Savage Divinity

I always figured I’d end up fighting for my life on the day of my wedding.

I just never thought it’d be against my grandfather slash father-in-law, or that he would beat me black and blue without mercy.

Inwardly grumbling as I limp back downstairs with my family in tow, I do my best not to scowl or glare as Husolt hovers over me like a mother hen. His meaty hands brush the dirt and dust from my cloak before straightening my shirt collar and no doubt leaving dirty fingerprints and sooty nail marks as he goes. “There’s a good lad,” he rumbles, his expression twisted with uncertain concern now that he realizes he may have gone too far. “Lookin’ sharp as ever, you are. Ah, got a little smudge on your cheek there.” A fat thumb presses down on the growing bruise he mistook for dirt and my scowl breaks free, earning me a sheepish shrug from Husolt before he continues with his unhelpful ministrations.

But, my father-in-law made plans it seems, for upon emerging from the staircase, he leads me away from his apartment where my beloved Mila awaits and down six or seven doors to Tokta’s apartment, where the taciturn Healer stands waiting in the doorway with his customary neutral expression. Behind him, his lovely wife, Khorijin, putters about the room and pretends she’s not glaring in my general direction while Tenjin awkwardly stands around with nothing to do and Tursinai basks in the communal tension. I suppose they all heard about my attempted blackmail, but in my defence, stairs are the worst and I was already sweating enough after rappelling down five stories in twenty-odd kilos of armour. I may be a crippled Martial Warrior, but I’m in pretty good shape for a regular human.

“Hello sir,” I begin, putting on my best smile for the grumpy Healer and his angry wife. “Ma’am. Tenjin. Tursinai. Sorry about the whole... insinuating you had a shameful secret thing. My future father-in-law set a very strict time limit on the retrieval, and I’m not sure I would’ve made it if I had to take the stairs.” Turning to accept a giant red pocket from Mom, I hold it out with both hands for Tenjin to take and say, “Please accept this token of thanks for being a part of my wedding ceremony.”

“No thanks is needed, my friend,” Tenjin says, even as Tokta snaps up the red pocket and tosses it back to his wife, who catches it without pausing her glare. “...But I will gratefully accept it.” Left unsaid is the ‘I suppose’, and we exchange pained expressions over shared hardships. We both know it was meant in good fun and were laughing the whole while, but everyone else is making such a big deal out of it. Mom even scolded me for being shameless, and I suppose I can see how it could get out of hand, but I could always just lie and say his dark secret is his penis is too big or something.

“Hmph,” Tokta grunts, taking me by the chin and turning my head this way and that. “Old age is making you soft,” he says, shooting a dry look at Husolt. “Hardly a scratch on him. Be a waste of effort to Heal this.”

“Come now, Tokta,” Husolt pleads, eyes darting down the hallway towards his apartment. “Don’t be playing around, not today. My girl will have my hide if I bring him back scuffed like he is, then my old wife will stomp on all over what’s left. Did my best to keep all the bruises hidden, but the lad is a tricksy one he is. Slipped past my guard and almost stepped on my toes. Had to put him down harder than I meant to, so hurry up and fix him before someone comes looking.”

Harder than he meant to. What a nice way of saying he bashed me in the face with his giant metal staff. Least I turned away in time, else he might’ve broken my nose, but it cost me a few loose teeth which will need fixing. Thankfully, Tokta is only teasing and quickly takes care of my injuries, though I notice he leaves behind the bruised ribs from when Husolt jabbed me in the chest and the throbbing knee I got from banging against the wall on my way down the building. This stupid golden armour is more ornamental than serviceable, which wouldn’t be an issue if it was Runic like the Legate’s, but no, mine is just plain vanilla steel gilded with a gold alloy. Not even pure gold, though it makes sense, since pure gold would dent real easy.

Then again, Runic Armour wouldn’t even work on me, as evidenced by my experiments with Taduk’s Runic shields, so I suppose kitting me out in Runic gear would’ve been a waste of money.

After handing over another red pocket to Tokta as thanks for his help, I make my way over to Akanai’s with an exaggerated limp, just so I can see Husolt sweat a bit more. I’m not really angry, just a little exasperated and annoyed that he couldn’t go a little easier on me, since there was absolutely no way I could’ve gotten the token in time without cheating. Also, that riddle wasn’t fair, how am I supposed to pick which of my pets live and which ones die? It’s impossible to give a good answer, and he didn’t even give me enough information. Like, why couldn’t my pets just jump off the crumbling ledge? The wildcats in particular can jump for impressive heights and distances, and the bunnies are no slouches either, not to mention the fact that my bears can climb better than most monkeys so they shouldn’t be in too much danger from crumbling cliffs.

