escasriet

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Elphanor: Forced Fates

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Centuries ago, there was a large kingdom called Galana. This large kingdom was a strange one. In the North, ice and snow ruled the lands all year around. The deserts and extreme heat were everlasting as the sands in the South. Forest of red and oranges leaves and lightly chilled winds were perpetual in the East. Lastly in the West, large green trees and seas of blooming flowers were permanent on the landscape with warm air surrounding it. The people of Galana were varied and had their own cultures and traditions. As with any one or more differences, the people clashed with each other. At first it was a long list of disagreements, which eventually became a series of small wars. These wars were fought with just two parts of the kingdom. All this tension, hatred, and bloodshed led up to the final war where all of the four parts of Galana clashed against each other. Complete chaos reined across the giant kingdom. Brothers sled brothers, friends became enemies, and countless of innocent blood stained the landscape.

War leaders, from the four parts of Galana, grouped in the capital in the center of the kingdom for one last battle. During the height of the fighting, the King of Galana finally brought the nightmare of the Scarlet Land War to an end. Afterwards, he made the wise decision to dissolve Galana to give birth to four new kingdoms: Iroldak, Ruthen, Tibolt, and Gai. The king then appointed new leaders for these new kingdoms to be the royal and ruling families. After he did so, the new royal families came together with a decision. In return, they gave him and his descendants the title of High King. With that title, they respected the High King and his powers to council and advise them as well as to deescalate conflicts between them.

After the nightmare of the Scarlet Land War, each of the High Kings has always put forth an effort to step in and prevent outbreaks of warring acts among the kingdoms in an effort to preserve peace. In a way to promote peace they created the floating castle of Elphanor, once the capital of Galana, was created as a neutral space for meetings between the kingdoms. Where the kingdoms' rulers can come forth and build relationships to preserve the peace.

Every child of has heard this old tale before, about why there has always been a High King. Everyone believes that everything that they need to know about the past was more or less common knowledge. Much like the birth of the four kingdoms is well known among the people. Little did do they know that there is blank slate in their history.

Why was this gap important? After all, there are numerous of brief gaps through out history due to lost or destroyed documentation. The thing that made this historical 'Void' so special is because where this mysteries gap beginnings and ends. The Void starts after only a few years after the final war of Galana begins and ends almost right before the last battle. The four Scarred Lands were never mentioned or documented before the Void. Meaning they were formed during those lost years.

The Scarred Lands are four areas inside theses four kingdoms that have not healed since the war. Not just plants or animals never growing/coming back, but there are weird effects in place that makes them hazardous. The people accept the simple explanation of these areas as the result of horrific battles. If anything, these areas enforce why they need a High King as well as to keep this forced fragile peace.

Still even knowing most of their history and the Scarred Lands existing, they still do not stop each individual kingdom isolated itself from those around them apart from necessary trading. Why? Reasons varied from superior pride to simply wish to be left to their own devices. The kingdoms grew even more distant and distrustful of each other. One of the only things they shared is their mutual respect of the High King and will answer his summons.

In the last couple of decades, the four kingdoms have been growing restless. With long time of peace, signs of another possible war are appearing the High King decided to take action. The few people that knew the details of his plan would think it as a foolish idea of a mad man. his plan is to arrange each of the princes and princesses to marry a commoner from another kingdom.

To set this plan into action, the High King summoned the Kings and Queens of the four kingdoms to inform of them that he'll arrange their children's marriage. Rather they agree or disagree with his decision, they have to accept it. Now four commoners from different kingdoms have now been chosen for various reasons and will arriving the floating island of Elphanor where the princes and princesses will also be in attendance.

The time grows near, and the youngsters bound by the King's thread of fate and arranged to be married will soon meet each other...
 
