The wedding ceremony is just a ceremony; the most important thing is still the marriage certificate.
Without a marriage certificate signed by a church, the marital relationship would not be recognized by the Church. Although the Church at this time was not as powerful as it would become in the following centuries—especially given the constant conflicts in the lands conquered by the Crusades and the threat of the Mongol cavalry from the East—various nations were busy with their development and naturally looked unfavorably upon the Church's attempts to meddle. This led to a decline in the Church's prestige during this period, despite having expanded its authority through multiple Crusades.
Of course, as Wei Wei saw it, the main reason for the Church's low profile during this era was the frequent changes in popes.
The Pope, the highest leader of the Church, held a lifelong position, with the term depending entirely on how long the incumbent lived. But in the 13th century, whether due to bad luck or poor feng shui, the Church went through 17 popes in a hundred years. Apart from a few with relatively long reigns, most lasted only three to five years, and some even died after just a month in office—and not just one or two.
In this century, the Church's highest leadership changed frequently, and as the end of the century approached (around their current time), the papal reigns grew even shorter. Though no one said it openly, rumors had long circulated that this was divine punishment for the Crusaders attacking the wrong places—such as Eastern Orthodox Christian nations that also worshipped God—during their campaigns to reclaim lands occupied by Islam. As a result, God was said to be punishing the Church by preventing these popes from enjoying the highest earthly authority.
In recent years, these rumors have grown louder, especially this year, when the previous pope died after just half a year in office, and his successor lasted only one month and seven days. High-ranking bishops within the Church began to fear for their own lives, worried that the papal throne was truly cursed by divine punishment. So, during the September election, they appointed a Portuguese bishop committed to reconciling the Church with the Eastern Orthodox Church as the new Pope John XX.
This was also a test by the Church's leadership. If God had truly punished the Church for its mistakes, then under this new pope—who sought to mend relations between the two churches—the curse on the papal throne should be broken. At the very least, he should last a few years in office, especially since the new pope was only in his early sixties, a relatively young age for a pope.
If not, it would prove that this was not divine punishment, and the rumors would be mere slander. In that case, the Church would have the justification to continue purging dissent.
From his inauguration in September until now, the new pope—who had previously worked in medicine—seemed to be in good health, free from illness or pain, and even had the energy to pursue his hobby: alchemy. He showed no signs of suddenly collapsing.
Thus, the Church had become much more restrained. Combined with the new pope's lack of interest in power, its control over various nations had weakened significantly—something the rulers of these nations were happy to see.
They fervently hoped that John XX would live a long life, preferably outlasting those ambitious cardinals. After all, clergy should focus on serving God, not meddling in worldly affairs.
But enough digression—let's return to the wedding.
With the full wedding ceremony concluded, the celebration banquet followed.
The banquet was held at Allen's mansion. After Wei Wei accidentally uncovered Felix's secret, he took her to see it. The mansion, once the main residence of Allen's maternal family, was as large as a palace, complete with European-style gardens, a hedge maze, and a grand ballroom. With over a hundred servants, it was the perfect venue for the wedding feast.
Since Allen had given explicit instructions and Felix was footing the bill, his steward spared no effort in the preparations. The ballroom was spotless, adorned with wedding decorations. Two long tables, each dozens of meters long, were set up side by side—one for married nobles and the other for unmarried young men and women—accommodating hundreds of guests. The tables were covered with pure white tablecloths, decorated with artificial flowers and golden candlesticks. The candles, made of tallow mixed with spices, emitted a faint fragrance. Silver cutlery was laid out for each guest, and even the drinking cups were silver.
Of course, these utensils weren't as complete as modern Western cutlery. Since most people didn't even use forks regularly, only one knife, fork, and spoon were provided per guest. But the pure silver material alone showcased the hosts' wealth.
If not for the risk of appearing too ostentatious—which could invite envy or even the king's displeasure—Felix would have preferred gold tableware. He had prepared for this day for so long and was eager to present Wei Wei with all the finest things.