Now I’m worried. Should I teach my pets to hold onto ropes with their mouths? Better yet, maybe I can teach them to climb a rope, though I have no idea if bunbuns can do that. It’d be best if I taught them all how to Cloud-Step, but even I don’t know how, so that’s a bust, unless little Blackjack learns on his own and teaches the rest of his fellow floofs...

The hypotheticals melt away as we arrive outside the door to Akanai’s apartment, with the large, red silk scarf tied in a fat knot hanging in front of it. Clearing his throat, Husolt intones, “Falling Rain of the People, I, Husolt, invite you into my home, so that you might become a part of my family.” With that said, he tugs the knotted scarf down and drapes it around my neck before opening the door and heading in first. Customs says I bow and follow inside, but all of a sudden, I find my mind blank and legs locked in place.

This is my wedding. Once I walk through the doors, I’m technically married. The rest is just a formality, because this right here is the ceremony. There’s no turning back after this, no coming back from a mistake, so it’s do or die. Quite literally in fact, because if down the line, Mila discovers she’s made a huge mistake and leaves me, there’s a very good chance Husolt or Akanai will murder me in a fit of pique. I don’t think I’d even blame them for it either, because if Mila ever left me, it would be because I screwed up big time, which isn’t all that hard to imagine considering I’ve got another wedding on the calendar less than months from now, as well as a long list of hang-up, neuroses, physical, deficiencies, metaphysical ailments, and deep, dark secrets which I hope to never reveal.

Am I wrong to marry Mila without revealing who I really am? I’m not even sure how I would explain it, or what I would do if word were to spread. Would I be burned as a witch? Or taken away to study? Would the Brotherhood want to know more, or would they see me as some sort of karmic aberration or something? What about my parents? How would they feel about it? I thought about this and more during this last week, and while I could twist the facts all I want, but at the end of it all, there were no certain answers. There are plenty of reasons to turn around and walk away right now, but only one to move forward.

I love Mila, and I am not strong enough to go through life without her by my side.

Is it selfish? Probably, but I can’t help it. I want to be happy, even if I’m not sure if I really deserve it.

My feet carry me through the doorway and Mila is all I can I see, not because she’s right in front of me, but because my mind will not register anything or anyone else. There she sits with her feet together and hands resting over her knees. Prominently displayed on her fourth finger is the wedding band I gave her last week, nestled in her dainty but formidable fists which are balled up to keep from fidgeting with her long, clingy dress. A red silk affair embroidered with golden clouds and phoenixes, the dress is a sleeveless, high-necked affair that hugs her body tight all the way down until flaring out around her ankles. Golden phoenix bangles adorn her wrists, and a sheer silk stole is draped neatly around her bared shoulders, covering her pale, freckled skin without obscuring it in any way, shape or form. Her lovely, lustrous hair hangs down in fiery ringlets and is held in place by an ornate red and gold tiara, from which hangs a veil of stringed beads of red and gold which hides her lovely face. Despite this, I can still imagine the surly scowl she’s directing at her hang-dog father who’s taking his seat, no doubt knowing he’s being silently berated for taking so long, and my cheeks feel ready to burst from my unrestrained smile.

There sits my beloved wife, Mila.

Prompted by Mom’s Sending, I finally remember what I’m supposed to do next, except my tongue feels ten times too large to speak. Looking around the room like a lost puppy, I finally take in the rest of the beautiful decorations, not to mention the veritable horde of dressed animals lingering about, including sweet Mama Bun thumping at my feet, looking oh-so-adorable with her fake-flower headband perched atop her nubby horns. It had to be fake because she kept eating the flowers, but this is not the time or place to cuddle my floofs as there are things to be done. “With the Heavens as my witness,” I begin, removing the decorative silk knot from around my neck and presenting it to Mila with a bow, “I, Falling Rain, ask Sumila to accept my love and devotion. Take this string so that our fates may be tied as husband and wife, from this breath, until my last.”

