The weekend came, and I received the report from the city coming from Kent and his knights.

Things were doing better than I’d expected.

Our secret weapon had begun to stir the pot. Kent had met with the noblemen in the morning, and the pamphlets had come up. Naturally, Virna and Larendo were incensed. Kent reportedly made up some stories about sightings by his hunters and scouts, west of our location, vowing that he’d find rebellious activity. It was great to know that they believed him, but I worried we didn’t have enough time to keep up the ruse.

Alynna and I would have to hurry up and find some alliances before things got heated. Or else, we’d have to flee altogether.

Aside from that, as the priests had agreed, we had everything ready for a small, improvised wedding. This was going to be Alynna’s big day. And Lariel’s. And mine, of course.

Attendants came for me and assisted me with what the noblemen of the era would have regarded as regal attire. The fact that it was supposed to be fine enough for a wedding was reassuring. In America, this would’ve been seen as a cheesy attempt at larping, or at best, a handsome character from a shoujo manga set in the period.

I chose a burgundy jacket, matching trousers, both with gold embroidery, and a white shirt of lace that puffed at my neck.

And a steppe warrior like Alynna had certain wedding traditions she wanted me to respect.

Alynna had told me some of the things to say and do. Most of them came as a surprise, but now, I was all dressed up and led by Zyra down into the gardens at noon, expecting to find everyone sitting and waiting for me to march down the aisle and meet the bride. Instead, I found a large canopy that I had no idea where they’d gotten. It looked more like a yurt. Yeah. Where had they found that? Had it been stolen from one of those barbarian raids from decades ago? Everyone in the castle, including the elves, was seated inside in front of Kent’s tables, all mumbling to themselves, some chuckling.

Nidar was standing at the entrance, arms behind his hips like a guard dressed in elven silks.

I walked over, expecting him to let me through. Instead, he stared at me and spoke in a shockingly loud voice.

“Connor Reagan McKinley. You dare try to take my sister’s hand. Prove to me that you’re worthy of their love!”

I cocked my head. “What?”

Alynna hadn’t mentioned having to face his brother. Her briefing had been on what to say during the actual ceremony.

Nidar leaned in and spoke in an awkward whisper. “For their hands, Lord Tactician. It's a steppe tradition. I’m representing their brother. I’m Lariel’s actual brother, by the way, though we’re not that close, and Alynna, well, her brother couldn’t be here, so I’m a stand-in. You’ve got to challenge me.”

“Ah,” I muttered. “Right.” I cleared my throat.

I straightened my shoulders, trying to channel whatever authority I could muster. Nidar stood firm again, arms crossed, his expression a blend of solemnity and mischief. The large canopy behind him fluttered in the breeze, giving the whole scene an almost theatrical feel.

“I, uh…” I began, stumbling slightly over my words. “I challenge you, Nidar, for Alynna’s hand in marriage. And Lariel. Your sisters.”

Nidar raised a hand to his chest dramatically, as if deeply moved. “Ah, a noble challenge! But do you think yourself worthy of my sisters, the fierce warrior Alynna—sister-in-combat? And Lariel, sister of elven blood? Both of them are archers worthy of legend and women of virtuous disposition. Who are you?”

“I like to think so,” I said, trying to play along. “But what must I do to prove it?”

Nidar grinned wickedly. “Defeat me in the Trial of the Three Virtues.”

I cleared my throat.

“I accept the challenge, brave sir elf.”

Before I could process what was happening, Nidar produced a small wooden staff and tossed it to me. Then, with a flourish, he drew his own staff—an ornate piece carved with runes. This didn’t look elven at all.

“The first virtue is agility!” Nidar exclaimed, taking a fighting stance. “You must defeat me in combat!”

“Oh, come on—”

But before I could protest, he lunged at me, spinning his staff in an arc that I barely managed to block. The gathered guests burst into laughter and cheers, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Fight, fight, fight!” a female voice chanted from inside, much too youthful—probably Ina.

I sighed and swung at the staff, doing my best to look like I was taking this seriously. Nidar danced around me, clearly holding back but making a show of “besting” me. I took a quick swipe at his legs, and he yelped, pretending to stagger.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Very well!” he announced dramatically, stepping back. “You have passed the first virtue… barely.”

I caught my breath, lowering the staff. “What’s next?”

“The second virtue is tradition. So that you continue in the pride of our Arcanian sisters. Even if they marry a man from another tribe, he must respect and be a part of her family.”

“I am ready, brave sir elf.”

Nidar declared, gesturing to one of Kent’s kitchen staff, who stepped forward carrying a wooden cup filled to the brim with a frothy, off-white liquid. The sharp, sour smell hit me immediately, like curdled milk with a faint alcoholic tang.

“You know what this is, don’t you?” Nidar asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, remembering a layover in Kazakhstan. “Brings back some memories.”

Nidar giggled. “Kumis. Made fresh from Kent’s favorite mare. It is a sacred beverage of strength and survival among Alynna’s people. You must finish the entire cup.”

The crowd murmured in anticipation, some wincing knowingly. I could tell that Alabenians weren’t really into that kind of drink.

I took the cup, its surface bubbling slightly. My first hesitant sip hit my palate like a slap: sour cream mixed with weak champagne, undercut by a strange, gamey aftertaste that made my stomach churn. As I swallowed, the faint carbonation fizzled unpleasantly, and the warmth of its mild alcohol content only added to the discomfort.

