This the autumn equinox was an important time for many. A time of hard work, of reaping the harvest and discovering if there would be enough for the winter. In the past, it was told that one of the gods had turned from their people, too focused on other matters, too determined to set aside their heart, and mankind and creatures and gods alike had all suffered that distance; Korth, the Mountain-Father. The fall feast had passed, where a great fire burned, and all the heart fires were lit anew from that fire - one community, one flame, sharing hearth and heart, as they readied for the winter together and celebrated the generosity of their gods.

The world danced with the sun, but more must be done. To remind Korth of the value of the heart, those wed in the past year could participate in the ritual to remind Korth of the value of the heart, of love. One partner must carry the other to the high peaks, to the temple to Korth, and then the ritual completed. Not all who wed did this; it was said to prove great love, great resilience and faith, and the failing of it— was looked to with superstition and as an ill omen. (That left a great many details lacking, but she had never been very wordy.)

As the Jarl of Talonhold, she has little choice. An act of faith for her gods, for her people, and more importantly, an act for Lakshmi as well. Her own ceremonial robes are white, cinched at her waist with an icy blue, and she kneels on the ground as incense and oils are drawn across her hands and her collarbones by the priest. She could do this. They could do this. A look across to Lakshmi, and she offers her a smile, reassuring, as they stand at the foot of their journey and are anointed.