Chapter 3: Prologue: Wedding Ceremony, Escape! – Part 3

It was faster than Lyzander wished for but it was already late in the evening before his turn arrived. He was last in line and finally, no one else stood in front of him with Glint departing the altar. Despite his protests about sourpuss Skraggle, Glint looked exceptionally happy with his new brides, causing Lyzander to involuntarily chuckle and grin at the younger Halfling’s joy.

Lyzander kept his eyes locked forward as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He knew it came from Deliel and Merelith glaring daggers into the back of his head from across the town square. The pair of soon-to-be brides stood shoulder-to-shoulder silently glowering at the biggest source of frustration in their lives.

He tugged uncomfortably at the too-tight ceremonial marriage attire. It was an heirloom used by each of the males from his family on their wedding days, consisting of the city’s colours, usually a soldier’s uniform. For Hazelhaven, that was an elaborate blue tunic and a red cap. Lyzander was much older than expected for a Halfling to reach adulthood, which was why the outfit strained against his larger frame.

The last to wear it was his youngest brother many years beforehand, much to the ridicule of his peers. Resulting in the majority of his friends and family severing ties and avoiding him in public.

“Lyzander!” his first-mother hissed from her seat among the Women’s Council next to the altar, breaking his reverie.

Lyzander heavily sighed and straightened his tunic under the mocking gazes of the crowd. The resolutely ignored their eyes and set his jaw while puffing his chest and proudly marching forward. Seeing him move, his betrothed stepped out from where they waited, urged on by their first-mothers. They escorted them to join him on either side once he stopped at the designated position.

He finally allowed himself to relax and snuck at the glance at each of the women standing beside him.

I have to admit they are both extremely beautiful. I can see why other men are envious of me, they are truly breathtaking. Even better, they’re all dressed up with their chests on full display for me to see.

His gaze shifted down to inspect their generously displayed cleavage, his manhood stiffening in response as his heart began to race. The woman to his left was Deliel, his to-be first-wife. She was dressed in the traditional white attire of the leader of the household. She had an alluring and captivating appearance.

Her bone-white hair cascaded in soft, silken locks down over her delicate and curvaceous figure. Deliel carried herself with self-conceited confidence and gazed at him like a predator eyeing its prey.

To his right, was Lyzander’s to-be second-wife garbed in the traditional green. Merelith’s captivating silhouette was emphasized by her pronounced hips and slender build. Golden hair flowed to her mouth-watering waist in curled waves. She licked her lips as she playfully looked him over, making him shudder in anticipation at her enticement.

The pair were the vision of beauty, captivating the gathered men among the crowd. Lyzander noticed more than one man giving him dirty looks and death glares, which included the married Halfling men waiting beside their new brides. He saw that Glint was one of the more envious. His new second-wife, Skraggle, crossed her arms in front of her ample chest with a dark expression before digging her elbow into his side.

Lyzander brought his attention to the officiate in front of him with an insuppressible sense of satisfaction at the crowd’s reaction. He had endured their unconcealed mockery for too long. The officiate hesitated and looked at the Women’s Council seated on the podium behind him, resting his gaze on Lyzander’s first mother. She gave a slight nod in response.

It seems my fate in unavoidable. They’re both obsessed with me, chasing away any other girls that got close to me. They never even glanced at other men and waited just as long as I have, what gives?

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The officiate raised his staff and lightly tapped both his wrists. Magic swirled around him, Lyzander’s eyes unconsciously followed the air current, perfectly predicting the trajectory of the chaotic movement. He also knew how the officiate’s staff would trace the arcane runes.

It wasn’t understanding the ritual, which he had after seeing it the first time all those years ago as a child that got him selected for the Arcane Academy. It was because the Halfling's ‘luck’ trait for processing information was hyperactive within him. His eyes saw and subconsciously understood all the subtle intricate movements of muscles and objects.

It didn’t stop there, he could sense it so strongly that occasionally he would see hovering lines and calculations imposed on everything around him.

The crowd burst into uproarious laughter and Lyzander’s sense of satisfaction was entirely short-lived. The officiate’s mouth creased into a dissatisfied frown at their reaction and Lyzander hesitantly looked up. His face turned bone-white and he tried to retreat down the steps, stumbling and falling to the bottom as the laughter grew louder. Even Daeliel hid involuntary giggles behind their hands.

He climbed to his feet and glared at the glyphs coming toward him. They described the reason each girl was selected for him. Those less knowledgable outsiders in the crowd turned to their Halfing neighbours and asked what it read. Lyzander was able to overhear their words repeating through the mass.

Chosen for her no-nonsense attitude and ability to reign in intractable behaviour. Chosen for her ability to subdue unruly individuals and enlist the aid of others to keep him in line. Now I have the answer for why the Master of Ceremonies was hesitant. First-mother is ruthless, she didn’t even sugarcoat it all. Fuck this.

The glyphs flew unerringly toward him standing motionless at the centre of the crowd’s mocking, his head cast low. The moment of climax arrived when the runes would settle on his wrist and the unexpected suddenly happened. His eyes flew upward and his body jolted at an unnatural angle, causing the extremely fast magic to miss.

The crowd’s laughing faltered, unable to believe what happened, penning it up to chance. But it happened again, this time the glyphs had a shorter distance to travel and still missed, flying passed his wrists as they jolted out of the way. The runes overshot their mark before springing back towards him.

He darkly scanned over the crowd with a grim expression, simultaneously meeting the gazes of the loudest mockers as he shifted out of the way, silencing them. The magic seemed to become agitated, its glow growing in intensity and its movements grew faster, more erratic and unpredictable.

Eventually, he was unable to move from his spot as the circle became more restricted. The crowd was silent now as his straight arms were plastered against his hips, relying on only his shoulder movements to dodge. Children and adults alike stared agape in wide-eyed wonder as he continued to sway and evade the tireless runes.

“Lyzander!” his first-mother roared, lurching out of her seat to reprimand him. The shout caused Lyzander to pause for only a moment but that was all the magic needed to catch him.

A few hesitant laughs sounded from the crowd but quickly fell silent as he spun to confront them with bared teeth and a face contorted in rage and embarrassment.

Without waiting to be dismissed, Lyzander threw his red cap on the cobbles and turned on his heels to storm into the crowd. Everyone scrambled to get out of his way at his approach. He stopped to exhale and calm his trembling hands after escaping the crowd and feeling anonymous once more.

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