Loud laughter, drunken slurs, and the occasional argument filled the ears of Throncrest citizens walking pass the Happy Mug. Unfortunately for them, the smell of alcohol and piss invaded their senses as well. This sounds and smells were to be expected around this time during the day. It was late evening meaning shop owners closed, the few farmers called it a day, and the tavern's work has just begun. Inside it was business like usual. Well it was a party like usual. It seems like everyday that there would be cheers and clanking mugs to 'celebrate the harvest'. The tables were surrounded by gamblers or members of a gathering. The bar was littered by single men and women. The dark corners were occupied by the loners. Drake and Charles were busy pouring drinks behind the bar. Lily and Rose, sisters and Drake's and Charles's wives, were helping Seras wait on tables and assisting guest. Alexander, an intimidating looking tavern owner and Seras's father, was busy keeping an eye out for drunk troublemakers or customers passed their limits as well as giving a help handing where its needed.

Drinkers of the Happy Mug are always one of three types of people. First type are the single people that hope to find a partner to seal a marriage contract with. Marriage was the only thing in nearly all Tiboltan women's, around Seras's age or younger anyway, minds. It was obvious from how they dress, laughing at everything the other says, and the casual 'let's get married' joke. Everyone of them equally as desperate for a ring before they turned twenty-four. That's when they would be considered to be un-marriageable. Unless that woman comes from a family with a lot of money or high social statues. If she doesn't, life of an old hag awaits her.

Men would try everything in the pick-up book to land a woman. It was pathetic and painfully to witness it, even more so seeing that every Tiboltan man read and used the same old pick-up book. Not even bothering creating their own material. Still, their overused martial worked on getting them a girl wrapped around his arm. Which is all that matters to both parties.

The second group of Happy Mug drinkers, and Seras's personal favorite, are the gamblers and the loners. These people only come to the tavern for one of two reasons: a chance to win a small fortune or drink their sorrows away. Many times before the end of the night the losing gamblers would turn into the loners. When things were running slow, she would join a table for a game or two. Granted at first, and still with new customers, they would give her an odd look and laugh but they wouldn't turn down an 'easy win'- even if she was a woman. Let's just say it wasn't too long before they began to take the waitress seriously when she took most to all of the winnings.

The last and most troublesome group of customers are the matchmakers. These consist of regulars to frequent visitors, from newlyweds to elderly. The matchmaking folks are all too eager to set her and other single women with their sons, grandsons, nephews, friend's kid, co-worker, or 'that one guy from down the street'.... Let's say she really had to learn to smile and bear it. If she flat out refused, they'll get pissed and leave. Which mean a loss in profit and probably future business.

"Hey, Seras! We were just talkin' about ya'! Carlos here says he has a son that would happily run from here to Ruthen for the chance to have ya'!" So the matchmaking games have begun once again.

Alright, time to give them a smile and use a counter move. Picking up the group's empty wooden mugs, Seras gave them her signature sweet smile."Sounds like he would do better with Trish or Lisa, the woman flower in her hair and her friend at the bar. Both wouldn't hesitate to run through all four kingdoms for a fine man like your son, Carlos." She replied making sure they spotted the said girls before making her swift exit.

This move was the best solution with near flawless results for these matchmaking traps. It leaves everyone happy and in the mood for more drinks. If only this trick would work for a certain middle aged serial-wife, a woman that repeatedly married and willowed, named Bunny. Her latest husband died about two months ago, and believe Seras when she says that he was GLAD to go! That woman has made it her sole purpose in life, besides hunting for her next husband, to set Seras up with someone.

"Oh, there you are! I've been searching all over for you, Seras dear! I have someone you absolutely MUST meet!"

Mention the devil in your thoughts and she shall appear with a minion being dragged by said woman. Bunny was shoving everyone from her path while pulling her latest 'Seras's suitor' behind her. The woman practically pushed a horse-face, greased haired, barely kept man that smelled like he crawled out of a whiskey bottle into her.

