The Shield of Gentem

Prologue

-So, am I getting married today?

-Yes, you are. And this time you have no choice.

Busy closing the cufflinks of his shirt, Lev Clypeus glared at his father. Potbellied, bald, he was sweating profusely, a sign of his anxiety about what was to come. Why?

-Just how many attempts is that? Five, six?

-Every time, you reject the bride like a piece of trash, Irvin hissed. Do you realize how society looks at us?

-I don't care about society's opinion. Besides, you haven't consulted me once about the bride in question. Today is no different.

Irvin returned his evil look to his son. They were in the antechamber of the cathedral, where, obviously, a good part of the nobles of the kingdom had gathered. They were all wondering what scathing remark Lev Clypeus was going to make to the former bride-to-be this time. For, if he was known to be the most handsome man in the kingdom, he was also known to be an asshole. It was easy to know if he disliked you.

And the brides, who had all thought it right not to warn him about the wedding, were hoping to get their hands on the power of the Clypeus.

Power that, unlike the other nobles, Lev's father did not possess.

As a member of the Five Protectors of the kingdom of Gentem, Lev was the sole master of the family. His father and his new wife had a hard time putting up with him. He'd be totally bummed if they didn't regularly try to play dirty tricks on him, taking advantage of his fights to make a mess of his life.

-It's different, Irvin hissed. I got you an important wedding! You must marry Vera Gladia!

Vera?

Lev suspended his gesture, frowning.

Vera was one of Gentem's Five Protectors. She was one of his best friends. And she had been on a mission for a month. There was no way she would do something like this to him, especially when she was away. So... He gave his father an evil smile.

-Vera, you say? How about that. I'm curious to see what this ball buster looks like in a wedding dress.

-Lev! Don't talk about your wife like that!

His son merely chuckled as he left the lobby.

The all-white cathedral had already seen five attempts to marry him. This one was likely to be the funniest.

Walking up the aisle covered with rose petals, Lev totally ignored the guests around him. In his gray suit, echoing his silver hair, he was imposing both by his stature and his presence. Nevertheless, it was better that none of these dogs spoke to him. His reputation as an intractable and rude character was likely to worsen.

Although, considering what he was likely to do to the bride, insulting one of these giggling matrons would not change anything.

By the way, speaking of bride... He met Vera Gladia's father, his alleged future wife. This man, dry and cold, smiled at him as he passed. Lev squinted his eyes, looking evil. He had insulted him countless times. There was no way he would agree to a marriage with his family. So what? If Vera wasn't the bride, who was?

In a bad mood, Lev looked at the latter.

In the bright light of day, she stood with her back to him, at the top of the steps leading to the altar. A quick glance told him it wasn't Vera. This ball-buster was much taller. And above all, she would have been standing in front of him, glaring at him.

Which of her sisters was it? The other Gladia's were nameless idiots. Nothing to do with the Protector of the West.

Climbing the steps four by four, Lev stood beside him, facing the priest. The latter observed him, indecisive. With a sign, he told him to start. He still had to decide what he was going to say to reject this new forced candidate for marriage.

Plunged in his thoughts, he lost the thread of the sermon. He could feel the stares on his back, ready to witness the bride's new debacle. He wished he didn't have to face her in public, but on the other hand, he had no desire to have a leech he didn't know hanging off him. He needed to be at peace at home. It was hard enough as it was. He couldn't get married and be handicapped like Rainier was.

He had lost the course of the ceremony when the priest said:

-... Gladia, do you take Lev of Clypeus, the Duke of Clypeus, the Shield of Gentem, the Protector of the North, as your husband?

Shit, he hadn't heard the name.

-I do.

This voice.

Lev turned his head sharply toward the bride. A white veil fell to her shoulders, concealing her features. No, that voice... Ignoring all propriety, he seized the thin cloth, to lift it up quickly. Surprised, the young woman turned towards him, the eyes widened. Slightly slanted, these last ones were of an intense black, piercing on its pale skin which reddened of a single blow. Highlighting the ancient lacerations that crossed her face from side to side.

In shock, Lev stared at her, his eyes also wide, while the priest resumed his speech in an uncertain tone.

Flavia Gladia.

Uneasy, the young woman returned his glance, while trying to draw down her veil, to hide herself again. She froze when a broad smile blossomed on Lev's features.

-Clypeus, Shield of Gentem, Protector of the North, do you take for your wife...

Taking Flavia's face in his hands, he did the one thing no one in the cathedral expected, including his wife.

He kissed her, in a kiss so sincere that she was stunned. When he moved away, he supported her. The shock had missed to make release its legs.

-I do, he replied to the astonished priest.