5.1

The Guests had started arriving seven days ago.

At first it was the lords of Viznove, then it was the neighboring counts and their wives. Thurzó came of course with his son and wife although his daughters stayed home.

Jewel could not say she missed any of them.

Imre was proud and brave as Alexander at that age. Assured in his safety from a dragon, what else could he fear?

It was heartening to see the boy that had been so fearful possessed of valor partly because of her.

Thurzó’s letters had said as much that his heir was even bolder and more assured than ever before with his talisman of saffron.

Count Fiebron of Zekhedge was there too, along with a woman Jewel suspected was either a recently married wife or a daughter. By sight she would have guessed daughter but her scent stood clearly distinct there.

It was strange to see the Count in something other than flying leathers. The Finery seemed less suited to the man than even Father and his prodigious height.

Furthermore if not for her nose Jewel might have mistaken him for someone else with his normally wild white hair and beard brushed and braided tight like that.

After those Jewel knew personally came the less recognizable of the counts.

Osterwick of the Eastward County of Grortovo was unknown to her, she’d not had him introduced to her in the Eyrie although finally seeing the man identified she recognized his face from amongst the milling crowd of Gryphon Lords.

He had thick black curls to his hair. Beard and mane both were trimmed short on him as many of the mere Gryphon Knights tended to. Face lined deeply as if aged and rough from harsh sun and wind.

Jewel had seen some peddlers pass through Rochford with faces like that but she did not know the meaning of it.

Grortovo was according to what she read and had seen from the air even more hill and mountain than Rochford or any lands in Zekhedge. Hugging up to the north and down south of the mountains of the Ridgetail rather than encompassing the valleys and forests of the other counties.

And after that?

Jewel had not even heard of many of the places that the guests started arriving from.

She was required as Heir of Viznove to attend and welcome them alongside the Countess Bathory, but was often left having to consult her parents after on just who she had met.

The Realm was vast, but even so some of the personage arriving for the wedding were not even vassals of the High King!

A Priest from the lands of Old Cantor itself arrived yesterday.

But the biggest upset was who stood before them now.

He had arrived with twelve fully armed and armored men as escort. Although Jewel had never seen the like of their garb or blades before.

Jewel heard murmurs among and around the court that this was only the men that had been permitted to enter Kaeketeh proper.

In the courtyard outside was another thirty!

And beyond the city itself was an encampment made beyond the outer periphery of homes and houses outside the wall!

He had traveled with an entourage of near to a thousand armed foot and attendant horse and servants.

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His encampment had been settled on fallow fields.

And of the man himself?

His skin was rich brown with a hue that spoke of much sun. His hair was dark and shining.

He smelled of very rich oils and fine perfumes over the sweat of a long time riding by horseback.

He wore his beard in a mustache.

But set upon his head was a most absurdly round wrap of palest white linen.

Adorning it were chain links and medallions of gold. Set into them were red, green and blue gems that spoke of time in their setting and even longer in distant earth and stone from one another.

His other clothes were no less rich and intricate and strange in ways Jewel had never seen before.

Obviously finery for the craft of it but it shined in places that made her think it was proper gold embroidery but some of the fabric was so sheer in places Jewel could see well through it when the light was right.

And the patterns of his clothes?

Not even the High King or Bathory wore such intricate weaving.

She would have been very curious to know who he was if not for his announcement.

The Crier had announced him as “High King Murad the First of his name, Sovereign of Magarska, Conqueror of Orestias.”

Magarska.

Jewel was not alone in shock over the announcement.

Although the Countess and some of her court were not surprised at all.

So apparently this had been planned for by some.

But still?!

The centuries long enemy of the Ridgetail Mountains! The very kingdom which had centuries ago forced the inclusion of Viznove and its neighbors into vassalage to the Realm of Cantor Reborn for aid in defense against their aggression.

The very realm that had supposedly injured the Countess’ husband so grievously in war he eventually perished four years later.

The High King of the supposed sworn enemy of her family looked upon Jewel with the same eyes that High King Mathias had held for the awful thing from the Countess Basement.

But all guest rights were being observed, and he had entered with his own strange if obviously armed and armored footmen and possibly even knights?

Jewel was not sure how to judge the strange armor.

He smiled at the Countess Bathory as was polite but Jewel could see that it did not reach his eyes.

His words were clear if slanted strangely, rolling in an exotic manner.

“I come bearing gifts, well wishes and tidings of peace for our long time and honorable enemies in Viznove and the Realm of Cantor Reborn. May we share drink, bread and words on this auspicious and joyful day and the festivals to follow?”

Elizabeth Bathory, Countess of Viznove smiled at the man that might very well have slain her husband.

And where his smile was strained hers was nothing but joyful.

“Of course! For this grand wedding and a season after I grant passage in peace for you and your people. Let this be an opportunity for us to share words, food and song instead of blades!”

Jewel was not alone in staring at the ruler of the land. Who welcomed their hated enemy like a brother.

For his part Murad barely tilted his head to Bathory at her audacious welcome. Then he turned to Jewel and met her eyes with an intensity she was all too familiar with.

“May the warm stars of the south bless your wedding oh mighty Jewel, Shining Wyrm of Viznove.”

And then he dipped his head to her!

Not a slight acknowledgement either!

But low enough his waist had to bend to follow his lowered head.

The gold of his absurd hat shifted and Jewel was sure even the courtiers could hear the metal for the silence that filled the room.

A man of rank with her own to be Liege.

Bowing to Jewel!

It took every lesson trained and honed by her parents and all her years to not flare her wings in shock.

To maintain the grace and poise of a lady.

But inside she could only scream.

Just What was the High King of their ancestral enemy doing at her Wedding?!