3 — The Signing, er, Wedding Ceremony

After a shocking completion of negotiations and a yearlong engagement, we were finally married.

The original plan was to hold the ceremony six months after the engagement, but about two months prior to the ceremony, an incident occurred in the country to the south that resulted in a minor conflict at the national border, so the duke was occupied with serving in the armed forces there. The Kingdom of Flür was blessed with warm weather, the flatlands yielded a good harvest, and our mountains produced a wide variety of minerals. Our resources were plentiful and the mood across the country was peaceful.

On the other hand, the country to the south was cursed with a hot, harsh climate that made the soil infertile, so most people sustained themselves by hunting. It seemed that they had set their sights on our calm, fertile soil. If one was to describe this general character of this hot-blooded nation, well... to put it nicely, they were passionate. To put it bluntly, they were easily whipped into a frenzy and were always quarreling with neighboring countries. Thus far, for reasons I can’t explain, we generally avoided conflict. This time, however, we were unable to avoid it, and a skirmish broke out. And naturally, when the armed forces were dispatched, so was the duke.

The fighting went on for several months and ended with a tentative victory for the Flür Kingdom. When life both inside and out of the country returned to normal afterwards, we held the wedding.

A whole year had passed since finalizing our contract... er, announcing our engagement by the time the wedding was held. I was on the verge of pummeling this man, whose engagement and face had nearly been erased from my mind. All the while, of course, I had kept the contract a secret from my family. They might have fainted at the sight of the roguish clauses it contained. I was probably the only one capable of enduring its contents.

And so we return to the beginning of my story, the day of the wedding.

Our wedding was held at the head sanctuary, the highest ranking sanctuary within the state church, located within the royal palace. To be allowed to get married in the palace sanctuary is a privilege granted only to royalty and a handful of notable, wealthy people. Rich brats—I mean... aristocrats—like the duke were at the top of the list of these notable people.

Hmm, once I’m somebody, I’ll get special treatment, too!

I wore a glamorous wedding dress provided for me by the duke’s family, made of the highest quality silk and liberally studded with beautiful, sparkling jewels. We were quite the pair, me in my dress heavily embellished with dainty, dazzling gems, standing next to the duke who radiated the air of a handsome prince. I felt like a walking treasure chest that day. The dress and jewels alone must have been worth a fortune.

And I, on the other hand, well... not so much. For me to be standing there next to this radiant, handsome duke... there must have been some mistake.

I see you over there. Could you not glare at me, ladies?

They were burning up inside, glaring jealous daggers at me. But somehow, I managed to avoid being stabbed to death by their fury, as I stood there on the altar next to him.

“Cercis Tinensis Fisalis, do you take Viola Mangelica Euphorbia to be your wife, to love until the end of your days?” The priest’s solemn yet beautiful voice echoed through the now hushed sanctuary.

“I do,” pledged the duke, his voice strong and unfaltering, his expression humble.

What a liar, I scoffed internally.

Oh no. If I can’t give a flawless performance like him, I’m done for!

“Do you, Viola Mangelica Euphorbia, take Cercis Tinensis Fisalis to be your husband, to love until the end of your days?” the priest turned to me and asked.

The duke briefly glanced down at me and I... delivered my line flawlessly!

“I do.”

I put on an excellent performance, albeit with some blushing. I’m quite the capable girl, you know!

The duke nodded in satisfaction, while the priest smiled and did the same. The show was a success.

After we mutually said our vows, there was the ritual of kissing the back of each other’s hands. The moment the duke took my gloved hand and reverently kissed it, sighs of awe escaped here and there throughout the congregation—or maybe I was just hallucinating. When I took the duke’s masculine hand and kissed it, I swear I heard someone tutting, but that could have been a hallucination, too. Our vows were a pack of lies, and easy ones to see through, at that.

Once the ceremony was over, all that was left was to sign the marriage certificate. For something that could so easily make our marriage official with a simple signature, it was an extremely daunting piece of paper. Normally, one says their vows in front of the priest and one’s beloved, and then signs the certificate which the priest then completes on behalf of the head sanctuary. This goes for weddings at other sanctuaries, too. Wedding certificates are completed by the priests in the head sanctuary, no matter one’s rank.

On a related note, suppose one takes the time to pull one’s wedding certificate from storage to get a divorce. The priests will be irked because the process for destroying the certificate is very bothersome for them as well—the certificate has to be torn to pieces and burned. Thus, I have heard that the priests will gently try to persuade couples to not get divorced. And since the priests are so stubborn, many people drop their plans for divorce, which is why it rarely happens in our kingdom.

