The Swordswoman’s Revenge Story After Rebirth
Chapter 321: The Lesson
After greeting the elders, Isolde was led into the house to meet her peers. A group of cousins—both male and female—gathered around, laughing and teasing. Patricia nudged a tall young man standing at Natasha’s right and introduced him with a grin. “This blockhead here is your eldest cousin, Gianni Sharp. This one’s Peter Sharp, your second cousin. Third cousin, Spencer Sharp. Fourth, Reed Sharp. And the youngest one here, Alex Sharp.”
Isolde greeted each of them with polite gratitude. “It must have been a tiring journey. I truly appreciate you all coming back for my wedding.”
The Sharp men, all young generals, were more eager to hear about Isolde’s military exploits than discuss wedding matters. “Come on,” Alex said eagerly, “let’s sneak off and have some drinks. I want to hear the real story of how you crushed Kamari at Zloimond.”
Patricia smacked him on the arm, laughing. “Another time! There’s too much to do tonight.”
Alex groaned but relented, seeing the wisdom in her words. Isolde chuckled. “When I return for the three-day visit, I’ll bring Oliver and tell you everything.”
“What, we don’t even get a preview? That doesn’t count!”
“Out, out!” Patricia waved them away, half-scolding, half-laughing. “Go make yourselves useful. The red carpet needs checking, and this household is short-staffed. Since you’re all so skilled at hard labor, lend a hand.”
Reluctantly, the men filed out, leaving the women to continue with the wedding preparations. The Sharp family had always been a straightforward, lively bunch. While they didn’t adhere rigidly to every tradition, the more meticulous relatives ensured that the wedding followed all proper customs, leaving no detail overlooked.
The sheer number of rituals made Isolde’s head spin. Tomorrow was going to be exhausting. And that was just the wedding day itself—what followed afterward left her completely dumbfounded.
“Remember,” one aunt instructed, “the day after the wedding, you must greet your in-laws and the elders of the Valen family properly. The formalities must be observed.”
Isolde felt faint. Natasha, who had been quietly listening, chuckled and reassured her. “It’s just one day. After that, things will be much easier. But on that day, everyone will be watching. You must do it well, for Oliver’s sake, and so your father-in-law isn’t put in a difficult position.”
“Understood,” Isolde replied, bracing herself.
Then, an aunt suddenly interjected, “I heard that Old Lord Allan Valen and Lady Heidi are returning for the wedding as well.”
Natasha’s expression tightened instantly. Unlike most of the Valens, who were military men, Allan Valen was a scholar. He had retired from his…
The man was an unyielding stickler for tradition, intolerant of anything that strayed from the rules. His mere presence could drain the joy out of any event. Word had it that when his youngest son’s wife married into the family, she had unknowingly breached protocol. Allan had berated her in front of a room full of guests until she wept.
Then there was his second wife—his “fill-in wife,” as some called her—who had been married into the family three years after Pablo’s mother had passed. She had brought two grown children from her previous marriage, who had since married and left. Coincidentally, this woman was the same age as Margaret. No one knew much about her temperament. And now, Isolde would have to call her “Grandmother.”
This was getting worse by the moment. Having one Margaret to deal with was bad enough. Now she had to contend with Allan and a step-grandmother of unknown disposition. Natasha’s mood soured immediately. Isolde, having encountered Allan and Heidi in her past life, knew well how difficult Allan could be. He insisted on rigidly following every custom, every tradition, with no room for flexibility.
Patricia asked hopefully, “But surely Allan won’t be staying long? He’ll return to Chario City after the wedding, right?”
“No,” Natasha said grimly. “I heard from your uncle that the King plans to appoint him as Grand Mentor to instruct the young princes.”
Patricia groaned. “Great. Just what we need—him turning the princes into joyless, unbending scholars.”
“The official title is mentor to the imperial heirs, but his real task will be to instruct the Crown Prince in statecraft.”
“Enough about him,” Natasha said, shaking off her irritation. “It’s almost time for the ‘hair-combing’ ceremony.”
Hair-combing was a crucial wedding-eve tradition. An elderly woman, known for her longevity and many children, would comb the bride’s hair while offering blessings, symbolizing health, a harmonious marriage, and a future filled with sons and daughters.
Surrounded by relatives, Isolde sat at her dressing table as the elderly woman picked up an ivory comb, tied with a red silk ribbon. The polished bronze mirror reflected Isolde’s rare, blushing face, glowing with a beauty like the first bloom of spring.
The elderly woman sighed with nostalgia. “I remember sitting here myself as a bride, with the most respected matron in Argentum combing my hair. And now, seventy years have passed in the blink of an eye.”
“You are blessed with a long, fortunate life,” Natasha said warmly. “Lelde will be as fortunate as I have been. I have no regrets in this life. May she receive my blessings and live a life of peace and happiness.”
With gentle strokes, she ran the comb through Isolde’s hair, murmuring blessings as she did so. The gathered women applauded, voicing their well-wishes. Hearing their kind words, Isolde felt a rare joy warming her heart.
As the ceremony concluded, Patricia’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Alright, ladies, let’s all step outside for a bit. We have some private matters to discuss.”
Many in the room exchanged knowing glances, stifling giggles as they filed out, leaving only Patricia, Christine, and Esme behind. Even Natasha exited, her lips twitching in amusement.
Isolde blinked. “Why do we need to clear the room? What’s so secret?”
Patricia laughed, nudging her toward the seat. “There’s something we must discuss with you, of course. Now sit properly.”
Isolde hesitated, noting their oddly expectant expressions. But seeing they weren’t overly serious, she complied, though warily. Before Patricia even spoke, a flush crept up her cheeks.
Isolde narrowed her eyes. “Patricia, are you feeling hot? This room isn’t that warm.”
Despite the brazier burning, the constant coming and going of people had let in cold drafts.
“Oh, you silly child,” Patricia chuckled, exchanging amused glances with Christine and Esme. Then, with a teasing but instructive tone, she said, “Isolde, listen carefully. The wedding night means one thing—you and Oliver will consummate your marriage. Now, you may not know much about this, so we’re here to teach you.”
Isolde’s mind went blank for a moment. They were going to talk about this? She had been married before in her past life, but Matilda had never given her such a talk. She had no idea this was something brides were instructed on before marriage.
Her face turned crimson. “I… I already know! You don’t have to say anything.”
Esme reached out and gave her hand a firm squeeze. “Nonsense. How would you know? Where would you have heard about such things?” Esme had a feeling Isolde did know, but in front of Patricia and Christine, they all had to play their roles. Besides, they all knew there were still people eavesdropping just outside the room.