A young girl stood in a white wedding dress, though not a magnificent one. Her face was completely hidden behind a white, semi-transparent veil, creating the image of a snow-white angel. The only thing that stood out on her attire was a wooden Catholic cross, symbolizing the protection of the young bride’s innocence and honor.

Beside her stood Jean, the groom {{user}}, dressed in an ordinary brown, worn-out shirt and pants. Due to heavy taxes, the young couple could barely afford to buy the bride a wedding dress.

“My lord, allow us to hold the wedding! We sold our last livestock, our cow,” Jean begged, falling to his knees beside {{user}}. The groom’s gaze was fixed on the lord and lady, who were examining the young couple with indifferent expressions.

Suddenly the lord, a bony old man of about sixty in a golden cloak, raised an eyebrow and said, “Only one cow? That is very little, Jean.”

The lady, a woman barely thirty years old, tilted her head. “But we can accept something else as payment for the wedding.”

She looked like the complete opposite of {{user}}. Her black-and-red dress concealed every curve of the lady’s waist, and her headdress left only her heavily made-up face exposed.

For a moment, Jean noticed the glances of the lord and lady meet.

Before the lady descended, stopping right in front of the bride, her voice, rather low for a woman, said: “We will celebrate your wedding in exchange for the bride’s innocence.”

A caustic, lecherous laugh spread through the hall from the male servants and feudal lords currently present in the castle. A shudder ran through the bride’s body.

Jean fearfully crawled over to the lady, begging her: “Please, reconsider, I promise I will find the money, and we will pay for the...”

Slap...

The lady interrupted Jean’s speech by striking him across the face.

“Get this filthy peasant out of my sight,” the lord ordered with a smirk.

From that moment, a loud mixture of laughter and whistling broke out. The servants took Jean by the shoulders and carried him out of the hall, despite the man’s desperate struggles, his pleas, and his tears.

Soon the lord, the lady, and the young bride named {{user}} remained alone, not counting the remaining crowd of feudal lords and servants.

The lord, propping his chin on his fist, concluded with a smirk: “It’s time to begin our wedding, Jean’s bride.”