Mila’s hands reach for the knot before I’m even done asking, her palms under mine as she stands with me. “I, Sumila of the People,” she begins, and I can almost make out her bright, burning eyes from behind the beads, “Accept Falling Rain as my Husband, from this breath until my last.”

A staff strikes the ground and I finally notice Monk Happy, beaming as he stands off to one side in full Brotherhood regalia, with bright yellow and orange monk robes as well as a bronze, mohawked headpiece. “This monk bears witness to this union on behalf of the Heavens,” he begins, in the soft cadence of ritualized speech. “Let it be known that from this day forward, Falling Rain and Sumila of the People, are now husband and wife. May the Heavens bless their union and...”

While Monk Happy waxes on about love and Balance, Mom and Akanai are busy tying me and Mila together, binding our wrists in silk with the ornate knot suspended between us. It’s not really all that restrictive, since we can easily stand side by side and even move around separately if need be, but we can’t go more than a meter apart. Once this is done, Husolt makes a big show of removing Mila’s chair, and places two other silk-laden decorated chairs for Mom and Dad to sit on. With all four parents seated in a row, Mila and I move on to the next part, which is making tea for everyone to drink. The water is already boiled and being kept warm on the stove, so we carry it together to the waiting tea set and use my right and her left hand to set everything up. All the while, I can’t help peeking behind the beads to look at her beautiful smile, and she blushes beneath the intense scrutiny. Beautiful as she is each and every day, she looks especially stunning this morning with her hair and make-up done, and I find myself lamenting the loss of my Natal Palace because it means I won’t be able to keep this memory untarnished for all time.

I’ll just have to remember it the good old fashioned way, which is fine by me, since it means I get to look at her more.

Eventually, amidst much fumbling, giggling, and hand holding, we finally finish going through all the complicated steps of pouring water on leaves, of which there are far more than needed. It’s all a bunch of ceremonial flourishes which are supposed to enhance the tea’s flavour, but I am a heathen who puts butter and sugar in my tea, so I’m not really the target tea audience. Filling two porcelain cups with excessively fancy tea, we bring them over atop porcelain plates to stand in front of our parents, and Monk Happy exclaims, “One cup for the Heavens, and one for the Earth, both of which sustain our lives within this world.” Mila and I drink the tea, and bow three times towards the open window before returning for new cups of freshly poured tea. These ones go to the father of the bride, then next the mother, followed by Song, my parents, and lastly, Alsantset and Charok. Technically, we’re supposed to present tea to my grandparents as well, but seeing how my grandparents are Mila’s parents, I’m guessing they decided to omit this step.

And then the ceremony is over. That’s it. No vows, no documents, no kiss, nothing. Weddings amongst the People are not exactly showy affairs, since they’re for immediate family only, so all that’s left is to celebrate and make merry over this most joyous of affairs. Finally free of formal constraints, I part Mila’s beaded veil with both hands and take in her beautiful smile, wishing I could drag her away for a taste of her lips. That would be a big no-no amongst the People though, so I settle for a stroke of her cheek, and am rewarded with the sweetest, most adorable nuzzle I have ever seen. “Oh wow,” I say, not needing to fake my overenthusiastic tone. “Did I luck out or what? I got me a beautiful wife, I did, and strong, confident, and valiant to boot.”

“And me, a handsome, heroic husband,” Mila shoots back, clutching my lapel in a possessive manner. “A clever, loving man who best stop his dumb rabbit from chewing on his wife’s wedding dress.” Flushing as she struggles to keep George at bay, she growls, “I can’t bend over or crouch while wearing this cursed thing, not without worrying it’ll rip.”

Laughing a little too hard at her plight, I rescue her dress from George’s rabid attempts to devour the embroidery and stuff a dandelion in his mouth instead, which of course brings the other rabbits rushing for their fair share. Ignoring their horned headbutts clinking off my greaves, I scatter handfuls of treats all around me without taking my eyes off Mila. “Well, you look incredible.”

“You do too, though your armour is a little too shiny for my tastes.” With a smile like hers, she could say I was hideously under-dressed and I’d have no argument to give, but that’s all the time we have to ourselves before our parents come over for hearty hugs, cheery congratulations, and light-hearted stories about the both our childhoods and the silly, stupid things we got into. Even though it’s not even nine in the morning, we had to start this early on account of having to greet two-thousand plus guests before dinner, so Charok breaks out the alcohol and we all hoist a small cup, even Happy who I figured would abstain on account of being a monk.

