“Sometimes the wise thing to do is keep quiet and let a situation speak for itself. You, my friend, are not wise.”

~Unknown

Conversation buzzed through the air like a current of polite electricity. The field adjacent to Zetta's home grew increasingly crowded as guests arrived in droves, each adding their voice to the atmosphere as they shared greetings and well wishes. Not even the clouded skies could cast a shadow on the budding mirth. It was, finally, the day of the wedding.

The last several days had been a blur of activity. As expected, Lou’s caravan got delayed. I didn’t get the full story, but something called a ‘miniature tayhosa’ had apparently established a burrow near the edge of The Forest. Its new territory overlapped with the route the caravan planned to take which, evidently, was a problem. When I asked what a tayhosa was, the creature described to me sounded like a cross between a bear and some kind of burrowing mammal like a mole or badger or something.

Slayer intervention was required before the route was safe to travel again. The caravan gambled on a swift resolution but things took longer than they expected, hence the delay.

Gossip remained a valuable commodity, such was human nature. In a world without constant feeds of internet drama, a good story could be shared and traded for months or even years at a time. Case in point, I regularly overheard snippets of the tayhosa story being shared in exchange for anecdotes about the fueha incident, like an economy of information.

Guests who traveled with Lou mingled with the Elbura locals. It was easy to tell them apart, such that I could have managed the feat even without being a local myself. Those from Elbura wore their everyday fare. Their sturdy boots and grime-stained trousers marked them by their professions. Our out-of-town visitors wore clothing that was ostensibly more… not formal, for that would imply they dressed up special for the occasion. They wore clothing that looked more white collar as opposed to blue collar.

There were exceptions, of course. Hwan, as the town’s ‘mayor’, was also in attendance, wearing a dark green sash over his shoulder to mark the occasion. A regular stream of guests made sure to offer him their respects as part of their social rounds.

Feeling momentarily self-conscious about my own appearance, I shifted uncomfortably and resisted the urge to fiddle with the coil of delicate ivy wound around my left arm from wrist to shoulder. It signified me as an important member of the ceremony, but was otherwise the only additional adornment I was required to wear. I wore the same plain clothing I usually wore, albeit it had been freshly laundered for the occasion.

Tina wore her working trousers, Tulos donned the thick gloves he wore while felling trees. They too wore the ivy. Tulos had initially objected to it in the name of tact but Zetta, bless her, had been insistent. The relative lack of visual extravagance had confused me, at first.

Heck, I was planning a wedding before my untimely death. The thought struck me while an older woman doted on my ‘adorable’ appearance. I played the part of a bashful child and continued greeting people when they caught my eye.

When I thought of a wedding, they were formal affairs with suits and gowns and…

Nope. Those thoughts are too dangerous, especially today. I banished those musing from my mind, content to conclude that different cultures carried different values. An obvious conclusion, perhaps, but one that was sometimes easy to forget.

We wore the clothing that represented our Skills and growth, whatever form that may take. For most, it was their day-to-day clothing, and that was fine, encouraged, even. It was the best way to honor the couple and represent yourself in a way that was honest and true. I liked it.

***

A change settled over the guests as a woman emerged from Zetta’s house, moving with quiet dignity. Flowers were braided into her dark hair, as if it were the soil from which they grew. Her eyes were lined with maturity, and they captured everyone’s attention as they passed over the crowd. People parted where she walked, creating a path that meandered from one side of the crowd to the other like elegant script. Where her bare feet stepped, I could have sworn the grass stood healthier for her passing.

Like Hwan, she wore green, a skirt decorated with a dozen pockets. She was the Gardener, a spiritual pillar of the community, and it was she who would oversee the ceremony. The soft smile on her face spoke of quiet excitement for the union to come. It was hard not to smile with her.

Nurturing. That was the word. There was an aura about her, one that promised complete acceptance and a place to flourish.

It made her title all the more fitting, I felt.

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I felt a tap on my shoulder and reluctantly pulled my eyes away from the woman to see Tina standing behind me. With a quick gesture, she shepherded me to the front of the crowd, where we would stand to await Zetta and Lou, along with Zetta’s parents and the groom’s chosen supporters.

There was no music, nor any particular signal we were waiting on. The Gardener, who I only knew as such, seemed completely at ease.

Everyone was. It was a moment of quiet anticipation, and no one was to be rushed as we waited with bated breath, all eyes on the door to Zetta’s home.

