Those two weeks seemed to take forever. Volithur cultivated like mad, trying to distract himself from the worries in his head. The soldiers joked with him about his upcoming marriage, but otherwise he heard nothing about it. No one in a position of authority said or did anything to confirm that the ceremony would still take pce. Khana never came to see him in the barracks and he didn’t dare sneak into the main building in search of her.

  Fortunately, he received his weekly tea powder elixirs. That gave him the energy he needed to power through hours of body enhancement. He managed to complete his lower back and the rectus femoris of his quad muscles. That returned a significant portion of his athleticism to him. There was still a tendency for his knees to bend too easily, given the mismatch between the fronts and backs of his legs, but Volithur managed to account for that with a little effort.

  His fellow trainees took it somewhat easy on him in sparring, making wisecracks about him needing to look pretty for his big day or his noble bride might change her mind. Their words caused him more anxiety than an elbow to the nose ever could have. Volithur’s stress came to a head the day before his wedding. Neither the Marshal nor the Sergeant had said anything to him about what would be expected of him.

  So Volithur spoke to the clerk on duty. “Uh, Master Clerk? What is the pn for tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow? It’s a normal day, so far as I’m aware.”

  “Do you know what time am I supposed to be there? Or where there is, even?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Ward Harridan.”

  “My wedding to Khana.”

  The clerk blinked. “Oh. I forgot about your situation. I’m sure the family will send for you when the time comes to sign the certificate in the administrative offices. Disinherited nobles don’t get big celebrations for marrying below their station, after all.”

  Ego thoroughly defted, Volithur went to bed thinking all of his nerves had been for nothing. He would be married in two minutes by a bored secretary and sent back to work. The family would probably drag their feet on the dowry as well, forcing him to continue living in the barracks instead of like a married man.

  It had been a while since he abused mental cultivation to put himself to sleep, but Volithur relied on his old trick once more that night. He dragged his feet the next morning, barely finishing his rice porridge before it was time to line up for morning training.

  They began with stretches, as always. The exercises became more intense as dawn broke, until they reached the point of separating into their various groups. The Sergeant walked up front to address them on autopilot, directing them to break into their skill level groups. The only difference from every other day was that when the Sergeant finished, no one moved.

  “Well? What’s the hold up?”

  “Uh, Sergeant? Behind you.”

  Glinting in the dawn’s light, a perfectly spherical mirror grew in the sky above the estate grounds. It grew rger and rger until any doubt about who its owner might be faded away. Only one man in the entire multiverse created a transit sphere that could cast a shadow over a city.

  Watching the sight, Volithur’s heart began to pound.

  “Fickle fates,” the Sergeant cursed. “I haven’t heard anything about an upcoming raid, but sometimes things happen on short notice. Everyone, throw together your full kit and get back in formation. Don’t worry about cleaning up. The Lord General is a warrior, not a pampered noble.”

  The soldiers rushed to the barracks or back towards the city if they were part of the militia. The Sergeant frowned in Volithur’s direction. “You too, Ward Harridan.”

  “Uh, Sergeant?”

  The man folded his arms. “I know you haven’t been issued gear yet. Just grab a change of clothes. Don’t worry about anything. These outings rarely are dangerous. Mostly we pacify the unempowered popution while the powerhouses battle against the Jinn.”

  “Sergeant, today is my wedding.”

  “Look, kid, that obviously isn’t happening. They’ll reschedule for another day.”

  “Khana sent the Lord General an invitation.”

  The annoyance on the Sergeant’s face morphed into pure horror. For ten heartbeats, neither of them moved. Then the Sergeant sprinted forward to seize Volithur by the arm and pull him into a run. “We’re moving to the pace immediately. I’ll be briefing the Marshal. You’re going directly to the Casteln. Don’t under any circumstances let his underlings prevent you from informing him of the situation. Run as fast as you can, Ward Harridan. They’re te setting up for your wedding.”

  Volithur sprinted into the pace and up stairs towards the Casteln’s office. He ran into a roadblock of bodies and plowed through them, shouldering staff and nobles aside until a cable of telekinetic force extended towards him.

  Without a thought, Volithur engaged his aura and denied the attempt at restraint. He pushed aside one st ring of bodies to arrive before the Casteln, who only frowned briefly before flicking his hand dismissively. “I don’t have time for his nonsense. Throw him out of the pace.”

  “Khana invited the Lord General to our wedding.”

  The Casteln blinked a couple of times as if the words struggled to reach his mind. “You think the Lord General came here for your wedding?”

  “Master Zara carried a handmade invitation from Khana when she left.” Or so Volithur assumed. He hadn’t actually been able to follow up with his bride to know if she succeeded.