A thought that returns after an hour or so of trading tales, and I bring Mila over to speak with the perpetually smiling monk. “Hello, good monk. Hi Kukku.” Without the Abbot around to direct my attentions, I’ve never been able to see through the Silkie Rooster’s Concealment a second time, but the silly bird is easily tricked. Upon hearing me greet him, he drops his Concealment which he thinks is no longer of use and takes shelter behind the monk, poking his white, floof-feathered, eyelinered face out to peer at me in alarmed concern. Though I feel kind of bad for spooking the poor guy, my guilt is offset by how adorable Kukku looks as the fledgling Laughing Birds all flock over to nestle atop his head.

Faced with Monk Happy’s disapproving frown, I bow my head to show contrition. “Thank you for officiating,” I say, not sure if the term applies, but no one looks at me funny and Happy bows his head back in acceptance. “Though I am a little confused. I didn’t think the Brotherhood would support my marriage, on account of the whole ‘Three Desires’ thing.”

Not put off by my clumsy wording, Monk Happy presses his palms together and smiles, which gives him an almost ageless look, neither young nor old, but untouched by time. “Unlike the Abbot, this monk did not believe inducting you into the order against your wishes was the right move. The Brotherhood’s precepts are not a yoke to slip about the necks of the ignorant, but a distant landmark for the willing to seek out. What’s more, the first of the Three Desires speaks against the cravings for sensual pleasures, but this does not mean the Brotherhood is set against love and marriage, for love is a beautiful thing. What we preach against is the wanton indulgence in lust and carnality, amongst other things, which this monk will happily go into if you so desire.” His smile darkening ever so slightly, Monk Happy shakes his head and adds, “Unfortunately, this monk fears the Brotherhood is not as united as it once was. Between the dissenting factions, the Abbot’s absence, and only two of five Wisdoms available to hold things together, my Brothers lack much needed guidance and leadership to steer them through these tumultuous times.”

...Right, right, because I’m one of those Wisdoms. Mahakala was another, and the third one, Jorani’s Old Healer Vyakhya, defected to the Defiled. Bad times all around. “Still no word from the Abbot or the others?” I ask, while keeping a close eye on Mila’s reaction. Like it or not, Guan Suo is still probably her father by blood, and people do strange things when family is involved.

Thankfully, my beautiful bride seems more concerned with straightening her tiara and veil of beads, but I can tell she’s keeping an ear on the conversation. Shaking his head, Monk Happy’s smile turns wry. “Unfortunately not. Battles between Divinities are not the same as battles between Peak Experts, for they stand within a half-step of God-hood itself. Their clashes transcend the physical world, and can last for months without end, but there is little more this monk can add. All we can do is wait and pray the Abbot and his allies return victorious.”

Hard to imagine a duel lasting several days, much less weeks, and it’s been four months since that fateful day in Sinuji when the Abbot, GangShu, and Guan Suo left to square off against Vyakhya, Mole-Rat Lady, and Big Poppa Piggy. I have to wonder why no other Divinities have seen fit to reinforce them, but everyone I’ve asked either doesn’t know anything, or they won’t say, my parents and the Legate included. It can’t just be the Treaty, because I have to imagine that all out conflict would render it null and void, but for some reason, there’s been no word of other Divinities lending aid, whether it’s Imperial Beardies, Mama Gam, or even Ancestral Beasts of the People, who I imagine exist somewhere, else Mom would’ve never been so confident about killing Zhu Changzui for me.

Honestly, just thinking about that offer makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I wonder what would’ve happened if I took her up on it? Nothing good, probably, since the Big Pig has got his all-consuming goop, Anathema, in his back pocket.

Despite my soaring spirits over my marriage to Mila, it is in my nature to dwell on the worst, and it follows me downstairs as I bring my blushing bride to share a drink with my friends and begin the bridal games. Ping Ping greets us warmly with her lovely floral wreath, which sweet George fixates on and tries to eat, but the big girl is savvy enough to keep the dumb bunny from devouring her prized hat, and even makes a game of teasing him by letting him climb up her beak and get real close before Deflecting him away.

I bet she played these sorts of games with the red-pandas too. It might be a little callous and crass, but I hope someone gifts me with a red-panda, even if it’s meant as a veiled insult towards Mila. I could forgive a lot for one of those cute little ring-tailed sweethearts, and a lot more for two.