"Seras, this is Zachery. Zachery this is the lovely Seras I mentioned before. Before you said anything, Seras, you two have so much in common! You work in a tavern and Zachery loves to drink. Though some would say he enjoys drinking a bit too much but let's not worry about that. A man that can hold his liquor is a man indeed-"

"Bunny, I would love to chat but now's not the best time. The place is packed and the others need my help. Besides it would rude to keep customers waiting. Maybe later-"

Apparently, Bunny felt it was her turn and right to interrupt. "Deary, you don't have all the time in the world. Less than a year then you'll be TWENTY-FOUR and off the market! In a NOT favorable way, mind you! I know you and a few young girls have this funny idea of being 'independent'. But it won't be funny in a few years where you'll wallow in self pity because you're all alone and no one will have you. After all an unmarried woman isn't a woman at all..."

The rest of Bunny's rant went through one ear and out of the other. If she tried to excuse herself now, no doubt the woman would make a bigger scene and ruin the other customers' good time. Sure, she has a number of statements she could say that would shock and offend the woman into silence, and it was very tempting to do so. The only problem was that Bunny has the town's loud mouth gossiper, and people actually listen to what she has to say. So insulting her would be bad on not only on her but for the Happy Mug as well. Seras caught Rose's and Lily's pitiful gaze. Before Seras became Bunny's target, Bunny tried setting them both up with horrible matches before they wed Drake and Charles.

But they couldn't assist their fellow waitress from being busy with their own sections.... Exactly how was it more acceptable for a woman like Bunny, that was little less than a black willow with a growing list of past dead husbands in society, than a woman like Seras that just wants to remain single? Not only single but left alone. Now that she's thinking about it, the hermit lifestyle would suite her remarkably! Sadly to led a comfortable life in Tibolt, one must have an income, and a hermit live does not comes with food and soap. Maybe she can go to Gai and live among the tree people? Nah, all that floral would constantly assault her allergies. Both Ruthen and Iroldak are out of the question. Choosing between those two would be choosing which way you want to die. Would she prefer to become a human raisin or a popsicle?

It would be great if she was able to figure out a way to lead a cozy hermit life in Tibolt. Never again would she have to 'smile and bear it', triple sugar coat her words, or hide her hybrid powers. Not to mention... Never. Dealing. With. Bunny. EVER. Again. Ah, what a wonderful and glorious life that would be! Though daydreaming won't help her to go assist the customers or shut Bunny up.

Maybe she could get her hands on some super sticky maple syrup to temporarily shut that woman up? The intelligent people in Throncrest would also benefit for silencing the yapping woman. Though that plan still requires an actual plan and prepare time which wouldn't help Seras to get out of Bunny's long winded rant..... Well lookie here, she IS carrying a tray of full heavy mugs. Who is to say that her arms aren't tired from carrying such a heavy tray of drinks for so long? Then those said mugs just so happen to land on the black willow?

Just as she was about to carry out her plan of escape, her father stepped in. Which FINALLY made Bunny shut her howling screamer. "We have an out of town guest in here today. So I'm going to need my daughter, Mrs...... Longbottom." It was a wonder that her father actually remembered the woman's latest surname. Bunny did get a new one several times a year. Bunny's scolding expression melted into a smile before she nod and the painfully obvious flirtatious manner. "Why of course! Business first I always say! A responsible man is a man after all. I'll leave you two to entertain the guest. Come on, Zachery! I got someone else that you absolutely MUST meet!"

Thank the Lady that her father for bailing her out from Bunny's single torture trap. Deciding to play along with 'entertain guests' idea, she followed Alexander to the bar top where Drake and Charles were busying pouring drinks. "You two are in charge while we're upstairs talking with our guest." Okay, maybe the whole out of town guest thing wasn't an excuse for her to be freed from Bunny. Still doesn't answer why the guest was so important for her father to trust the tavern in the boys' hands. It wasn't like they were incapable of taking car of the tavern. It was that her father rarely left ANYONE else, besides himself, taking car of the Happy Mug and its customers. It wasn't like they never got out of towners. So again, what exactly was the big deal with these 'guests'.

