Mirabelle had dwelled on the thoughts for some time since Tienette left. After about six seasons, the time for her sister’s wedding came. It was decided that after the wedding, she and her entourage would leave for Vouivre. There would be no returning home for her. She knew that going in, and she had been able to collect a few things to take with her. Most importantly, she had decided it was for the best. A few weeks with her sister, and then a year in the province of her ancestor’s enemy to see if she could even go through with her own wedding.
For those few weeks, she concentrated on Roheis, though. She traveled with her, spoke to her, watched her as her nerves ran rampant. The journey was long, but as soon as they were free of their father’s eyes, the girls were quick to be themselves.
Roheis had grown up into a tall, slender woman. She was like her siblings in that she had her stark white hair, and her eyes were a pale clouded gray. It gave a strange look to her face, one that had a certain etherealness to it, but a deep and sometimes disturbing look of distance. Her eyesight, however, was not poor or diminished. Quite the opposite. She had been blessed with an astonishing sight. Unlike Mirabelle, she had not shown an aptitude for courtly intrigue, and after much convincing her father relented to allow her to train with more martial affairs.
It worked out well, though. Her martial prowess caught the eye of a nearby family who had a son seeking a bride. With old ties between the two families, it was fortuitous, to say the least. Roheis had even been lucky enough to meet him a few times before the arrangement was finalized. They even had started a sort of friendly relationship. Though, thanks to tradition, that ended when their marriage was announced. She felt an entirely different sort of anxiety from her sister as they prepared for her wedding. She looked forward to her arrangement.
Her husband to be was Marquis Ghislain Girardin de Tirmont. He was the only son of the Girardin family and inherited his father’s lands and rank young. There was no way around describing him as perhaps the best of men. He was kind, generous, selfless, and the epitome of chivalric. He was powerfully built, and handsome – with bright golden hair and deep green eyes. He was an experienced and renowned knight, a champion jouster. The list could go on, and on. To his credit, one would never have guessed he would have had that many accomplishments under his belt by talking to him. He was humble, and genuinely more interested in others than himself. Still, for Mirabelle, it was hard not to dislike him a little bit because of it. Or maybe she was just upset that she was betrothed to some vagabond, and her sister was bound to the epitome of Republic chivalric thought.
Envy did not particularly suit her, though, and she would chase away the thoughts as soon as she could. Instead, concentrating on the excitement her sister showed. The wedding was small, and a relatively private affair, however. It took place in the Tirmont Castle, overlooking their small province. A priest, some family, and a few friends of the bride and groom, and that was it. Then it was over, and everyone went their separate ways. Including Mirabelle.
She spent the next few weeks on the road, with a mere handful of attendants. Coralie came with her, as did her long-time personal bodyguard, a templar by the name of Sir Avent Bastien. Bastien was not the largest or most powerfully built man. He was not a young man. He had served as her bodyguard from the time she was born, his sole duty to protect the children of the house of Lune. He was getting older now, his hair graying and face beginning to show the wrinkles and marks of age. His skill with a sword had not been needed for a long time, and she hoped it would stay that way. She had a handful of other servants and guards with her as well.
Much of the journey was pleasant, as it was still late spring. They passed through Ava and into the great fields of the Licorn banner lords. Their lands were untamed, but the Licorn respected the Ava, and by association the people of Cote d’Argent – so for a young noble on her way to wed, they were sure to keep the way clear and safe. It was an uneventful journey. They rarely even saw the Licorn riders, a fact that Mirabelle was a bit disappointed with, by the time they reached Vouivre territories.
As they crossed the border into the territories of Vouivre, she felt that the very plants and sky changed. Everything seemed darker and colder. The looming mountains in the distance likely didn’t help things either. It was sparsely populated along the roads. They rarely passed by peasants or traders, and when they stopped in various villages, it was quiet and often people treated them with suspicion or distrust. It was a long journey still for them, as the Astier were a border family. She spent much of her time there in the carriage, partly due to the anxiety of the event, but partly due to her view of the countryside around her.
