Father Alastair did a great job organising the big event, despite the little time he had.
The difference between tribal and noble customs alone must have been a challenge.
But from later retellings, he had done well for an old priest.
For Konrad? It all went by in a blur.
To avoid an outrage—or to make the scandal less obvious—they split the weddings in two.
That included the ceremonies, the crowd, and even a separate location for his brides.
The tribesmen and the old-time servants gathered early in the mess hall. It was a newer building tailored for the tribes on the outskirts, and could fit five hundred men.
They packed it to the brim with people.
That included his twin, Nimrod, and much of the Tribal Council, too.
Konrad had no time to greet them, but it would have been a diplomatic disaster if he hadn't invited the big heads. The Blood Moons couldn't even make it in time to witness Lily's wedding.
His men-at-arms had to represent them instead—but they still made it work somehow.
Rather than the chieftain of the tribe, Welf walked his not-sister to the symbolic altar.
The demoness didn't wear fluffy white dresses or anything fancy, either. In fact, she looked even scantier than usual, but nobody seemed to mind that. Especially not Konrad.
He couldn't call that first wedding grand or ceremonial, but it didn't matter in the slightest.
As it turned out, tribes only measured the majesty of these events by the amount of alcohol in them. This meant that everyone had to get drunk, and Konrad was no exception.
By the time of his second ceremony, he was under the influence, remembering even less.
They held that one in the main temple—Alastair handling both weddings—with a more noble audience. To his luck, Zoltan joined as well and agreed to handle the 'decorations'.
Since Konrad was broke, it was all done with illusions.
Except, by that point, he was in no shape for the elaborate spells.
He could only take notes for the future: don't drink and fight.
On the flipside, it took quite some booze to calm Lord Schwertburg down.
According to witnesses, he was quite insufferable during the ceremony regardless. But he still led his daughter to the altar without issues. Again, Konrad didn't remember any of it.
He had no recollection of Gabby's dress, either, but the same witnesses said it was magnificent.
"She looked like an angel," nobles later claimed.
They had no idea how close they'd been to the truth.
And for Konrad? It was all blank after that.
Did they kiss in public? Was there a feast afterwards? No idea.
The next thing he remembered was waking up in a tent, the loose canvas flapping in the wind.
His head was throbbing, his mouth dry. Someone cleared their throat, which was enough to make his world—and stomach—flip upside down.
Yeah. They must have had a feast after all.
It all came back to him now—as one, ugly green sludge spraying onto the floor.
"That's one way for a duke to start his day," Helena scoffed. She held him by the shoulder until Konrad heaved everything up in the least majestic way. "Hope you have a spell for that."
"For cleaning?" he asked, still nauseous.
"No, to deal with that headache," the princess—or regent or whatever—said. "You have an army to lead, Your Majesty. Don't remember?"
He did not. But her mocking words rang a strange, distant bell, one term in particular.
"What duke?" he asked, squeezing his eyes shut.
Not looking at the pool of vomit didn't help much. He could still smell the stench, his throat burning. Yeah, a spell to deal with this kind of thing would have been nice.
But right as he thought about it, he felt a light touch and a familiar warmth washing over him.
"Looks like meow husband had too much to drink," Lily purred. Her healing chased away the headache in seconds. "Good thing my wedding came first. He might still remember parts of it."
"It's your folk's fault he got so drunk in the first place," Gabrielle added, rubbing her eyes.
She had terrible bedhead. Konrad never expected to see her like this.
Or rather, he never expected to wake up next to her.
Next to both of his haremettes.
No. Wives. He got married to them both.
It took him a moment until it sank in, headache or not—and he still had no idea why they were in a tent. Or where were they in the first place? The only thing certain was the cold.
"Pull yourself together, Duke Halstadt," Helena demanded.
And he almost put the pieces back together before she disrupted his thoughts again.
"You keep calling me a duke, but I never got the title," Konrad scoffed, realising another thing.
He wrapped himself in a thick blanket, but underneath—naked.
Both he and his two new wives. No wonder he felt cold, but with Helena also present—
"Are you serious right now?" she asked, pinching her nose and looking away. "The first ducal title I grant to a vassal of mine, and he doesn't even remember."
"Next time, do it before they get drunk," Lily recommended with a grin.
With a flick of her finger, the pool of vomit disappeared from the ground.
It didn't dry up—it disintegrated, smell and wetness, all gone.
Greater demons sure made excellent housewives.
"So I'm an actual duke now?" Konrad asked, still trying to kick himself into gear.
"A duke and my Commander in Chief," Helena noted with a deep sigh. "And a happy husband of these two, in case you forgot that as well. Too happy, if you ask me."
She gave him a look that could have had a million meanings, none of them kind.
And no, that part didn't surprise him. He half expected to become a proper general, too.
But a duke? After all those demands to prove himself, and, well, he couldn't—
"T-thank you, Your Grace," he stuttered, almost getting up. But then, realising his lack of clothing, he only bowed his head on the ground. "I won't disappoint you."
"Hah, you already did," she claimed, but there was no heat behind her words. "Get up and organise the defences. Scouts reported the enemy vanguard close."
Yeah. They had no time to waste.
Maou Midori and his huge army of nomads were on their way.
"We'll set out to the Halaima Pass right away," he barked, earning himself a snort and a laugh.
Hold on for a second.
A tent. Cold winds.
It should have been obvious, but not with his head still in the gutter.
"You're already there, Konrad," Helena said, patting his shoulder. "I'll wait for you outside."
She got up and left, the tent flapping behind her until it didn't.
It wasn't the cold, he recognised this feeling. Time froze, again.
He shot a glance at Gabrielle—his neck cracking and turning at a snail's pace. And as expected, the archangel held her hands up, creating a time bubble around them as usual.
"Now that your hangover is gone," she said with an uncharacteristic smirk.
"Yeah, drunk Konny's way too funny," Lily nodded. Were they reading each other's minds? "But you still owe us both the proper wedding night treatment. Battling the nomads can wait."