Well, she was going to get her answer soon enough. The pair went up the stairs to the second level of the bar and opened a wooden door. Inside was a high class gentleman standing in the room. He looked older than Alexander and was only wearing the finest of clothes- clearly out of the average working man's wage. His body language spoke of years of discipline and polished manners. The most confusing thing about the guest was the Elphanor crest on his shirt. Was he some kind of noble? Why would a noble be in a dirty old tavern like the Happy Mug? Especially someone from Elphanor.

"Ah. Miss Seras I presume? I came a far distance to see you on the High King's behalf. Come in and close the door, for we have much to discuss." Looks like she'll get her answers, but she had a growing feeling that she'll hate them all. Dealing with the pushy and rude Bunny was looking like a pleasant cat nap compared to this.
 
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It was another day for Genevive, a day like every other in her simplistic way of life.

It began with waking up, mostly by the sound of hustle and bustle outside along the streets lined with merchants, artisans and traders conversing with potential customers. If that didn't rouse her awake it would then be her pet cat, Fey, a hairless thing with only the most selfish intentions. Her cat would paw mercilessly at her face or her stomach, meowing loudly in her ear to feed her. Her clawed paws would scratch into her skin and the sound of meows would slip into the fragments of her dreams until finally she awoke, unable to tolerate the scratches and mewls any longer.

Then, it would be time for breakfast for the both of them. After slowly waking up, stretching out the kinks in her body and blinking away the grogginess of sleep she'd head to her small kitchen, which included a stove and a few cabinets to store food or containers, bowls, plates, and so on. She'd hop to the tips of her toes to open one of the cabinets lining the upper walls of the kitchen, open it up and grab a small, circular container which held her cat's food. It was some peculiar mixture of fish and herbs, made by a local food merchant containing ingredients from anywhere but Ruthen. After peeling off the lid she'd set it out on the counter for Fey, who was already there, patiently awaiting her meal. After that it was making breakfast for herself. It usually consisted of whatever crap she had lying around that day. And this day, it just to happened to be meat.

After retrieving a pan and turning on the stove she began cooking. She didn't care to have it well done, really. If it was rare in the middle, it didn't matter to her. She just wanted something in her stomach and as fast as possible. Once the sizzling of the pan died down due to her turning off the stove and placing the meat onto a place, she could begin her own meal. It was eaten in silence, her mind thinking about anything she possibly had to do today or any plans she wanted to make. It'd be nice to get more food for Fey, as well as herself, and some spices too. A visit to her sister wouldn't hurt either..

Fey meowed at her, grabbing Genevive's attention. It looked to be that Fey finished her breakfast and now just wanted attention from her owner. Finishing up her own breakfast she placed the dirty plate into the sink and gave Fey a pet along her back. The vibrations of Fey's purrs could be felt through her body.

Time to get a move on. After a few more pets and scratches, Genevive grabbed her satchel and headed out into the streets of her town. Immediately, the warmth from the sun shining brightly above spread across her skin and the mixture of different smells swirled in the air. Distantly was the smell of sand, earthy and familiar, and then different spices and herbs… fish and raw meat, the tang of metal, and of course, the indescribable smell of…

The brothel.

It was weird considering such a place welcoming and a place special to her, especially when all that ever happened there was sleazy and sweaty sex. But she grew up there, in that brothel, where the sound of fake wanton moans was always permeating the air and the smell of the salt of sweat was always present. Despite the warm regards she had to the place, she couldn't deny that it was gross having grown up there too. But she respects the work done there, respects the ladies and men who work there, and respects what its done to help her develop as a person. She wouldn't have been able to live the life she currently leads if not for the divine trickery that goes on there.

It wouldn't hurt to visit. Genevive set her course to head to the brothel, the sounds of moaning and groaning increasing in volume the closer she got. A few of the ladies who worked there were outside by the entrance, having a drag of some rolled up drug. The smoke smelt like burning sand or something, but it certainly wasn’t unbearable.

"Hey, Symmet, Tiria," Genevive greeted, knowing these faces. While she grew up at the brothel, they practically raised her along side her sister. They were the ones who taught her most the tricks in deception she knows today.