Oh, I went off on a tangent, again. That’s why, when it came to the two of us, who seemed likely to divorce, I wonder if I was meant to hear the priests whispering afterwards that “it doesn’t matter if people put it away in storage when the contract is simple.” I must have been mistaken.

As I mulled over all these things, the duke was beside me signing the certificate, without hesitation, where it was laid out on the table on the altar. Then he passed the feather pen to me. He even had an exaggerated smile plastered on his face. Excellent performance, bravo. Please forgive my less than stellar performance, but I could only manage a sardonic smile.

I took the pen from him and signed. The moment I did, the duke and I ‘legally’ became husband and wife. Deep down, though, it all felt less like a wedding ceremony and more like a very flamboyant execution and signing of a treaty. The reception that followed was sheer agony for me.

If getting our debts repaid was some sort of game, I certainly feel like the loser here.

Yes, I’m sorry. That’s right—I should be grateful he even offered.

We moved from the sanctuary to a vast banquet hall—or rather, a reception hall—in the palace for the reception. The magnificent room was decorated with chandeliers positively dripping in crystals. I was dazzled. This was the most luxurious place in the kingdom for entertaining guests, where parties sponsored by the monarchs were thrown.

The duke’s family sure went all out, holding the reception in such an awe-inspiring location! They really know how to impress!

The duke and I were sandwiched between the king and the princess, sitting at the very front of the reception hall. We were looking right at everyone. Under normal circumstances, it was a position reserved for a brilliant leader, so I could not help but feel like I was being put on display.

The king rose and made some congratulatory address, but it was so long that everyone seemed to be falling asleep. While they weren’t paying attention, I took a quick look around. Lines of tables were covered in scrumptious-looking food and sweets. That reminds me—I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I’m starving. I had better pray that my stomach doesn’t growl. All things considered, there were a great many people in attendance. I had no clue who anyone was, but I’m sure all the nobility was there.

I spotted my family. It looked like seats had been reserved for them, with Father, Mother, and my siblings all at a table. This was the first time my brother and sister had ever been anywhere this fancy, and they looked frozen in fear. Poor guys.

Oh, everyone’s standing up? They’re all getting their food from the buffet and will get up later to chat and dance. The people at the same table as me must be the duke’s parents. They’re well-suited to lavish surroundings. This is actually my first time meeting them... I had better introduce myself to them later!

“...so let us have a toast to pray for the happiness of our lucky couple!” offered His Majesty with a raise of his glass. At last, my long mental escape from reality as I looked around the room—I mean, his much-appreciated address—was over. And then he announced the beginning of the feast.

During the feast, the duke and I went around and introduced ourselves, as was the custom. I could almost feel the ladies’ eyes like daggers piercing me from all directions as I introduced myself with an insincere smile to my peers, superiors, subordinates, and friends from high society until, just like royalty, I politely excused myself. Thankfully, although I was very nervous, I managed to not say, “it is an honor to meet you today, but I have already forgotten your name,” or “I do hope we meet again, but I am confident that I will act as if it is our first time!”

Ugh... it feels like I did a lifetime’s worth of socializing today. I’m not proud of it, but until today I was practically a recluse!

Just when I wondered if all that internal screaming from this forced socializing had finally worn itself out, the duke, still smiling, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and whispered into my ear. “Are you alright? Have you tired yourself out?”

That’s right, in front of everyone.

Your face is too close, and please stop kissing my ear! You’re being too sappy, it’s embarrassing! But then I realized, Oh, wait... maybe this is the start of a new mission!

I had to be careful. I was once more dangerously close to dying on the spot. Having barely caught on, I played along and pretended to be shy, sweetly answering back, “I do believe I’m fine.”

He smiled back at me fleetingly. So, yeah, I think we were pretty much on track, right?

“Good,” he said with a bright smile I couldn’t hold a candle to.

He’s really laying it on thick. Blargh. But I suppose to everyone else we look like a sugary sweet, lovesick couple. I can’t say that they seem happy for us though, based on how they’re glaring at us. Looking back at this production, I did not have a single bite of that delicious-looking food or dessert. It’s heartbreaking.

Our little show—our two-man comedy routine, if you will—ended that night. That evening was the first time I set foot in the Fisalis family’s house. The duke... well, no, now that he was my husband, it seemed weird to call him “the duke.”