Holding my hands up to stop my friends in their place, I say, “Before we begin, there are a few small matters which must be addressed, so that we may continue forward with this most joyous of days with nothing to hold us back.” Even Mila doesn’t know what I mean to do here, but I flash her a reassuring smile before pointing at Fung. “I believe someone needs to come out and greet his Senior Martial Brother-in-Law.”

“Bah!” Feigning outrage amidst the amused chuckles, Fung hefts a gourd of rice wine and says, “Never. I refuse this toast and drink a forfeit!”

“Good!” Clapping as Fung downs the bottle, we all laugh and cheer at his reddened cheeks until I hold my hands up for silence once more. “The next forfeit I must demand goes to Huu.” On cue, Fung slaps a full gourd against Huu’s chest and holds it there until the big guy takes it, his expression a mixture between anger and confusion. “I understand and accept that you’ve been busy these past months, my friend, but you forgot that your comrades are here to help share your burdens.” Pausing to make sure he knows I’m being sincere, I grin and shout, “So, for forgetting you have friends to lean on, you must drink!”

I can see the hesitance in his eyes, but I also know Ghurda is now telling him his wine gourd was watered down. I understand being wary about lowering his inhibitions, but I want my friend and brother to know that he is and always will be a part of our group, no matter how hard he might try to escape. Under the crowd’s urging, and his mother’s assurances, Big Huu finally empties the gourd into his gullet and we all laugh and cheer before I hand out a few more forfeits, which is mostly just an excuse to get my friends drunk. Zian, BoShui, Dastan, Wu Gam, Ravil, Bulat, Jorani, Pran, Saluk, Viyan, Birca, Silva, Jochi, Argat, Tenjin, Tursinai, and everyone else who came out to join my ceremonial marriage guards, they all drink forfeits followed by a shared cup with me and Mila, leaving us all well and drunk before lunch time.

And me without a proper breakfast, just a half-dozen reheated meat buns scarfed down before getting dressed...

In between doling out forfeits and playing silly games (which usually result in more forfeits and drinking), I make time to indulge my inner defeatist. While Ral, Wu Gam, Pran, Saluk, and a few other brave souls square off in a hard-tack speed eating competition, I clap Zian on the shoulder and pull him close during this rare moment of distraction. “Glad you could make it back in time for the ceremony. How’s Sinuji look these days?”

Though expecting the question, Zian’s smile still falters. “Still in shambles,” he quietly admits. “The Defiled are relentless in their attempts to finish what they started and constantly interfere with our attempts to rebuild, but the Legate is loath to commit more Martial Warriors to an unfortified position now that Defiled cavalry have taken the field.” Switching to Sending, he adds, “It looks like they’re probing our defences and searching for the best place to punch through. Every week or two, a sizable warband will make an appearance along the front lines, but they no longer fight to death and will retreat when all seems lost. Worst part is, they bring no Demons with them and the ones that are born on the battlefield retreat right away. If this keeps up, my provisional status will remain in place until I run out of time to prove myself strong enough to kill a Demon.”

“If that’s the biggest problem we have at year’s end, then I’d say that’s worth celebrating.”

“You make a good point,” Zian says out loud, before Sending, “Colonel General Nian Zu thinks they’re preparing for another big attack, and I don’t see any reason to disagree. Problem is, we don’t know where, though Sinuji is likely due to its central location, weak defences, and the knowledge that there will not be a second fire-trap to even the odds.”

Damn it. This is too soon. “I may have something in the works, but I still need time to test the product, iron out the details, train workers, purchase materials, arrange supply lines and all that.” Zian’s curiosity is evident, but he refrains from asking questions and simply nods, trusting that I will do what I can. Truth is, there’s not much either of us can do to enact change on a large scale, because despite our lofty statuses, we’re still small fish when it comes to the war. “How’s the Colonel General’s pet project coming along?”

“...poorly at Sinuji,” Zian replies, shaking his head, “but BoShui has found great success further north in DangDon. The irregulars fare better with walls to stand upon, but they’re utterly useless once the cavalry reach them.”

The irregulars. A nice name to call a cadre of condemned criminals drafted into war, but Nian Zu was adamant we not risk the lives of good Imperial citizens on the battlefield. “Of course they’re useless,” I mutter, knowing Mila is keeping quiet just to be polite. “They’re not Martial Warriors, just regular people armed with spears and crossbows. They need to be better protected.”