"Gene, nice to see you," Symmet purrs, voice rich and low and like thick molasses.

"Are you finally going to try out our services?" Tiria hums, her voice higher pitched and sweeter than Symmet's, a stark contrast. She takes another drag of the mysterious drug.

Gene smiled and rolled her eyes. "Not today. I'm waiting until the championship starts and the outsiders start rolling in. The boys from Gai are damn talented," She replies playfully and the two girls laugh, harmoniously, lazy grins plastered on both of their faces.

"Mmm, you have a point, Gene." Tiria replies, then stumping out the lit end of her smoke, flicking it away after doing so. It landed somewhere along the sandstone road.

"If you ever want us or want to join us, you know where we are, sweetheart." Symmet says, eyes half lidded. She stumps out her smoke as well and flicks it away, too. The three of them begin to enter the brothel, through the thin red veil curtain that covers the entrance. The main room of the brothel is unsurprisingly thick with a fog of smoke, mostly from a smoky incense thats constantly lit.

"If you're not here for sex, you're here for your sister, no?" Tiria asks, head tilting slightly. The three of them make their way to one of the many couches littered around the room, the only one currently unoccupied by people. Genevive was glad the main room was perhaps one of the only places where sex of any kind was prohibited -- meaning every couch here was clean and it was guaranteed. The sounds of sex were muffled, but louder than they were outside.

"Ding ding ding, correct." Genevive answers, taking a seat in between the two girls. She leans back against the plush leather seat's back. Symmet takes to lazily dragging her fingers up and down the legnth of Genevive's arm, the light feel of her fingers dragging along her skin plus the incense that blurred everything made her relax heavily into the seat.

"She should be here, somewhere. Not sure if she's occupied." Tiria muses, looking around the main room at the other ladies and men of the brothel, each in small groups and conversing with themselves or with potential customers.

"Myra has the day off, but she's probably cleaning her room." Symmet joins in, eyes looking up at Genevive. Unsurprising hearing about that. Her sister never liked how dirty the job often was. "Want me to get her for you?" Symmet continues. Her hand pauses its ministrations.

"Please and thank you," Genevive replies, and Symmet rises to her feet and drifts off to one of the corridors branching out from the main room. Tiria places her head gingerly on Genevive's shoulder.

"Don't you get bored, not having a job?" Tiria asks, voice much softer than before. She guessed that Tiria was getting a bit sleepy, either due to the drags she was taking earlier or the hazy environment they were in.

"Not having a job? I work as a professional pickpocketing manipulative fortune teller," Genevive replies, jokingly. Tiria smiles sweetly and nudges her.

"You know what I meant," She huffs.

Genevive simply shrugs her shoulders, being mindful of Tiria. "It's an easy way to earn money without really trying. But there is a lot of free time,"

"I just don't get why you didn't join the brothel. It's not the best of jobs, but … you're practically a family here. The customers are gross but pay well and it can be fun. You've lived here nearly all your life, too."

"It's too much of the same-old to me. There's always something new with what I do,"

"Like what? Different gold rings to sell on the market?"

"That, and I'm not restricted to only having sex with strangers all the time. I can pickpocket or get some deals or beat up some stupid kids and steal their money."

"So you like the freedom?"

"...Yeah. I like the freedom,"

Tiria goes quiet and her eyes slide closed but she doesn't fall asleep. Her fingers slide along the smooth fabric of Genevive's dark crimson skirt.

"I'd like to have a different job. But.. Since I've been doing this for so long and I don't know how to do anything else.. I'm stuck here. It'd be nice to be as free as you are." Tiria says, voice still soft and light.

Before Genevive can answer, the sound of footsteps approaching the two of them grows from distant to loud rather quickly. The sound of the steps was odd; it was not soft like the sound of the cloth shoes of the workers here or the light pats of leather boots and soles like customers. It was a click-clack, heeled sound that was unfamiliar and foreign to the normal sounds of Ruthen life in the town. A figure dressed in the finest of clothing Genevive had ever seen was practically marching rhythmically down the corridor she last saw Symmet coming down. Speaking of, Symmet and her sister, Myra were following behind the lavish figure. He was clearly a noble, and looked aged. Genevive knew that he was an outsider, not just because he was noble. It didn't seem like he was here for the services provided here.