After weeks of journeying, they finally arrived in the evening, just as dusk was beginning to set in and she was called by Bastien.
“My lady d’Argent. We’ve arrived at the frontier village of Mileo.” His gruff voice bellowed back towards her.
It almost startled her, but she didn’t say anything back for a moment. Coralie, on the other hand, was quick to sit up and move about the carriage, collecting items for her lady. For a moment, she watched and finally nodded, “Thank you, Bastien. Let us know when we reach the manor.”
“With all due respect, Lady Mirabelle, you may want to see this.” The old man’s voice. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
She sighed and shook her head. She moved to the carriage door and pushed it open, the mounted templar catching it as it opened. Their group continued moving, and she glanced out to him. With a gauntlet covered hand, he pointed out towards the village that they approached. She turned, and for the first time her eyes fell on the place, and it took her breath away.
Along the road, there were two great willows marking the border of the town. They were enormous trees, who’s branches reached out over the road and created an almost natural arch. Dangling willow branches were scattered throughout the arch and hanging from some of the branches were small lanterns, flickering lightly in the wind. As she looked about, the lanterns were everywhere in the village that she could see. They hung from the eaves of houses and shops, from the trees and paths, illuminating the way for weary travelers.
Below the trees though, were the banners of her house – the silver crescent on a blue shield supported by white stags on either side. The full coat of arms of her house hung under the willows’ branches, with small versions hanging from countless buildings. The people of the village had gathered to see her arrive as well. Not the nobility, the people. As the first spotted her out of her carriage she heard a cheer. The cheer grew, and people shouted. She could barely hear them, but it was impossible for her to miss the words Fille de Lune. They were certainly waiting for her.
She glanced at Bastien, who merely smirked at her. “I think they’re excited to have you, my lady.”
“Why?” She asked, but she never got an answer. A horse rode to meet them and Bastien spurred his own on to meet the rider.
“Hail, travelers! Welcome to Milae.” The chain mail-clad rider spoke, putting a fist to his chest in salute, as the other hand held tight the reins of his steed.
“Hail, rider,” Bastien called back as he road to meet him. “I am Sir Bastien, templar of Lune, and protector of Lady Mirabelle d’Argent. We are here at the invitation of Marquis and Marquise Astier.” He spoke.
“Wonderful! We’ve been expecting you and hope your travels have been pleasant and uneventful. I am Ervig de Milae, the Astier family has allowed me to act as the steward of this village, and I am honored to serve as Captain of her militia.” He spoke proudly, waving back to the village. “Our people wished to welcome the lady themselves. I hope that isn’t a problem. They don’t grasp the security problems that presents.”
“No, I think it is a good sign.” Bastien spoke frankly, “Though, it has taken my lady aback, it seems.”
“I feared it may be a bit -,” Ervig was surprised when he saw Mirabelle wave a hand.
“It is a bit much,” Mirabelle called out from the carriage. “I want to walk from here.” She was not asking, she was doing. She stepped out of the carriage and onto the dirt path below. Coralie jumped out after her and fell into line.
“My lady, we’re honored. But for your security,” Ervig spoke swiftly, noticing the templar shaking his head and starting to dismount.
“Is it unsafe?” She asked as she approached the front of the line and began to pass the horses.
“Yes, any situation with this many people can be dangerous.” Ervig watched as she passed by him, and then he seemed to panic a bit. Her templar had not even caught up with her yet, and she was walking down the road towards the mass of villagers. He swallowed and quickly dismounted, barely getting off the horse before the old man had stepped past him as well. “In addition, you are a daughter of the Duc du Cote d’Argent… we are on the border.”