  For a few more seconds, the Casteln maintained an air of offended incredulity. Then his carefully cultivated image cracked, revealing panic. “Have you been honest about your interaction with the Lord General this whole time?”

  Whether or not it was digging himself deeper into trouble, the only response he could give was to double down on the lie. “I understand the Lord General was quite fond of my namesake,” Volithur said. “Quite fond.”

  “Merciful heavens,” the Casteln muttered. The tension of the people gathered in the corridor began to mount. “Wedding. Right. Set up the banquet hall. Have the kitchen start on celebratory confections. Whatever was pnned for dinner’s main course will have to do, but see if the cook can improve on its presentation. The tailor needs to get rough measurements for the bride and groom immediately. Break out all three wine varieties in the celr.”

  When the man paused for breath, the people who had been pointed at began squeezing through the crowd to attend to their duties. The Casteln turned to Volithur. “I can assure you that your discretion today will be vastly rewarded. Stirring up trouble would make things uncomfortable for you just as much as the rest of us.”

  “I don’t want any problems,” Volithur assured the man.

  “Good. Then let’s go meet the Lord General. Any of you who haven’t been given a specific duty should spread the word that we are having a rge celebration for the wedding and no one should forget that we have been pnning it for quite some time.”

  The crowd scattered but for a couple of nobles who moved forward to stare at the Casteln. One was Master Rowan, who cleared his throat. “Should I find my niece?”

  “That would be a fantastic idea, Master Rowan,” the Casteln said with exaggerated patience.

  It was a mere five minutes ter that they emerged from the pace towards the pce where the Lord General waited to be received with his retinue. Volithur was still buttoning up the new uniform that had been forced onto him, one simir to what the Marshal would wear, which straddled the line between soldier and noble.

  Without needing to be told, Volithur understood his mission. He was to present himself as having been treated much better than he had in reality. Presumably he would be richly rewarded for the ruse. Alternatively, everyone would be extremely upset if he brought the wrath of the Lord General down upon the Fifth Household.

  The Lord General bzed with power, but was otherwise as Volithur remembered. He was average of height and build, with sharp features and a hint of gray at the temples. Unlike st time, he was not serious. In fact, he was ughing with his men at a lewd story being told by one of the soldiers.

  “You know how Radish is! He will go along with absolutely anything. So the whore pulls her finger out of Chester’s puckering rear end and puts it in Radish’s mouth. She says ‘suck it clean, big boy’!”

  Another man leaned in. “Did he?”

  “Hell if I know, man. I was out the door the moment butt fingers started going into mouths.”

  The Lord General wiped tears away from his eye as he turned towards the party come to greet him. “Enough crass talk for the moment, men. The civilians might think less of us for it. Well met on your day of celebration, Ward Harridan!”

  “Well met, Lord General,” Volithur returned immediately, reflexes honed during cssroom etiquette lessons automatically engaging. Beside him, the Casteln wobbled on his feet.

  “None of that Lord General stuff. For today, call me Master Thrakkar.”

  Volithur bowed. “Thank you, Master Thrakkar.”

  “So formal,” the Lord General remarked.

  “It’s hard to believe this well-mannered child groped a woman in front of the family council,” the rgest man in the retinue rumbled.

  “Indeed,” the Lord General said, “what is the story behind that adventure?”

  Volithur could only assume they were talking about Khana hugging him after their marriage was approved. Judging by the rowdy attitudes of the retinue, they would not appreciate if he set the record straight. They wanted to joke around. With him, for some reason. Yet he couldn’t say anything too inappropriate. The sense of propriety instilled in him during his stay here could not be wholly ignored. It was the only thing that kept him safe most days.

  “Master Thrakkar, I forgot the walls were made of gss,” he said.

  The Lord General chuckled. “Watch out for those gss walls, men.”

  “Gss walls will get you every time,” a handsome member of the retinue said.

  “Casteln! What are the pns for the day?”

  The Casteln stepped forward and bowed. “The wedding banquet is scheduled for dinner time. Do you wish us to pull the celebration forward, Lord General?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” the Lord General said. “My forces are gathering at the Fourth Household over the next several days. War Barge Kevin is guarding a lithium mine on an unempowered world. I intend to crush the damn Jinn this time. Prepare a room for my retinue. We’ll spend some time with Ward Harridan if he has any to spare.”

  “I believe the Marshal has given Ward Harridan the day off,” the Casteln said.

  “Excellent! Be sure to collect Harridan when he is needed for the festivities. Until then, I’d like to get to know my Ward.”