As expected, the elders' cronies were on Allen's doorsteps, and although they acted politely, it was clear they wouldn't take a 'no' for an answer. Their masters had requested that the tribal chief and his fated mate attend the council, and they were adamant that both participate, regardless of their thoughts on the matter. They had to come.
Allen was very tempted to tell them to get lost and come back tomorrow morning, but didn't and smiled instead. As always, his outward appearance was calm and collected–dignified, even. There was no sign of annoyance, even though he was pretty irritated deep down. It was something only Nyell noticed, and that was only because he had seen how Allen truly looked when he was in a good mood. Even if his smile appeared as gentle as ever, Nyell knew better. Maybe because he was his fated mate, or maybe because he wasn't a fool. It was clear in his mind that Allen played along with the elders' whims solely to keep his hidden agenda on track. Or perhaps, it was merely for fun. Who knows.
But unlike Allen, Nyell had no obligation to keep his mouth shut. He was still a newcomer, supposedly with no understanding of the White Moon tribe's strict hierarchy and how it operated. And thanks to his relationship with the tribal chief, he could make as many blunders as he wanted without fearing the consequences, and he sure as hell would enjoy this little privilege of his to its fullest. And so, he got the ball rolling.
"What the heck?" Nyell grunted, leaning against Allen's side and invading his personal space, very naturally circling his fated mate's waist with an arm and holding him close. "Is your tribe trying to work its chief to death? Like, how about giving you a few days of rest after you've worked your ass off in the jungle? It's not like journeying there is easy-peasy!"
The errand boys, who were almost all a head shorter than Nyell and still red in the face due to the demanding climb, seemed stunned by his words. He could practically see the gears turning, and some seemed to be hit by an epiphany. Did they finally realize that they were rushing their chief as if he were their slave and not their leader? Pathetic.
"Dear," Allen sighed, patting his hand in a comforting manner, "I'm more robust than you think, and I'll rest later. I do have urgent reports to give. With all that has been happening, the elders are worried, so don't be too rash, especially not on the poor lads who are only obeying orders."
As an answer, Nyell grimaced, but didn't comment further on the matter. It was better to let the fools use their imagination to fill in what he thought of this and let them get nervous on their own.
"Fine, fine!" Nyell pouted before muttering under his breath just loud enough for them to hear, "We can't even enjoy our honeymoon. So annoying."
"Alright, we'll be down in a short time," Allen ignored his supposed beloved's mumblings before turning his head toward him, their noses almost touching due to the short distance. Then, he gestured toward the bedroom. "Do you want to change clothes before we go? You can take some of mine."
"Well, I guess I will."
Nyell had to admit that a change of clothes certainly wouldn't hurt. Even if he did wash his leather pants and shirt in a creek whenever he could, his current clothing still bore the signs of the journey through the jungle, and dirt had accumulated. Moreover, wearing Allen's clothes would help cement his position in the eyes of onlookers. Still, Nyell wasn't that keen on the idea of wearing robes, as he had no idea whatsoever about how to put these things on. It didn't seem very practical, either.
Thankfully, when Nyell stepped inside Allen's bedroom, he noticed some clothing that was very similar to the children's lying on the bed, even in color. It wasn't the usual white, but a deep black. He had a hunch that the little ghosts had prepared the outfit for him, which drew a small smile from him. Unsure if they were still in the room or if they had already left, he nevertheless muttered a thank you before changing. The soft fabric felt strange against his skin, and the tank top was a tad too tight for his taste. He pulled on the long collar a few times, grimacing as it felt like it was strangling him. Unlike the ghosts, however, he chose not to put on the cropped vest and kept his leather boots after dusting them, tucking the pants inside.
Now that everything was ready, it was time to go down and meet these so-called elders of the White Moon tribe. So exciting.
