to horrifying tortures. They gouged out our comrades’ eyes, cut out their tongues, and then sent them back to us, just to humiliate us!”
“They are scheming yet another raid—the defeat at the Battle of Bloody Clay wasn’t enough for them. They roar and howl for more blood!”
“If they want more blood,” Winters donned his helt and coldly declared the enemy’s fate, “then we will give them more blood!”
The soldiers erupted in a unified roar of affirmation, shaking the forest and scattering countless startled birds into the sky.
“Colonel,” Winters turned to Seber, his tone icy, “no matter what you think, you don’t owe anything, and you have nothing to repay . However… I have nothing to give you either, and no promises to offer. Will you still go with ?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Seber licked his teeth, his eyes gleaming with madness, “As long as I can kill more Herd Barbarians, I’d do it for free.”
“Then let’s go,” Winters said without wasting any more words. Raising his hand, he pointed west toward the horizon and blew the horn of war:
“The enemy lies in the Great Wilderness!”
“Move out!”
Reviews
All reviews (0)