Zian nods, followed by a shrug. “I’ve done my best to keep them safe, but there is only so much I can do while also ensuring they hold the line and don’t fill my soldiers’ backs full of bolts. Then it becomes especially difficult once the Defiled mark the irregulars as both easy target and dangerous threat.”

That’s why volunteers would have been better, because then you’d only get the bravest and most patriotic candidates amongst the civilians, but Nian Zu refused to listen to my advice. “Well, they’ll work better here in the Citadel,” I say, picturing it in my head. There’s the outer wall, an unobstructed plaza, then a line of buildings that form the inner wall, which is not only higher than the outer wall, but also close enough for my repeating crossbows to unload on attackers without risk of friendly fire.

And with luck, maybe they’ll have more support, though that’s still up in the air.

This was the crux of Nian Zu’s ‘controversial’ proposal, to bring in condemned criminals and slaves to help bolster the Imperial Army’s numbers. He understands the beauty of ranged warfare, and knows that bows and crossbows firing over the lines of defending soldiers add so much more killing potential. Problem is, Nian Zu wasn’t kidding when he said it’d be controversial. Even with the Legate hammering it through and paying a quarter of the costs out of pocket, there was a lot of pushback on the issue and not all of it was ridiculous as I expected. Civilians scare more easily than Martial Warriors, meaning troops and officers are needed to keep them in line, because in the heat of battle, hard-pressed soldiers won’t stop to check whether their fleeing comrade is a Martial Warrior before panicking and setting off a chain rout. There’s a whole host of other problems too, including Tainted civilians infecting the regular troops and bringing down morale, as well as logistical issues like the fact that vanilla humans can’t march seventy-five kilometres a day like Martial Warriors can. Twenty kilometres while carrying a full load is about all you can ask for from professionally trained civilians, but it’s not as simple as giving them wagons. You can’t have slaves and criminals riding in comfort while hard-working soldiers slog through the mud, so there’s really no good solution.

To fix this, I’ve been recruiting and training my own private army of civilian crossbowmen who are meant to fight from fortified positions only. I don’t have a military rank anymore, which means I technically shouldn’t be raising troops, but I found a nifty little loophole. Technically, soldiers, by definition, are Martial Warriors, and regular civilians bearing arms are just militia, and there are no laws against training a local militia, nor are there limitations to equipping them, because who cares about civilians with weapons? I’ve had Bulat and Jorani running things on that front, and thus far, their efforts have been constrained to my beet farms, which amounts to two-thousand fighting aged males who have enough training to load and loose crossbows with only minimal risk of killing friendlies. Not the best results for six weeks of work, but with a little luck and a lot of War Bond money, I’ll be able to expand my civilian militia efforts greatly, with only minimal effort.

Zian’s quiet cough brings me out of my thoughts and back to the present, just in time to see Ral emerge victorious from the speed-eating competition and ask for more hard-tack. Laughing along with the crowd, I turn to my greatest rival-turned-friend and raise an eyebrow in question, wondering what it could be that he needs to get off his chest. “My mother would like to know,” Zian hesitantly Sends, which brings up all sorts of wrong signals, “If you have any more unstamped War Bonds, and if they’re for sale.”

Nice. The more business-savvy people who see the value in War Bonds, the more relieved I am, because I really need this to work. It’s not printing money, but it’s the next best thing, and my next plans will need a hell of a lot more capital than I can raise on my own. “I can give you nine more, but that’s all, because I’ll be auctioning them in batches of ten and can’t be seen favouring any one person by giving them more. What you could do, however, is...”

After much greeting, drinking, laughing, and cavorting, the fun and games portion of the ceremony is finally over and done with as Mila and I find ourselves swamped by well-wishers arriving to congratulate us on our marriage. It’s not just my friends, but Mila’s as well, including a whole bunch of Sentinels I recognize, but am not so close with. The soldiers of my retinue are also here, including the Sentinels who were there with me in Sinuji. Charok’s friends Agadei, Kiril, Hadai, and Tuya all greet me with a clap on the shoulder, while Tomor and Mugi hug me tight. Altan does too, but only a brief hug, as he’s still a little spooked from the homo-erotically charged Spectre Cleansing which took place in Sinuji. Maral and Gansun have big smiles for Mila and curt nods for me, while Orgaal is already reeking of drink after getting a jump start on the festivities. Jigari and Abjiya are here too, looking closer than usual, and I can’t help but think love is in the air.

