CHAPTER 9: Legally Brewing Trouble
(Yvaine's Point of View)
After dramatically slamming the door on Yanyan and the Duke of the North like a goddess of matchmaking and mischief, I turned around—
—and walked straight into my brother's disapproval aura.
Arms crossed. Vein twitching. Battle-worn jaw locked and loaded.
Beside him stood his ever-graceful wife, smiling, and yet I think she's much more dangerous than my brother. The Mad Dog tamer indeed. I felt chills as she smiled at me.
Which, considering what was about to happen, it probably was.
"Would someone like to explain why the Duke of the North is in a room alone with your best friend?" my brother asked slowly, the kind of slow that meant he was ready to duel God for answers.
"Oh, they're just talking," I said sweetly, waving my hand. "It's fine. This is fine. Everyone's fine."
"But... my deary Yvy, I don't think they're just talking... Our Yanyan received a notice of Marriage Registration with the stamp.... and not just that, but the Approval from the Emperor himself. Care to explain now, deary Yvy?" Still smiling, my sis-in-law asked while I could feel the sweat glands on my armpits weeping.
My brother looked at me like even without words, he can tell everything that's on my mind. He didn't blink.
I turned to my last line of defense: Eirian, my emotionally exhausted assistant.
"Eirian," I said with a smile that probably looked like fear, "could you walk them to the next drawing room? The one with discreet windows and good lighting? Serve them that new tea—yes, the one with the leaves from the Skittle Slayer batch."
He raised a brow. "The tea that smells like plum and minor identity fraud?"
"Perfect." Now I feel the pressure of how my brother and sissy-in-law stared at me. Like I can create another nostril on my forehead on how intense they stared at me.
We walked down the hall like a group headed for group therapy with snacks.
Eirian led. My brother and sister-in-law followed, radiating silent judgment.
And I trailed behind like a raccoon planning her next public scandal.
The drawing room greeted us with cozy cushions and wide windows. The kind of room where nobles either confessed secrets or ran from them.
My brother and sister-in-law sat like royalty. I stood.
One hand on the back of a chair. The other subtly testing the door's swing speed.
Eirian began pouring tea with his usual elegance. But I caught the smallest flick of tension in his wrist.
And that's when I remembered earlier—
How he'd looked at me without asking, brushed my hair back, and tied it up high.
"Keep your vision clear," he said as if this were combat.
Then—he knelt.
Pulled the laces of my boots tight. Double-knotted. Clean. Unforgiving.
"No slipping later."
I should've known. He was preparing me for something.
"Tea," Eirian offered now.
My brother sniffed it. "This doesn't have liquor, does it?"
Eirian didn't even blink. "Only spiritually."
My sister-in-law took a sip.
Paused.
Then set it down with the kind of calm that usually precedes explosions.
She smiled at me.
"Better to explain now or be dead ass later, deary Yvy."
I nodded solemnly.
"Make it painless sissy,"
I turned to Eirian and said calmly, "Leave the door open."
My brother's head snapped toward me. "Why?"
"Ventilation," I lied smoothly. "Also… safety. For… escaping ghosts. I might turn into a ghost later, just precautionary measures like how you trained me,"
Then came the shift.
The part where I knew we were doomed. I was actually about to tell my sissy-in-law about what I did that led to the accidental marriage of my cinnamon roll, best friend named Yanyan to the known Duke of the North.
"One of my knights saw you," my brother said, leaning forward like a prosecutor about to slam the gavel.
I blinked, all wide-eyed innocence.
"You should've told him to say hi!" I said brightly. "He could've been a witness!"
Eirian choked. It sounded holy.
My brother didn't flinch.
"He saw you wobbling into the registry office. Your assistant trailing behind like a nervous lamppost. You bribed clerks with questionable bottles. Who did you register?"
I smiled. "Hard to say. Might've been our butler's name. Or possibly 'Charmander' from the Pokemon Go era. My penmanship was tipsy."
"Charman-what?! Was it the Crown Prince?" His eye twitched.
I gasped at how absurd to be matched with that lemon-squeezed-head of a person that when I squeeze it, only airs will be squeezed out. "The lemon head?! Please, I do have dignity and taste! If I wanted to marry citrus, I'd open a fruit stand."
I pointed at Eirian with pride.
"If I needed golden hair, I'd dye his bangs with actual treasure and marry him before I even looked at the citrus shelf."
Eirian didn't even flinch.
"…Please don't."
"Is this how I raised you? Yesterday it was Yanyan, and now, you are married?! You declined the Emperor's Elite Guards' Knightage and were about to open the Booze Unbordered to our enemies' land?! DO YOU WANT TO BE RETRAINED?!" My brother stood slowly with his face redder than a tomato and red bell pepper with a bit of Heinz catsup.
I stood too.
"NOPE."
I lunged. Grabbed Eirian around the waist. And—like the graceful noble I am—slung him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes with a master's degree.
"YVAINE—WAIT—THIS IS ILLEGAL—THIS IS KIDNAPPING—"
"You tied my boots for this!" I shouted while making sure I held him so he wouldn't fall even though he was squirming. Good thing, our family has this ability, kinda on the strong side of our family's genes. Carrying him like a chicken, flightless, lightweight, and flawless.
"I TIED THEM FOR SUPPORT—NOT—OH GODS SHE'S RUNNING—"
My brother roared. "YVAINE—PUT HIM DOWN—"
And just as I cleared the threshold, I heard it.
Soft. Calm. Icy sweet.
My sister-in-law is still seated. Still sipping.
"She'll be dead ass later, hunny bunny." I cackled as we escaped.
THE MAD DOG OF ISOLDE.
NOW HUNNY.
BUNNY.
He would never live that down.
Should I tease him later as Bunny? I don't think it's a good idea. He'll make me plank while walking using my arms again. Gladly my arms are still intact to hold my beer mug filled not with beer. But liquor of regrets from attending my brother's training before.
Brewed intentionally and exclusively in the back of the Isolde barracks. Not for the emotionally sober. I called it, Bro's Elbow Brew.
For making me burn my entire elbow for a month, gladly we have healers here that I don't have to cast both of my arms.
Nope. Nope. And NOPE. Capital N.O.P.E. NOPE.
End of Chapter 9...
Registry secrets: semi-sealed.
Witness knights: emotionally shaken.
Eirian: airborne.