Later that day, Pasha stood in a fitting room in the tailor's shop on the square, his arms out to his sides somewhat like a T. The little man was rushing about, taking measurements, and making last minute adjustments to his outfit.
I didn't think I could be this calm about it. I thought I was going to be a nervous wreck today, he thought, nodding to the tailor as he stepped away. Retrieving his sword belt, Pasha buckled it around his waist, checking the shaska and knife in their sheaths. Both were secure, but quickly removable should anything happen. He didn't think it would, but this was the one day he was not going to leave it to chance.
Finished, he moved out to the square, nodding to the guests and dignitaries, pausing a moment to clasp hands as was tradition with Nikephoros, Kathos, and William as he encountered them, before making his way to the priest's side. That, too, was tradition, even if it was one he didn't care for. Truthfully he would have preferred one of the two leaders of Ligoria to be performing the service as he didn't hold any faith in religions, but he would accept it. It was a small sacrifice, and one not worth fighting over. He looked over at the traveling band he had hired and inclined his head slightly.
The lead bard nodded back and took up his instrument, and they all began to
play. Standing by the priest, Pasha turned to look down the street to where his bride would emerge, anticipating the moment eagerly...