SirrusSamiyaza
Bust :(
The sun was slowly setting. Most nights, this would lead to everyone going in, eating dinner, sleeping in. Not tonight. East Lydin was packed, colors streamed up, swordsman practicing for the duels, markets open and offering all sorts of trinkets, snacks, and goodies.
It was the Weather Festival. The Weather Festival was held every Spring, held as one of the most important seasonal festivals of the whole year. The citizens of Albione would head to Lydin, the East of Lydin to be exact, and give thanks to the gods for the weather, hopes for sunshine, a good amount of rain, and for the plants to grow. Things were different this year.
It was the 400th anniversary of the Weather Festival. And it would mark one of the rarest occurrences of all. The Royal Family was sending a royal out of the castle, to the festival, in hopes of a miracle. No one knew why they wanted a miracle, or what sort of miracle they wanted, they only know the words they said. "We are coming for a miracle.". Needless to say, protection in East Lydin and the roads leading to the mountains was high.
Tonight was supposed to be a happy festival. Things, of course, wouldn't go as planned.
----
A carriage was riding through the streets, horsemen giving it room to pass. This was an important carriage, the Vylisi Seal on the side. The carriage was carrying one Alexandre Vylisi, who seemed to be quite busy inside. Alexandre was in a fine coat, black with white seams, Vylisi Crest on the back, with black trousers. He seemed to be admiring himself in a mirror, the handsome devil he was.
It was a bit more complicated than that. He was /talking/ to the mirror. The mirror had a face in it, it seems, that of an elf. Pale skin, dark blue eyes, and silver hair, female. The majority of her body is unseen, but she wears a black robe, with a blue ribbon and a sapphire below the white ruffles, blue earrings on each ear.
Alexandre speaks to her, sipping a cocktail, his face both bored and angry at the same time. "Ms. Wise, are you trying to tell me I am incapable of running this festival without you? What nerve do you have to say that to me?".
Argyle Wise may think it, she probably does, but she would never say it to the noble's face. "Surely not, Vylisi. I just implore you to think about this. This is the Weather Festival, a time where divine magicks are brought down in blessings. You do not think someone with weather magicks could ruin the festival?".
Alexandre's brow furrows. How could this wretched elf tell /him/ how to protect his festival? "Ms. Wise. If I needed the Ars Academia, I would have contacted you myself. This district of Lydin belongs to /my/ family. You do not tell me what to do, I will protect this bloody festival the way I see fit. Do not infiltrate my belongings again.".
And with that, Alexandre is chucking the mirror out the carriage, the glass shattering below. The reflections of a female face can be seen glistening in the shards, before they vanish, the glass once again normal.
Alexandre finishes his cocktail, a shout up to the driver of the carriage. "Step on it. To the Castors's silly little area.".
----
Speaking of which, the Castors had their own little section set up in the market, yes.
Every year, the Castors would host a dueling tournament. This year was probably the most important of all years for this, with the Royal Family having a representative to watch the duel. Warriors from all families and factions were lining up to battle.
One of whom was Cald Erven. He was lucky that with all the people coming that no one recognized him for who he was, and he planned on winning the prize, 5000 Stanes. Cald came alone, but he was ready for the tournament, a sword prepared for the duel.
Farther along the Castors section was a smith. An Orcish smith. Most people were avoiding Ulg-ven Bor, but one Castor was begrudgingly sent to pick up some weapons. Isaiah Trevant steadying up to the blacksmith, a frown on his face and a bow on the back of his vest. "Alright, green-skin. I'm here to pick up the blades for the tournament.".
Bor grouched silently, grabbing the blades. This should be done quickly.
----
Everything looked to be in order tonight so far. Except for those lurking in the shadows. Angels, demons, vampires. The Vex thought tonight was a great night. A night that soon, they would ruin for everyone.
For now, the Festival goes on as planned.
It was the Weather Festival. The Weather Festival was held every Spring, held as one of the most important seasonal festivals of the whole year. The citizens of Albione would head to Lydin, the East of Lydin to be exact, and give thanks to the gods for the weather, hopes for sunshine, a good amount of rain, and for the plants to grow. Things were different this year.
It was the 400th anniversary of the Weather Festival. And it would mark one of the rarest occurrences of all. The Royal Family was sending a royal out of the castle, to the festival, in hopes of a miracle. No one knew why they wanted a miracle, or what sort of miracle they wanted, they only know the words they said. "We are coming for a miracle.". Needless to say, protection in East Lydin and the roads leading to the mountains was high.
Tonight was supposed to be a happy festival. Things, of course, wouldn't go as planned.
----
A carriage was riding through the streets, horsemen giving it room to pass. This was an important carriage, the Vylisi Seal on the side. The carriage was carrying one Alexandre Vylisi, who seemed to be quite busy inside. Alexandre was in a fine coat, black with white seams, Vylisi Crest on the back, with black trousers. He seemed to be admiring himself in a mirror, the handsome devil he was.
It was a bit more complicated than that. He was /talking/ to the mirror. The mirror had a face in it, it seems, that of an elf. Pale skin, dark blue eyes, and silver hair, female. The majority of her body is unseen, but she wears a black robe, with a blue ribbon and a sapphire below the white ruffles, blue earrings on each ear.
Alexandre speaks to her, sipping a cocktail, his face both bored and angry at the same time. "Ms. Wise, are you trying to tell me I am incapable of running this festival without you? What nerve do you have to say that to me?".
Argyle Wise may think it, she probably does, but she would never say it to the noble's face. "Surely not, Vylisi. I just implore you to think about this. This is the Weather Festival, a time where divine magicks are brought down in blessings. You do not think someone with weather magicks could ruin the festival?".
Alexandre's brow furrows. How could this wretched elf tell /him/ how to protect his festival? "Ms. Wise. If I needed the Ars Academia, I would have contacted you myself. This district of Lydin belongs to /my/ family. You do not tell me what to do, I will protect this bloody festival the way I see fit. Do not infiltrate my belongings again.".
And with that, Alexandre is chucking the mirror out the carriage, the glass shattering below. The reflections of a female face can be seen glistening in the shards, before they vanish, the glass once again normal.
Alexandre finishes his cocktail, a shout up to the driver of the carriage. "Step on it. To the Castors's silly little area.".
----
Speaking of which, the Castors had their own little section set up in the market, yes.
Every year, the Castors would host a dueling tournament. This year was probably the most important of all years for this, with the Royal Family having a representative to watch the duel. Warriors from all families and factions were lining up to battle.
One of whom was Cald Erven. He was lucky that with all the people coming that no one recognized him for who he was, and he planned on winning the prize, 5000 Stanes. Cald came alone, but he was ready for the tournament, a sword prepared for the duel.
Farther along the Castors section was a smith. An Orcish smith. Most people were avoiding Ulg-ven Bor, but one Castor was begrudgingly sent to pick up some weapons. Isaiah Trevant steadying up to the blacksmith, a frown on his face and a bow on the back of his vest. "Alright, green-skin. I'm here to pick up the blades for the tournament.".
Bor grouched silently, grabbing the blades. This should be done quickly.
----
Everything looked to be in order tonight so far. Except for those lurking in the shadows. Angels, demons, vampires. The Vex thought tonight was a great night. A night that soon, they would ruin for everyone.
For now, the Festival goes on as planned.
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