Under the Oak Tree Novel - Chapter 233
233 Side Story Chapter 39
The Duke of Croyso arranged for a wedding ceremony the very next day, most likely so that Riftan would not have time to change his mind.
Riftan paced around the room like a caged beast. Guilt ate away at him for the heavy burden he had placed on his men in exchange for his stepfather’s life. He would not have felt so terrible if the knights had lambasted him for his selfish decision. However, despite their fiery rage at the duke’s actions, none of the Remdragon Knights had raised a single protest.
Slumping into a chair, Riftan clutched his aching head. As commander, it was only right that he ignore his stepfather’s plight, yet he found it impossible to do so. He could not bring himself to abandon the man twice.
He squeezed his eyes shut. The memory of his stepfather silently weeping in the dark on the day of his mother’s funeral lingered in his mind’s eye. The man had given up twelve years for them. Riftan could not let him lose his life over a fake son after having finally managed to build a family of his own.
“The wedding will be held this afternoon.”
The steward arrived at noon, a throng of servants in tow, to present him with his ceremonial garb. Riftan scowled down at the velvet and silk finery, causing the servants to make hasty retreats. The steward was the only one who did not flinch.
“The high priest will preside over the ceremony, and the eastern nobles will be in attendance as witnesses. We must hurry, or we shall be late.”
The steward’s haughty stare seemed to warn that making the clergy and nobles wait for the likes of him would be highly unacceptable. Riftan snatched the garment from the steward. Although he felt as though he could tear someone apart, that someone was certainly not this scrawny old man.
“Be off with you. I can dress myself,” Riftan intoned coldly.
…..
The steward gave him a skeptical look before leaving the room with the servants. Riftan undressed, threw on the nauseating outfit, and looked in the mirror. Seeing himself in a pantomime of a nobleman made him sick to his stomach. Suppressing the urge to rip the attire to pieces, he tore his gaze away.
Another knock came at the door. Strapping his sword to his waist, Riftan stepped into the corridor where the duke’s knights were waiting. All of them were clad in full armor.
“We are to escort you to the chapel.”
Riftan gritted his teeth as the knights led the way to the chapel within the castle. The scene felt more akin to jailors hauling a prisoner to the dungeons. A silent barrage of curses poured through his head, calling for misfortune on everyone and everything the duke touched — his vassals, his servants, and all his associates.
When he entered the chapel and his gaze landed on Maximilian Croyso at the altar, all such thoughts vanished like snow melting in the sun. Only her back was visible, but the sight still made him freeze at the entrance. She wore an ivory gown as pale as her complexion. His eyes wandered down her white nape, svelte back, and tiny waist.
The silvery train of her wedding dress rippled like clouds across the marble floor, and pearls gleamed from her elegantly pinned, rose-colored hair. His heart constricted at the vision of breathtaking beauty.
He let out an agonized moan. It was unfathomable how he could feel this way even in such a humiliating situation. Turmoil, desire, and guilt filled his mind.
“Make your entrance,” the knights urged when Riftan remained rooted to the floor.
He slowly made his way up the crimson carpet. Nobles sat in the surrounding pews, their gazes full of pity and derision. Ignoring their stares, Riftan took his place beside Maximilian. She looked up at him warily with clouded gray eyes.
Her fragile vulnerability made him feel as though he were falling down a bottomless pit. Even a sacrificial offering to the demon king would not have looked so pitiful.
Tumultuous waves of anger and sadness rose inside him. Would she have looked so terrified if it had been another man beside her? He felt a twinge of resentment at the thought. He wanted to point out that he did not wish for this either. However, he knew that was a lie.
Standing behind the pulpit, the high priest announced in a solemn voice, “We shall now begin the ceremony.”
Ignoring Maximilian, Riftan approached the altar. When they were standing side by side, the high priest began to read the Holy Scripture in a low voice.
Riftan kept his eyes fixed ahead on the angel sculpted into the altar. Beside him, Maximilian pressed against his awareness like an inferno threatening to burn him to ashes. Her sweet scent filled his lungs with every inhale, and it nearly drove him mad every time her loose sleeve brushed his hand.
“Do you, Riftan Calypse, take this woman, Maximilian Croyso, as your lawfully wedded wife, and swear before God that you will protect and cherish her for the rest of your life?”
Riftan looked up. Everyone seemed to be waiting with bated breath for his answer.
“I do,” he said, the words coming out strangled.