Best of all, Yan, Lin-Lin, Luo-Luo, and the rest of my loved ones have arrived, including Taduk and Grandpa Du who look equally sulky at not being included in the ceremony. By this point, I have shared so many drinks, I can barely stand straight, but I still hoist a cup to the two grumps as thanks, which does plenty to alleviate their scowls and leaves my wife and I free to greet my future wives. Already holding Mila’s hand, I pull Lin-Lin close so she can hug my waist and take Yan’s hand before realizing I have nothing to offer Luo-Luo, but Mila and Yan catch on and bring her into the circle. “Listen,” I begin, trying my best not to slur during such a dignified moment. “Today is my wedding with Mila. It’s too late for her, she’s my wife and I’ll never let her leave.” My blushing bride elbows me in the ribs hard enough to feel it through the thick armour, which reminds me I need to be careful later tonight. “It’s not too late for the rest of you though.”

“Not this again.” Rolling her eyes, Yan shakes her head and says, “I don’t envy you this job, Mila. You’ll have to teach him how to be a proper husband all by yourself.”

“Don’t you dare abandon me in this time of need.” Even though I can’t see her face, I can tell she’s scowling underneath the beads, with no hint of a smile at all. She’s serious about this, dead serious, even though Yan is clearly teasing. “I can’t handle him on my own. Mother knows what sort of trouble he’ll get into without all of us to keep him in line.”

The girls all share a laugh and I thank my lucky stars for finding so many lovely and loving women, while still feeling a little conflicted about having a harem. I really, really, really want one, but it’s still scary now that it’s almost here, because I love all of them, and I want the best for my wives, but the best would be one man wholly devoted to keeping them happy, which is at odds with my dream of a harem. Complicated stuff, and I have no idea how to get around it, but once again, I go with my selfish desires and don’t try to convince any of them to leave anymore.

Bidding Yan, Lin-Lin, and Luo-Luo farewell, I watch them collect all my pets away, including a wide-eyed Mama Bun struggling to free herself from Lin-Lin’s grasp, but my little wifey is relentless. Poor Mama Bun, she just wants to spend all her time with me, but today is Mila’s day, and I must reserve all my love and affection for her. Tearing my eyes away from Mama Bun, I bring my beautiful bride over to board our rickshaw, which is hitched to Mafu and Atir who look absolutely darling in their adorable silken outfits. With every eye upon us, it’s impossible to steal a kiss or cuddle, but at least I can freely embrace her from the side as we stand and wave to the crowd. “Hello, beautiful wife,” I say, whispering into her ear as we set off to distribute food and red pockets throughout the city. “Sorry about using our wedding to my political benefit. This is supposed to be your big day and all, but you’re going to hear me talk about War Bonds a lot today, because the first auction will be in three days when the Master of Coin’s seal arrives, and I want everyone to be ready and excited.”

“You apologize far too much, Husband,” Mila replies, and I can sense the love and reproach intermingling in her use of the appellation. “This is our big day, and if this benefits you, then I am supportive of it, because what benefits you, benefits me. You and I are a household now, our own little separate family.” Never before have I hated this custom of absolutely no shows of public affection, because it is all I can do to keep from kissing Mila’s cherry-red lips. “Besides,” she adds with a distracted look in her eyes, hopefully struggling with the same pressing issues as me, “We had our ceremony already. We are husband and wife now, and nothing else matters.” Her voice grows husky as she leans into my embrace and Sends, “Now I’m just waiting for tonight. I’m certain I’ve solved my... issue, and you should be in no danger at all.”

Arousing as this sentiment is, I’m also mildly terrified too, which for some strange reason, only arouses me even more. Well, not so strange when you think about, because the signs were all there from the start. I’ve always had a bit of a sadistic streak, but one can’t overlook my blatant masochist tendencies, so a restrained wife who might possibly injure me just checks all my boxes. Heh. Wife. It still feels weird to call myself someone’s husband, but it’s true.

I, Falling Rain, am a happily married sadistic masochist, with a beautiful, loving wife, who hopefully will not physically cripple me on our wedding night.

Chapter Meme