Initially, Felix had tasked the chef from the Earl's residence with preparing the banquet menu. The chef had learned much from Wei Wei during the previous feast she hosted to reward everyone after their journey. With further guidance and practice, he had mastered many "Sardinson County" specialties. Though not as skilled as Wei Wei, he was capable of planning the wedding banquet menu.
Of course, Wei Wei later revised the menu and improved some of the dishes. The food served at this banquet would redefine everyone's understanding of fine cuisine.
When the guests followed the newlyweds to the venue and saw the ballroom's setup—especially the table arrangements—they gained a new appreciation for the Williams family's wealth.
A band in the corner began playing elegant music as they entered.
As the wedding's officiants, the king and Cardinal Adrian were the banquet's most honored guests. But since the newlyweds were the stars of the event, Felix and Wei Wei took the seats of honor, flanked by the king and queen on one side and Cardinal Adrian on the other—an absolute privilege.
"Is this the cutlery used in your homeland, Wei Wei?" The king, acting like a kindly elder, examined the fork. He had seen forks before—as farming tools or weapons—but never as tableware.
Wei Wei, now without her veil but still in her wedding gown, smiled. "My homeland primarily uses chopsticks." She briefly described their appearance and material. "Forks exist but are rare. However, I found they pair well with knives, so I've grown accustomed to using them since coming to the West."
Ancient China did have forks, though they never became mainstream for reasons lost to history.
"Silver tableware—isn't that a bit extravagant?" The queen, seated beside the king, spoke up. Though she wore a smile, her eyes held a hint of hostility.
Wei Wei, sensitive to such cues, noticed the queen's sudden coldness. Upon realizing the queen's gaze lingered on her dress, she understood: the queen was likely upset that Wei Wei had a silk wedding gown but hadn't gifted her any silk for her birthday.
This wasn't far-fetched. Wei Wei had heard countless stories about Queen Mirabelle's jealousy from Countess Nelson. The queen's shift from friendliness to hostility now made sense.
But coming from the queen, the word "extravagant" was rich with irony.
Still, the remark required a careful response. Wei Wei glanced at Cardinal Adrian beside her. Regardless of the Church's private behavior, it publicly upheld frugality. Extravagance—especially by women—was frowned upon.
"We usually use simple pottery and wooden utensils. The silverware was prepared specifically for esteemed guests like Your Majesty and the Cardinal. We initially considered gold but found it too extravagant, so we settled on silver. Plus, silver can detect poison, ensuring food safety." She added with a hint of sorrow, "Given my recent ordeal, I've grown cautious."
The idea that silver could detect poison was widely accepted in Europe. Even Cardinal Adrian, who had initially frowned, nodded in approval.
Besides, many nobles used gold plates and spoons. Silver wasn't excessively lavish by comparison.
Failing to embarrass Wei Wei, Queen Mirabelle's displeasure grew, though the dim candlelight hid her expression from the king. Those around her noticed but tactfully ignored it.
Still, word of the queen's snub would spread, endearing Wei Wei further to noblewomen like Countess Nelson, who disliked the queen. In the end, Wei Wei emerged as the victor.
Before the queen could say more, servants entered with the first course: a fruit and vegetable salad.
Winter made fresh produce rare, and guests were hesitant upon seeing raw fruit—usually served cooked. But the servants assured them the fruit had been boiled (a practice Wei Wei found amusing), and the salad's presentation—drizzled with a creamy, sweet-smelling dressing—won them over.
"What is this sticky sauce?" The king eyed the white dressing on his apple slice.
Wei Wei explained, "It's a sauce made from eggs and oil, perfect for salads—hence the name 'salad dressing.' I hope you like it."
The king took a bite. The sweet, savory, and tangy flavors pleased him. "Delicious."
With the king's approval, others began eating. The salad dressing quickly won everyone over, but it was just the first of many surprises.