***
A heavy silence reigned in the council room as the elders awaited the arrival of the tribal chief and his mate. Jawe, in particular, appeared even more somber than the others. What happened earlier in the day weighed on his mind. Among all the people he could have picked a fight with, it just had to be with the chief's fated mate. How bad could his luck get?
Although Allen was acting meek in front of them most of the time, the elders weren't complete fools. They had seen what happened to those who crossed the lines. They might not have any proof, but it didn't matter. It was obvious what happened to the troublemakers. Throughout the history of their tribe, their God had never picked an incompetent as their chief. This time around, Allen was chosen when he was a young teen after the previous chief died, and they tried to groom him into their puppet. However, it was a fruitless endeavor. A wolf was still a wolf, even after being tamed. At the very least, he let them do their own things, as long as it didn't go overboard.
'But so many of us go overboard,' Jawe bit his thumbnail, his leg shaking with anxiety. 'Why did he have to bring back his fated mate? I had the perfect mate for him in mind! If only he had found him a little later…'
Unlike most elders, who rejoiced in Nyell's appearance, Jawe was deeply troubled by it. He had been part of the faction that was pushing Allen to go through the mating ceremony and visit the Lovers of the Moons. He had promised the wealthy foreign lords that he would, somehow, manage to bring one of theirs into his chief's arms, ensuring them a high position in the tribe. That had backfired spectacularly.
'Perhaps,' Jawe let his thoughts derive, as a vain hope surged in his guts, 'he's not his fated mate at all. He might be just a random guy he brought to shut our trap. It wouldn't be past him to engage in such a dirty trick.'
Destined mates were considered sacred in the White Moon tribe, but not everyone shared that thought. Some wanted to use this bond to their advantage and leverage it, such as Jawe. And because he saw the status of fated mates as a tool, he inevitably thought that others would see it this way, too. Evil expected evil from others, and the elders, at least the corrupt ones, were the prime examples of this saying.
"…Is he really his fated mate?" Jawe mumbled to himself without realizing it, still lost in his own thoughts.
"Do you doubt our Lord?"
A sharp and cold voice echoed, startling Jawe. He lifted his head to come across a woman's icy gaze. Elder Abby wasn't pleased with his muttering, and she made sure that everyone knew it. She was part of the loyal faction, those who worshiped Allen and believed he was always right. They had a one-track mind that was difficult to handle.
"No, of course not!" Jawe shook his head. "It's just that fated mates are a rare occurrence, and not even once during the history of our tribe did our esteemed chief find his destined mate. Except for our first chief, all of them remained single throughout their lives, according to the archives. It's just a little hard to believe that things would be any different for the chief of this era."
"So, what?" Abby scorned. "We might just be the lucky ones. Our Lord would never lie about such a crucial matter!"
"I wouldn't bet on that," another elder scoffed. "Or do you truly believe our chief doesn't employ underhanded tactics to get what he wants? If you do, you're unbelievably naïve."
"You!"
"The meeting hasn't started," a nonchalant voice resounded, shutting them up, "yet you're already squabbling like little children. If you doubt my word so much, you only need to say, and I'll gladly do the trial of the Fated Mates. The result should clear up any misunderstanding."
"What's that trial?" another voice asked. "I've never heard of it before."
"No surprise here. It's rarely done, and not many know about it. Usually, people do not call into question the bond of fated mates when two people proclaim they hold it. Ah, but don't worry, it's a small ritual that verifies if a pair of mates truly are destined mates or not. It's a bit long, but it doesn't cause any harm."
"Sounds annoying like hell, though."
In a split second, all hope Jawe entertained crashed. If Allen dared to bring up the trial, it seemed like these two were indeed fated mates. But maybe he was trying to play with their minds to make them give up on verifying. And considering the few glances Jawe caught, he wasn't the only one who thought of that. Little did they know that whatever they thought, they were wrong. In reality, Allen willingly seized this opportunity to bring up the trial, mostly to convince Nyell once and for all of their unbreakable bond. He couldn't care less about what the elders thought.