I heard a few appreciative gasps when Zetta emerged, Lou’s hand firmly clasped in her own. They stood side-by-side, both an image of extravagance. For while the guests represented themselves as they were, Zetta and Lou presented themselves as they were promising to be, an exaggeration of their hopes and dreams made manifest.

Rich fabrics of vibrant colors hugged Zetta’s form, catching the limited light and reacting to its presence. Blues became purples and greens then blues again as she practically shimmered. Yet, it was not overwhelming or tacky, it was like every part of the visual spectrum decided to celebrate with us, doing all they could to capture the beauty of a woman in love as she confidently strode into the next chapter of her life.

Not to be outdone, Lou wore the finest clothes he owned, a symbol of the wealth and prosperity he promised to provide as his merchant Skills soared to new, impossible heights. Where Zetta was color, Lou was metallic sheens. Gold and silver trinkets decorated his arms, hands, ears and clothes. To see Lou was to covet the value of all he had, yet still understand that he found none of it as valuable as the love he shared with the woman with whom he walked hand-in-hand.

They must be burning through mana like crazy… The pair began a measured march down the corridor carved through the crowd by the Gardener. As they grew closer, I saw the concentration evident on their expressions, the strained smiles and furrowed brows. There was a beauty in that too, I decided. They were giving the demonstration everything they had, as they would do for each other. Their clasped hands were just as much for physical support as an expression of their emotional connection.

We all watched, transfixed, as they crossed the final distance and came to stand before the Gardener. The sheer allure radiating off of the pair started to dim as they came to a standstill as they stopped fueling whatever magics were responsible for the effect. Gone was their demonstration of the future. It was time to focus on the present.

“Let us begin,” the Gardener said warmly, and her smile welcomed us all to smile with her.

We did, for how could we not?

***

A person can taste the difference between cheeseburgers from two different fast-food restaurants, but they’re still ultimately eating a burger. Watching the ceremony, I felt a similar pang of familiarity. It wasn’t a wedding in the biblical sense, but it hit most of the same notes in its own unique way.

Whenever the Gardener spoke, her voice carried to everyone present. She guided the couple through their union as we all watched, transfixed by the significance of it all.

“May you promise to be their sunlight, to offer warmth when days grow cold.”

“May you promise to be their soil, to offer support when life’s winds grow harsh.”

“May you promise to be their water, to cleanse and revitalize when spirits grow murky.”

Zetta and Lou responded solemnly to each statement, affirming their commitments.

It’s all tied to growth and nature, I noted. The underlying theme of the local… religion? Faith? Whatever it was that united the spiritual identity of the community, it was rooted in the natural world. When one considered the magical, ethereal tree growing within most people, I couldn’t blame them for it.

***

Those of us who wore the ivy had a role to play as well.

“May you grow, not just as individuals, but as one,” the Gardener said before sweeping her arms to either side, gesturing to the two groups that represented the ‘bridal party’. “These are the people who support your growth.” She let the sentiment hang in the air for a long moment. “Are there any among you who object to this union?”

Nobody spoke up, signaling our public support of the coupling. It was also a promise of our own. In the future, if Lou came to us for help, we would assist him as if he were Zetta. Lou’s supporters, his closest friends and family, would do the same for his bride.

***

“You may now plant the seed,” the Gardener instructed. Lou reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a small, velvety pouch. From within, he retrieved a simple seed. Zetta knelt down, unbothered that it would dirty her gown. Using her hands, she scooped out a handful of dirt, leaving a small hole. Lou knelt beside her, similarly acknowledging that he would work for the marriage as he deposited the seed into the ground and covered it up.

The Gardener joined them on the ground, placing both hands over the planted seed.

“May this seed grow as your love does, flourish as your union does, and inspire you to be the best you can be.” A look of concentration crossed her features, then from between her fingers a tiny shoot of green emerged. As she withdrew her hands, the growth continued, until a small sapling stood strong and proud.

After the ceremony, it would be collected and displayed in their home. As they cared for the plant, it would serve as a reminder of their love and commitment.

“With this, you are connected. With this you are one.” In response to the Gardener’s final proclamation, Lou pulled Zetta into his arms and kissed her deeply. A chorus of celebration erupted from the crowd as we all crowed our support. They were wed, and it was time to party.