Next came small round bread rolls with lemon jam—a Sardinson County product sold through merchants. But the rolls were best paired with the cream of mushroom soup that followed.
Dried mushrooms, a winter luxury, were cooked in cream—a novel preparation that delighted the guests. As they savored the soup, the main course arrived: a plate with olive oil-tossed pasta and a medium-rare steak, garnished with vegetables and drizzled with black pepper sauce.
Several cattle had been slaughtered for the steaks, using only the choicest cuts. The black pepper sauce, made with the spice worth its weight in gold, was the true luxury. Guests used their bread to soak up every last drop.
After the steak came egg salad sandwiches for those still hungry, followed by heart-shaped butter cookies and digestive herbal tea.
With bread and cookies, the meal totaled six courses—fitting for such an occasion.
By the end, no guest could complain. The women, mindful of decorum, skipped the sandwiches but indulged in the cookies. The men, with heartier appetites, were thoroughly satisfied.
Throughout the meal, toasts were raised in honor of the newlyweds.
"This is the most satisfying foreign cuisine I've ever tasted," the king said, raising his glass to Felix. "You have a most capable wife."
He knew who was behind the menu. The dishes, tailored to Western palates, showed great thoughtfulness.
Even Cardinal Adrian raised his glass in agreement.
Felix replied, "Your praise honors us."
Their glasses clinked.
After the meal, the tables were cleared for dancing. The music shifted to something livelier, and Felix led Wei Wei to the floor for the first dance—a newlywed's privilege no one would usurp.
Wei Wei's voluminous skirt had been adjusted earlier to avoid mishaps. Under the candlelight, her satin wedding gown shimmered like jewels, drawing gasps of admiration—and envy.
Queen Mirabelle, seething with jealousy, barely maintained her smile. Others, like Miss Clive, envied Wei Wei for marrying Felix.
Meanwhile, Felix was the envy of many men—not just for his beautiful bride but for his dashing appearance in his black attire.
"Perhaps I should commission a suit like that," the king mused, finding black unexpectedly appealing.
The queen, eyeing Felix with lingering desire, grew even more resentful. During her years of neglect, she had considered taking a lover, and Felix had been a candidate. But fearing the king's wrath, she had never acted.
Now, old regrets fueled her hatred for Wei Wei. Why did she get a handsome young husband while the queen was stuck with a balding, middle-aged womanizer?
(Though in truth, the king was only 41—just overweight and thinning on top.)
Forcing a smile, she agreed, "You should try it. It does make one look more refined—like a scholarly nobleman rather than a knight."
The king nodded. "Exactly."
Many men shared his interest in Felix's attire. As the evening progressed, the conversation centered on the newlyweds. After the first dance, guests crowded around Felix and Wei Wei with congratulations and questions about the food and their outfits.
"Is this silk? It's breathtaking," a young noblewoman marveled. "May I touch it?"
Wei Wei checked the woman's clean hands and nodded. "Of course."
"Oh! It's so smooth and soft—unbelievable!"
Her enthusiasm drew others, and soon Wei Wei became a living display for silk admiration. Thankfully, the women were gentle, afraid of damaging the priceless gown.
Even those who owned silk recognized the superior quality of Wei Wei's dress. Its flawless texture, despite lacking embellishments, spoke volumes.
Some wondered: if she brought such a gown while fleeing, did she once have a wardrobe full of them?
(Wei Wei, who had indeed owned a closet of such clothes—now dismantled into scraps—struggled to keep smiling.)
Weddings were exhausting, especially under such scrutiny. She silently prayed for rescue.
Her wish was granted when the time came for the newlyweds to depart. After all, the wedding night awaited.
By 8 p.m., the king and cardinal had left, leaving the remaining guests in the care of the bridal party. Felix and Wei Wei boarded a carriage and returned to the earl's residence, where their bridal chamber awaited.