She was not listening, instead, she set her pace faster. Coralie and Bastien kept pace with her, with the rest of her guards following suit with the horses and carriage. Ervig rushed to catch up with her. She didn’t know what to do, but she had decided she wanted to know why these people came to meet her, why they were excited. It was, perhaps, dangerous. If they were to be her people though, she wanted to start off right. Or at least, what she thought of as right.
As she approached, the crowd seemed to grow a bit less boisterous if only out of surprise. She slowed a bit at that but then moved forward to the first of the villagers that met her eye and stepped forward. It was a young mother holding a child. She gave a warm smile, and the mother gave as low a bow as she could.
“My lady, you honor us.”
“No, no,” Mirabelle said softly. “You honor me. I didn’t expect any fanfare or welcome – much less to see your home lit up with my colors.”
“We want you to feel at home, my lady,” The mother said with a little bit of a crack in her voice as nerves caught up to her. Around her, others tried to but into the conversation, and Mirabelle seemed to adjust and respond to as many as she could.
“We brought in foods from your homeland,” A local cook called out.
“Our minstrels have learned your songs,” Another person added.
“We even planted flowers from the Coast in gardens around town,” There were so many more words cast to her though.
Mirabelle gave a smile and finally replied. “Thank you all.” She raised her hands, “I don’t know how to repay you.” She admitted, “But, I also want to know your culture. Your foods, your songs, your flowers.” She gave a warm bow. “After I’ve settled in, I hope you’ll allow me to get to know those things with you. For now, this will…” She nodded, “This will help me feel at home.”
“We’re glad, my lady.” The mother spoke to her quickly.
“We hope it will be your home,” Ervig admitted from behind. “Someday.”
“Ervig, Bastien,” Mirabelle turned back towards them. “I’d like to walk to the manor. Can you order the carriage to follow at a distance? And Ervig, please introduce your people as you can.”
They did as ordered, and for the next few hours, the lady and her entourage made slow progress through the village. They met and spoke with so many villagers. She never lost her spirit and spoke to so many guests her voice threatened to fail her. Eventually, though, the end of the crowd was reached. While many still played music and cheered behind her, they did seem to stop following at the gates of the manor house.
Valamir and Tienette were standing at the doors of the manor when she arrived, flanked by their personal guards and a few manor guards. They were still masked, but they seemed different. Maybe it was the conversations she had during all those nights with Tienette. Neither were dark unknown figures. They were like her, and like the people of the village, they were excited to see her.
Tienette spread her arms and stepped out to greet her, foregoing the normal noble greeting of a bow, and offering a more familial expression. “Mirabelle, it is good to see you well,” For whatever reason, Mirabelle was excited to see her, and fell into her arms – and the two embraced like family.
“It is good to see you as well, Tienette,” Mirabelle replied hoarsely.
“My lady, please,” Bastien spoke swiftly, before bowing to the lord of province. “Forgive her familiarity, my lord. She has had a long day.”
Valamir laughed at the templar, “No, no. She has earned it.” He offered a hand out to the man, “We are genuinely glad to have her, and her attendants with us. You are?”
“Sir Avent Bastien,” Bastien spoke as he took the hand and stood.
“A templar. Vedast was worried about dark magic?” Valamir spoke quietly.
“No, sir. Not that I am aware of. When I was a young squire, I had visions of a white stag. One night, it led me to the Temple. It was the night Lady Mirabelle was born. I saw the stag again for nights after. It was never far from her.”
“Gods. That’s a clear sign.” Valamir smiled as he put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I am not a devout follower of Lune, but even I can understand that one. Bessus doesn’t have as good a story for me.”
“I do not, sir.” The Marquis personal guard said from nearby.
Tienette and Mirabelle had been talking for a few moments when the Marquise started to guide her into the manor. Mirabelle stopped her though, “Marquis, I did not mean to leave you out of the greeting. I am glad to see you as well.”
“No need to worry, my lady,” Valamir said with a dismissive wave. “I’m elated that you were excited to see Tienette. I know I still have a long while to earn that sort of greeting from you.”