The crowd roared as I struggled through the rest, each gulp harder than the last. My throat burned slightly from the acidic tang, and my face twisted involuntarily.

“You have endured!” Nidar bellowed, clapping me on the back as I finally finished, gasping for air. “But the night is young, and the trials grow fiercer!”

“What’s the final virtue, gatekeeper? I’m not afraid!” I asked, bracing myself and wiping my chin with my palm.

Nidar smirked. “The third virtue is devotion. You must declare your undying love for Alynna… in song. Lariel has said that this doesn’t apply to her. It makes her cringe.”

The crowd erupted into laughter and applause as a small lute was handed to me. I turned toward Zyra, sitting close to the yurt’s entrance. “Please tell me this is a joke.”

“Not even a little,” she said, smirking.

The crowd started chanting. Sing, sing, sing, with Kent standing up from the canopy and handing Nidar a lute, then the elf giving it to me. Really?

I had taken a handful of guitar lessons, so I could play some chords. But I had no idea about the tuning of this lute. The instrument was beautiful, though—pear-shaped, with a rounded wooden back and a carved rosette around the soundhole.

With no other choice, I plucked two strings to find out their interval. I found a chord that sounded, at least, not terribly off-key, muttering to myself before belting out an improvised and terribly off-key ode to Alynna’s battle prowess, her sword, and her love of cheese.

It sounded too much like a cheesy freestyle rap number by a guy who only dreamed of making it big. I didn’t want it to be heard ever again.

By the end, the crowd was roaring with laughter and applause, and Nidar stepped aside, bowing low. “You have proven yourself worthy, Lord Tactician. Go claim your brides!”

As I stepped past him, Alynna and Lariel emerged from the opposite end of the canopy.

Both were grinning ear to ear, cheeks flushed with laughter. Alynna wore traditional makeup—beautiful shades of purple over her eyes and a strong rosy blush on her cheeks, her lips thick and juicy, painted with deep red makeup. She wore beautiful purple silk, revealing generous cleavage and a golden sash around her hips, golden bracelets, as well as a richly ornamented conical headdress of the same color, with tiny bells that tinkled as she moved. I wondered how they’d find it, but I assumed that despite the Alabenian’s rivalry with the steppe nomads, trade and mutual influence were a thing.

Lariel looked adorable with braids tied around her forehead and most of her curls let loose beneath. She wore a golden dress of elven silk, simple but beautiful, with a cut in her dress revealing a side of her legs.

I moved forward, their hands reaching out to mine. Was this really happening? Two gorgeous, amazing women willing to make promises of love to me, and expecting me to do the same?

Vhandos emerged, wearing his green toga and a round felt hat over his head, while the attendants quieted and their attention focused on us.

“You really sang about cheese?” Alynna whispered in my ear, chuckling. “My groom really knows me well.”

“I panicked,” I admitted.

The ceremony itself was simple but heartfelt. Priest Vhandos had a lot of fun. This tradition was present in the Church of Aria as well, where they brought a mauve band, representing Aria’s colors, tying our wrists together with a braided cord as we exchanged vows. He tied it around my wrist, Lariel’s, and Alynna’s.

“Lady Alynna of Arcania and Lariel of the Verdant Court, do you promise, under Aria’s protection, to bind your hearts to Connor McKinnley, from Earth. The United States of Ame-ri-k-ah? To be his, and for his heart to be yours entirely?”

“I do,” said both girls in unison.

“Connor McKinnley. Do you promise to bind your heart to Lady Alynna of Arcania and Lariel of the Verdant Court, be a loyal protector, a fierce defender, and a devoted lover?”

“I do,” I said.

“You may kiss the brides.”

“I go first!” Alynna said, jumping into my arms, while the attendants erupted in cheers and laughter.

As the sun began to set, the celebration turned to feasting, eating freshly hunted boar roast from Kent’s lands, dancing, and endless toasts. My mind buzzed with all the wine and spiced beer.

It turned out Kent was quite the lute player.

I got the chance to dance with both my wives. But after a while, Alynna whispered in Lariel’s ear, and the gorgeous elf left us alone.

“Can’t wait for tonight, my love,” Alynna said, her hands around my shoulders as I showed her how to slow dance, with one hand on her back and the other holding her palm. It looked quite scandalous to the attendants and drew a few comments, despite being the tamest dance in my world, especially compared to the cheesy whirling and 14th-century line dances everyone else was engaged in.

“Neither can I,” I said.

Man, she was gorgeous.

I wanted her so bad.

Tonight, all our fantasies with each other would come true. I couldn’t wait to please her and hoped I could be up to what she’d always dreamed.

“You haven’t forgotten the final tradition, have you?” Alynna asked, her voice low but gleeful.

I blinked at her, my head still spinning slightly from the combination of spiced wine and kumis. “Final tradition?”

Her grin widened. “To rescue me. It’s barbarian law. You must prove your love tonight. I’ll be in my quarters, guarded by Zyra, Nidar, and everyone else. This time they won’t let you go so easily.”

I groaned. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. “This is important. It’s how we know you’re willing to fight for you, even when she doesn’t need you to. It used to be a mock kidnapping, though.”

Now this sounded kinda bad. I was aware of such traditions in some countries. If it was a mock kidnapping, turning it into a rescue might be a good way to deal with a very messed-up tradition.

“Do we need to?” I asked.

“Yes, it’ll be fun!” she said with a wink, leaning in and giving me another passionate kiss.