A Union of Two Minds

Treasure

Void
Anatolie Bran Dwyer stood in the center of the room on a stool, watching in the massive mirrors as the seamstress and the tailor bustled around him, making last-minute adjustments to his wedding garments. Tomorrow was the big day... and today he met his bride for the first time. He had written to her and knew about her, somewhat, but he had never met her. And now he was about to be joined with her for all eternity, or until one of them died. He sighed softly as the servants backed away.
"Your Majesty, do you approve?" the tailor asked while he and the seamstress watched nervously.
Bran stared at himself in the mirror. "Yes," he said quietly even though he couldn't tell much difference. "It looks perfect. Thank you. Now please excuse me. She will be arriving soon."
"Of course, your Majesty!" They walked away, bowing with each step.
Bran didn't move until butler stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Sir, as you said, she shall soon arrive."
Bran stepped down and gave him a nod. "Thank you, Alfonz. Please help me out of these rags."

~

Bartholomew Veldkamp stood at the forefront of the royal welcoming community in the shadow of the great gothic style castle. The road led through the front gates, circled before the sweeping front steps, and led back out the second gates. Bartholomew stood with the other eleven members of the high council at the bottom of the steps, the steps themselves lined with guards standing in perfect precision as they awaited the grand procession escorting the Princess Virginia Galatia Otello through their lands to Thornley Castle. The procession was made up of those loyal to the Otellion empire and their princess, accompanied by the finest guards of the Genevian army. Bartholomew had been to the Otellion Empire as part of the negotiation and had met the Princess, albeit briefly, and so was here to be a familiar face. He was rather vampiric in appearance, tall, slender, and pale with blonde, perfectly coifed hair, but at present, he was the only human in sight. Most of the guards were werewolves, and several of those gathered merely to watch were vampires or Nyx. The tall, striking vampires stood out sharply against the short, dark Nyx.

Bartholomew walked down and bowed as the carriage rolled up to the steps. "Princess Virginia! Welcome, welcome to Thornley Castle!"
 
The past week had been a grim one, the somber tone of the envoy feeling more akin to something found in a wake. Almost all members of Ginny's company expressed their discomfort in travelling through the monster infested lands in some form, and the less controlled members were visibly distressed. It was through sheer Otellion pride, and a matter of strict enforcement from Ginny's troops who accompanied them that this weakness was not shown to their heathen guides. The fact that this was actually a wedding procession alleviated some of the stress, as it was traditional for silence to be maintained until the vows were said, and the Otellion language of signs was the primary form of communication throughout the journey. Whether or not the monsters could understand it wasn't completely known, but that information was contained between Ginny's inner circle, and allowed the rest of the company some manner of peace. To maintain the order, Ginny had to keep her presentation impeccable, only ever showing dedicated and cautious professionalism. It was a painful experience to have this intense scrutiny with little respite but not a trial she was unfamiliar with.

They had set out late in the day of their arrival, though the timeframe remained the same due to the progress they'd made earlier. Ginny had spent the morning preparing, appropriate apparel of course, but also the more significant aspect of coordinating the return journey. There would be little time after the ceremony and certainly far more eyes than needed.

We'll be arriving soon my liege. Aluna, one of Ginny's handmaids handled the responsibilities of communicating with their escorts.

A slight tilt of the head, Ginny's grip tightened ever so slightly on the reigns to indicate her irritation. Yes.

I will retrieve the prophet.
Aluna radiated remorseful understanding, but spurred her horse back towards the set aside carriage for the religious authority.

Today was going to be a long day and Ginny wasn't sure she had the patience for the posturing and pandering that it was going to bring.

------

Virginia Galatia Otello knew how to establish herself in a space, and on the last stretch of road up to the castle, she would be lead by no one. She rode atop her steed with regality and power, flanked closely by several of her own guards, a carriage trailing close behind marked with the religious symbols of the temple. When she reached the bottom of the steps, the procession stopped, gathering behind her and where those of the Otellion Empire remained silent and motionless. With the precision and skill of someone who has been doing such actions for the majority of their life, but no longer has the benefits of youth for swift and ease, she dismounted her horse, her guards trailing close behind her. After this was completed, there was a flurry of movement near the front, especially around the area of the carriage.

