Wedding Ceremony

The sun bathed the kingdom of Judep in golden light as townsfolk awaited the seal of marriage, a kiss. Flowers mingled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted meats. Laughter and music filled the air, creating an exuberant backdrop to the momentous occasion—King Arthur's wedding to his beloved, Leslie.

The courtyard was transformed into a vibrant festival, adorned with flowers of every hue and tables laden with food and drink. The townsfolk wore their finest attire—rich, deep red and blue fabrics, lace, and embroidery showcasing the era's craftsmanship. Peasants and nobles alike mingled, their faces alight with excitement and joy. Children darted between the legs of adults, clutching pastries and chasing after butterflies that danced in the sunshine.

As the ceremony continued, Arthur stood hand in hand with Leslie at the altar, both radiant with happiness. Finally, a bishop, a venerable figure clad in ornate robes, appeared, and everyone went quiet; after a prayer, he asked King Arthur, "Do you take Lesile Kain as your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

King Arthur replied, "I do."

Then the Bishop turned to Leslie and asked, "Do you take Arthur Pendragon as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

Leslie's tears complimented her long eyelashes. Gazing into the king's eye, she answered, "I do."

He spoke softly yet gallantly, "Leslie, my love, I promise to take your hand in marriage and form a family of love that will lead us to a shining future."

The Bishop took their hands and pronounced them husband and wife, his voice echoing throughout the courtyard. Cheers erupted from the crowd, and the joyous cries of "Long live the King and Queen!" rang through the air.

King Arthur and Queen Lesile bowed.

The people, smirking, shouted, "Where is the stamp of marriage!"

Arthur and Leslie blushed; looking downward, they let out a small chuckle before kissing in front of the gathered.

Arthur lifted Leslie's hand and kissed it gently, eliciting delighted laughter from the onlookers. He turned to face the crowd, his heart swelling with pride and love. "Let us celebrate this union! Today marks not only the joining of our hearts but the strength of our kingdom!"

With those words, the festivities began in earnest. Musicians lit lively tunes, and couples began dancing, twirling in joyful abandon. Arthur joined in, pulling Leslie into his arms. The two moved gracefully across the cobblestone courtyard, lost in each other's eyes. Their laughter mingled with the music, creating an atmosphere of pure joy.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the gathering, Arthur noticed his commanders—Lancelot, Gawain, and Percival—engaged in a friendly drinking contest. They challenged one another, their laughter booming as they tipped back bottles of ale, oblivious to the world around them.

"Come, my friends!" Arthur called, beckoning them over. "Join us in the dance!"

The commanders stumbled toward the couple, their faces flushed with delight. Lancelot, the gallant knight, swept Leslie into his arms for a spin, causing her to giggle and Arthur to feign annoyance.

"Careful, Lancelot! She's my wife now!" Arthur chuckled, his heart light with joy.

As the festivities continued, the mood became increasingly lively. Nobles and peasants alike joined in the revelry, the sound of music and laughter echoing through the castle grounds. Arthur watched his people enjoying themselves, a sense of hope swelling. This day was a reprieve from the looming shadows of war.

However, amid the celebration, Lancelot's son watched from the fringes of the crowd, a brooding expression clouding his features. The young knight was torn between loyalty to his father and his own ambitions. He longed for power and resented Arthur's ascent, viewing him as an obstacle to his dreams of the throne.

Meanwhile, Mordred and the Pope met in a dimly lit corner of the church, their voices low and conspiratorial. The Pope, an intelligent man with a cunning gleam in his eyes, leaned closer to Mordred. "The King's celebration is a perfect distraction. We must seize this opportunity to ensure our plans unfold without a hitch."

Mordred nodded, his expression dark. "Arthur's joy blinds him to the dangers surrounding him. We cannot let this moment pass. We need to strike when he least expects it."

The Pope's lips curled into a smile. "Indeed. The assassin is prepared. Nightcrawler is a master of his craft. He'll execute the task with precision."

"Nightcrawler?" Mordred raised an eyebrow. "Can he be trusted?"

"Trust is not the concern. He only seeks the reward we promised. The hit list is complete. All we need is for him to strike at the right moment." The Pope handed Mordred a sealed scroll, the parchment worn and frayed at the edges. "This contains the names of those who stand in our way—Arthur's closest allies and family."

Mordred's eyes gleamed with ambition as he took the scroll, feeling the weight of power in his hands. "Once I eliminate Arthur's support, the throne will be mine."

As they plotted in the shadows, the festivities continued outside, where Arthur and Leslie danced amidst their joyful subjects. The flowers' vibrant colors and the people's laughter enveloped them, starkly contrasting the darkness lurking just beyond the castle walls.

As the night wore on, the revelers began to thin, but Arthur and Leslie remained at the heart of the celebration, their bond unbreakable. They were safe and would enjoy the love and joy that surrounded them tonight.