Chapter 326: Oliver's Dance
As soon as Esme gave the signal, Noelle, Britney, Hattie Hazel, and the others rushed to distribute gifts. She had anticipated that the wedding-night revelry would stir the soldiers' enthusiasm, so she had prepared presents in advance.
Anthony grinned and declared, “Alright then, for Esme’s sake, we won’t go too overboard tonight—just two hours of fun! Let’s go!”
“Two hours? Oh no, Anthony, that’s way too much!” Esme protested, but before she could say more, the crowd had already pushed her outside.
A chorus of voices erupted. “Come on, jump! Watch that threshold carefully!”
Oliver chuckled, adjusting his grip as Isolde clung to his back. She had no choice—if she didn’t hold on tight, she’d slip off mid-jump. But if she held on too tightly, she’d end up choking him.
Lucas raised his voice. “The rules are simple! If the bride slips off, the groom drinks. If the groom falls, the groom drinks again!”
Laughter exploded through the room. Hattie scoffed, “That’s not fair! Either way, Oliver’s the one drinking!”
“Hattie, do you really have the heart to make Isolde drink?”
“Well, I feel bad for Oliver too!” Hattie protested.
“No helping it,” Anthony clapped his hands. “Oliver, your only choice is to jump properly.”
With no way out, Oliver turned his head slightly. “Hold on tight. I’m jumping.”
“Alright.” Isolde’s eyes sparkled with excitement. As exhausting as the ordeal was, the sheer liveliness of it all made everything feel so real.
Oliver took a step forward—and Isolde nearly slid off. But with quick reflexes, she hooked her legs around his thighs and scrambled back up, pressing herself flush against his back. Oliver froze, his face turning red.
“Oliver’s blushing!” someone hollered.
The crowd roared with laughter.
Oliver clenched his jaw and shot Anthony a glare. “Do I have to jump out the door too?”
“Of course! And you’re not done until you make it to the rooftop!” Anthony declared mercilessly.
“You just wait until your wedding, Anthony—I’ll make sure you suffer for this,” Isolde huffed.
Anthony smirked. “Oh, is that so? Well then, no mercy tonight! Since I’ll be tormented in the future anyway, I might as well make the most of it now. Now, stop dawdling and jump!”
Oliver had no choice but to keep going. With each jump, Isolde timed her movements perfectly, using her own strength to help stabilize herself. Step by step, they cleared the threshold, bounced down the stone steps, and emerged outside.
Oliver let out a helpless chuckle. He glanced up at the roof—it was over ten feet high. With his arms and legs tied, how was he supposed to make it up there?
He gave it a few tries, but each attempt ended with him failing to gain any height—and worse, Isolde slipped off his back.
“Drink! Drink!” Keith shouted gleefully.
At once, someone handed Oliver a cup of liquor and forced him to down it.
“Again! Again!”
Oliver wiped his mouth, laughing. “This isn’t going to work unless you untie my legs.”
“No way!” Anthony shook his head. “If your legs were free, anyone could jump up. Either you get to the rooftop, or you keep drinking.”
Esme finally stepped in, trying to mediate. “Alright, alright. Oliver still has to entertain the guests; he’s bound to be drowned in liquor anyway. Let’s go easy on him here.”
Anthony’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Fine! Since Esme’s pleading on your behalf, we’ll do one more challenge—good things come in pairs, after all. What do you think, Esme?”
“Well… I suppose that’s true. But let’s not go overboard this time.”
“Of course! We’ll keep it simple,” Anthony promised, then turned back to the crowd. “Oliver will dance, and the bride will perform a sword routine! How about that?”
Laughter and cheers erupted. “Brilliant! Anthony, you’re ruthless!”
Isolde had just finished untying Oliver when she heard this. She turned to him, only to see his face burning red. “Wait… you meant I’d wield the sword, right?”
“No, no, no. Tonight, you are the star of the show! Oliver, we want to see you dance!”
Isolde’s expression darkened. “Enough nonsense. Go drink and leave us alone.”
“No way!” Anthony countered. “A wedding isn’t complete without some mischief. Just ask Esme—tradition says we have to liven things up!”
The crowd roared, “Oliver dances! Isolde wields the sword!”
Oliver looked completely helpless. “I don’t know how to dance!”
“Noelle, you demonstrate! Oliver, just follow along,” Anthony declared, dragging Noelle forward.
Noelle covered her mouth, giggling. “Oh, I don’t know how to dance either.”
“Then learn! Otherwise, no reward for you! And if Oliver doesn’t dance, we have plenty more challenges lined up!” Keith threatened with a grin.
Noelle hurriedly waved her hands. “Alright, alright! Let’s get this over with.”
The crowd cleared a space, pushing Oliver into position beside Noelle. He cast a desperate look at Isolde, but she merely shrugged. “I don’t know how to dance either.”
“Noelle, start!” Anthony ordered.
Taking a deep breath, Noelle lifted her right foot onto her toes, spun gracefully, and arched her arms into a fluid motion.
Oliver copied her movements—kind of. He managed to rise onto his toes, spin, and wave his arms, but the result was… disastrous. While Noelle moved like a flowing river, Oliver moved like a stiff plank being violently shaken by the wind. His rigid arms slashed through the air with no grace whatsoever.
Anthony doubled over in laughter. “Oliver, are you summoning spirits? ‘Come back, come back…”
The entire crowd howled with laughter, some even wiping tears from their eyes.
Isolde, watching her groom being utterly humiliated, tried to hold back her own laughter—but failed.
Finally, she stepped forward, drawing her whip. “I’ll wield the whip instead of a sword.”
With a single crack, the laughter died down. The air filled with the sharp snap of her whip slicing through the night, each movement swift and powerful. The onlookers instinctively stepped back, the playful atmosphere momentarily replaced by awe.
In that moment, Oliver’s embarrassment was completely overshadowed. All eyes were now on Isolde, the formidable general who had just turned the tables with a single flick of her wrist.