Though she was by no means a tall woman, she gave the impression of height through her rigid posture, confident stride and commanding demeanor. She donned a sort of uniform, a long red tailed coat that cut off at her knees, elaborate golden embroidery patterning the edges, with a doubled trail of jeweled gold buttons leading up the front. She wore cream pants, and healed riding boots that were polished to a shine. Her hair was done into an elaborate braid, differing greying strands elegantly woven in with brown ones, and a delicately woven glimmering crown of gold rested around her brow.

With a paced level stride, she moved towards the greeter, looking him in the eye but offering no other forms of acknowledgement. A much taller woman with bronze skin and dark hair, joined her side soon after. Neither of them were smiling.

"I am Handmaiden Aluna Ocypete, and have been blessed by the prophet and her highness to be the voice of our procession. It is an important part of our traditions that no words are spoken from the time that the engagement is announced, until the vows at the wedding ceremony. I will act as a go between and translator for her highness in the time being."
 
"Ah. That is... excellent, of course!" Bartholomew assured her with a brilliant smile. Bartholomew bowed again. "Please, follow me." He backed away two careful steps before turning to lead the procession. The other advisors bowed deeply, murmuring pleasant greetings before falling in behind Bartholomew.

This was going to make the initial communication between the new couple interesting, but perhaps his King would surprise them all and know how to communicate with the strange hand waves these people used. It was unlikely, but King Dwyer tended to surprise people with the strangest of talents. It helped that he'd spent much of his early years traveling. The only thing that truly worried him was how the people were going to take this new development. Genevia had no official religion, perse, and the standard wedding ceremony was designed to be pretty vague so that each couple might adjust it to their beliefs and desires. Having some "Haughty taughty foreigner" come in and insist that their religion absolutely must be used was rubbing most of the commoners (and plenty of the gentry, as well) the wrong way. But King Dwhyer had agreed on the condition that they did the reception his way.

In order to reach the castle doors, they had to pass through the gauntlet of guards lining both sides and holding the doors. Bartholomew had warned them not to be intimidating, but werewolves were hard to dissuade when it came to intimidating someone. They stood neat and proper in their uniforms of black under simple leather armor and a blood-red sash angled from one shoulder, looking entirely human, but it was not hard to tell the difference if one knew how to look. All of them, no matter how cleaned up they were, looked like back-alley scrappers with a hint of stubble and a red gleam in their eyes as they studied these trespassers into their territory. Every man here would die for their king at the snap of the fingers, and what's more, they would debase themselves to do anything he asked, even if he asked them to form a stairway for him to walk up their backs. He was their king, and they were highly suspicious of this "princess" coming in from the outside. Oh, they knew the legal and national reasons and accepted them, but a territorial wolf was hard to assuage. And so it was that without moving, they somehow managed to lean closer, and if ever someone could "growl" with their eyes, these men were succeeding.

The doors opened, and Bartholomew led the group into the huge, sweeping hallway. The focus of the room was the extra wide staircase leading up to the second floor. The stone stairs were a work of art in of themselves. Arched doorways on either side led to different parts of the castle. The one to the right glimpsed the ballroom, and the one to the left appeared to be the dining room. There was another doorway behind the stairs, but it was mostly meant for servants and not visible from where the group now stood. People milled about, waiting and watching. Several stood on the stairway, some in the doorways. There were more werewolf guards stationed in discreet corners, and one or two Nyx stood watching, but of course, the vampires always drew the eye. Tall, delicate, graceful, with bright hair colors usually ranging in the reds, golds, and white-blondes, they reminded Bartholomew of the Elves in some fairy stories, right down to their arrogant expressions. They felt old. Just as a werewolf felt shabby no matter how cleaned up he was, or a Nyx felt shadowy, vampires felt ancient and regal. Even the young ones. They watched the newcomers in absolute silence, every expression one of stone.

"Welcome to Thornley Castle!" Bartholomew said as warmly as he could manage. He knew all of these people, and even he was getting a chill from this reception. He could only imagine how their guests were feeling. "Thornley is our oldest and most significant landmark. It is only opened to the public for the most important of occasions, such as the one we are about to have tomorrow! The rest of the time, it is kept closed to preserve its historic value."

Maids of the Nyx and Vampire variety glided forward to take the visitor's coats to be hung.
 
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