“Do you, Maximilian Croyso, take this man, Riftan Calypse, to be your lawfully wedded husband, and swear before God that you will obey him for the rest of your life?”
Riftan felt Maximilian’s body tense up like a string on the verge of snapping.
“I-I… do,” she replied in a thin voice.
Riftan turned his head away and willed himself not to look at her. At last, the high priest pronounced them man and wife, and the witnesses rose to their feet in applause. Everything felt surreal. As he watched the guests head toward the banquet hall, Riftan wiped his damp palms on his trousers. He found himself lost for words.
“Why are you dawdling? The wedding reception awaits.”
Having noticed Riftan standing like a stone statue, the Duke of Croyso sauntered over, wearing a despicable smile. The look Riftan gave the duke was one of open hostility.
Unaffected, the duke calmly met his gaze. “I am sure you’re aware, but this union is not yet official. I believe you will keep your word till the end.”
Riftan ground his teeth, not caring if they shattered. He was certainly aware that the marriage would not be binding until it was consummated after the reception. He begrudgingly followed the duke to the banquet hall. Though he sensed Maximilian quietly trailing behind him, he could not muster the courage to look at her. He had no desire to see her so miserable.
Seated at the banquet, Riftan obligingly downed the wine the duke poured for him. As the day grew into night, the Remdragon Knights walked into the banquet hall. Spotting Ursuline motioning to him, Riftan excused himself from the table of nobles. Ursuline looked around for a quiet place to talk, and they made their way over to an empty corner.
Once they were at a safe distance from prying ears, Ursuline said cautiously, “The men you sent to the village found your stepfather’s wife.”
Riftan’s face hardened. “Is she safe?”
“She was terribly frightened but did not appear to be harmed. The little girl is likewise safe.”
Riftan let out a sigh of relief. He would not have been able to forgive himself if anything had happened to them.
“Where are they now?”
“The knights are protecting them.” After a pause, Ursuline added, “Will you truly consummate the marriage?”
The mention of the uncomfortable subject made Riftan’s shoulders stiffen. When he did not reply, Ursuline spoke again.
“There might be another way. If we ask His Majesty for—”
“My stepfather will be hanged before a messenger reaches Drachium,” Riftan cut in, regarding Ursuline with gloomy eyes. “Do not worry. I won’t let you and the others be dragged into this. Once the marriage is consummated, I will step down from my post.”
Ursuline looked dumbfounded. “Preposterous! Are you saying you will go into the Lexos Mountains alone?”
“I can petition the duke for soldiers.”
“We both know that man would only spare you a few hundred of his most incompetent!” Ursuline exclaimed. “And even if he were to provide you with a proper army, the duke’s men will not obey you. You will certainly be left to fend for yourself.”
“Then that is my problem!”
“Your problems are our problems!” Ursuline shot back. “If you step down as commander, the others will return to being mercenaries or be integrated into the royal knights. Either way, it would mean the end of our order. Will you force that fate on us?”
Riftan’s hand tightened around his goblet. He had known what his decision would mean for the Remdragon Knights, but he considered it better than forcing them to take part in a campaign that would cost them their lives.
Seemingly reading his mind, Ursuline said, “We are knights. We gave up all hope of dying peacefully in our beds the moment we took up that mantle. If you decide to fight in the Dragon Campaign, then it is our duty to join you.”
“That may be so for you, but you cannot speak for the others,” Riftan said, slamming his goblet down. “If my stepping down will be a problem, I’ll send word to Lord Triton. I’ll ask everyone for their opinion and make sure those who wish may join the royal knights. The Dragon Campaign will be perilous. I will not have you and the others risk your lives because of me.”
Ursuline opened his mouth to retort when the Duke of Croyso’s voice came from behind.
“What could possibly be causing such ire on this joyous day?”
Ursuline’s face flushed with anger. Riftan quickly interceded before his comrade’s fiery temper could pour forth all manner of obscenities.
“It was a private discussion about matters regarding our order.”
His tone was cold as if to tell the duke it was none of his concern.
The duke smirked. “How upsetting to hear from my son-in-law.”
Instead of replying, Riftan looked back at the duke with contempt.
The duke’s displeasure was evident in his frown, but he soon shrugged and said, “Well, no matter. Come, it is time for you to join your bride in the bridal chambers. How long do you intend to keep her waiting?”
The Duke of Croyso motioned to the staircase lined with candles. Riftan’s back broke out in a cold sweat. Gripped by a nervousness he had never felt before, he gulped past his dry throat.