What do I call him? He never said... We were overly familiar, despite being a fake couple. And wouldn’t it be absurd for a young girl like me to call a duke by his first name? So... “dear,” then?...No. That’s just as overly familiar. Rejected. Hmm, “Mr. Fisalis” makes me feel more distant from him, but also feels respectful. Yeah, that’ll work just fine. And then I veered away from the mental anguish that was deciding to call the duke “Mr. Fisalis.”

Anyway, to get back to the story, I had just arrived at the Fisalis house. Mr. Fisalis (formerly known as “the duke”) escorted me into the entrance hall where the servants had lined up to welcome us.

The Fisalis family must be loaded! How many servants do they even have? There are so many! My family only has two, a butler and a maid.

“Welcome home, Sir, Madam!” They bowed with such enthusiasm that they made a swishing noise, which in turn made me really feel the poverty I grew up in. And they called me “Madam!” I was utterly frozen in embarrassment.

But these servants were merely everyday figures in the duke’s life, so he elegantly ignored them, saying to me, “You’ll be living here from now on. I’ll show you around.” He led me by the hand up the stairs to the second floor. I was shown to the most lovely—and also shockingly large—room. Taking in the spaciousness, I looked around. There was a sofa and a table, as well as a desk for writing. The most impressive piece in the room was the bed.

How many people are meant to sleep in that!? It could fit my whole family at least!

It was also draped in a lovely canopy. Mr. Fisalis reflexively dropped my hand and entered the room. I touched my hand nervously.

The room was mostly white and outfitted with every luxury I could need, but at the same time, understated. Poor as I was, I could not begin to imagine how much it all cost, but I could immediately tell that it was high quality. Until then, I had only seen such quality in other people’s houses that I rarely visited, and I felt the need to pinch myself. I was actually just about to when I stopped myself.

Ah, well, this originally was someone else’s house! No sooner had I unsteadily entered the room than Mr. Fisalis looked in from the doorway where he still stood and said, “This is the master bedroom. Please use it as you see fit,” with a strained smile.

The master bedroom, huh? Call it what you want, but since we’re a fake couple, when you say I can use this room however I want, you really mean that I should think of this as my quarters, don’t you? Understanding what he meant, I turned to Mr. Fisalis and nodded.

“Of course. Er, though, where do you stay, Mr. Fisalis?” I wanted to avoid pressing him for details, but not knowing this basic information bothered me.

“I live away from the house, in a cottage at the edge of the garden.”

That is to say, “I certainly don’t live here,” I guess.

This is the first time I’ve called him “Mr. Fisalis” and he doesn’t seem to mind, so I guess I made a good choice.

“Your girlfriend is there, too, then?”

“Yes.”

I see... so this ‘cottage’ is really a loveshack!

...a loveshack! Even saying it to myself makes the room seem colder. No! This is not the time to be playing the straight man!

“I understand. I’ll make sure to keep my distance.”

He said nothing. For some reason, his expression was hard to read, even though I meant what I said.

Did I say something wrong?

“Is something the matter?” I asked.

“No. You just seem so indifferent...”

“Isn’t that what this contract calls for?”

“I suppose you’re right. Well, then, I’ll take my leave.”

“Thank you. Have a good night.” Again, nothing.

After an all-day ceremony like that, I was beat! When I looked at him, Mr. Fisalis nodded quickly, as if to say, ‘meeting adjourned,’ once again with that unreadable look on his face.

After Mr. Fisalis left and I was alone, I sat down on the sofa and stretched. It felt like the first time I’d sat in the calm and quiet all day. Since I’d arrived, it was like the exhaustion had been creeping through my whole body, up from my feet. I really had been exhausted all day. I wore the most expensive dress I’d ever had on in my life, got married for the first time (though I suppose most people’s marriages are their first ones), and went to a wedding in the royal palace for the first time. It was a day full of firsts. And considering everything, it was no surprise that I still wasn’t used to pretending to be in love with Mr. Fisalis. My face must’ve looked rather drawn by the end.

I’m still a rookie actress. I hope I don’t blow my cover.

As I was sprawling out on the sofa, two maids knocked and entered. I stared in amazement as they looked after my every need, and by the time I realized what was happening, I was bathed and dressed for bed, and encouraged to hop right into the silken sheets. The next day would mark my official start as a show bride.

Oh well, I’ll worry about that tomorrow... I decided before I nodded off.