The figure finally made his way to where she and Tiria sat. Tiria now was sitting upright, eyes open and wide and her hand was grasping Genevive's tightly in anxiety. The man stopped in front of the two, his cold eyes focusing dead on Genevive.

"Genvive de LaCroix, yes? It comes as no surprise, perhaps, that I am not from here. I traveled far to come and speak to you, privately. If you'll follow me, we shall speak somewhere privately." His voice was mostly monotone, emotionless, showing years of restraint and control. Genevive's mouth was dry and she swallowed thickly. Slowly, she stood.

"I'm not in… trouble, am I?" The thoughts of possibly being arrested for her ridiculous lifestyle circulated in her thoughts, but she knew it was highly unlikely. Some stupid noble official from who knows where wouldn't come all the way here to arrest her. But she never knew.

"On the contrary, Miss LaCroix. We have some manners of heavy importance to discuss." The man then turned on his heel before Genevive could process his words, and went back down the path he walked down earlier. Genevive couldn't only stumble after him, wondering if perhaps the freedom she loved and clung to so dearly was to be stripped from her from this moment on.
 
Kavos Tyr

"Today," Kavos mused aloud to himself, "today is a good day."

The city was lively, the streets crowded shoulder to shoulder with pedestrians, the noise loud and droning, from a thousand different things and places. A festival was upcoming in the next week. A celebration of one of Gai's many lesser gods. A minor festival, in many other places, turned into a city filling, multiple day long affair. Merchants pitched carts at every corner they could find, harassing passerby for just a moment of their time, just a handful of coins. The city hummed with excitement of the upcoming days.

Kavos sat above a particularly busy intersection, seated on the corner of a large tenement house, watching the crowds ebb and flow. His bare feet dangled off the edge of the building as he examined those walking down on the cobblestone below. He would guess, every now and then, what a person was doing, where they were going. He enjoyed playing such little games, especially when people were so busy as today. From up above, it was easy to see. People had the anonymity of the crowd, until one looked close enough.

A pursesnatcher was easy to pick out. Kavos could see them coming most of the time. Pickpockets were more difficult to see, they were usually craftier in their schemes. A man chasing after a lover who walked out on him. Such things happened often in times like these, where tensions and stress could run high. Another woman, leading a young child by the hand through the crowds, shouldering their way through as best they could. Were they looking to get to somewhere, or away from somewhere? Kavos couldn't tell, and shook his head.

Rain began to trickle down from the sky. Such was Gai. Hot and humid, clear skies most of the year, but it could rain at any time, even when there wasn't a cloud in the sky. A thin drizzle came down on the city of Leais. The game was easier now, at least. You could tell those who were from another county, those who were pestered by it, or found themselves wondering at the sight. For those of Gai, it was simply another day. The rain pulled an entirely different set of smells from the air. You coulnd't smell the bakery across the way anymore, the rain kept it down. All you could smell were the trees. Pepper was one of the more noticeable ones. It was planted all over the city. It was strange that way, Kavos thought, how rain changed the way things smelled. But such is life, strange and unusual.

An older man made his way onto the roof and took a seat next to Kavos. They sat in silence for a while, neither acknowledging the other's presence. The older man, balding with hair more grey than not, spoke first. "Who did you fight today?"

Kavos sat silent as he continued to watch the crowds. He gave no signs to whether he heard it or not, but the old man knew the younger well enough to know that he did. It took him time to find the answer, but he gave it, all the while still watching the crowds. "A seer." He responded. "He was younger. Sandy brown hair, and these amazing, stunning dark blue eyes."

The old man pondered for a bit. "Was he good?"

"He was slow. And weak. But he could see my next move, and how to exploit it."

"How did you win?"

"Experience. I had to think how he fought, and find the counter he would throw, and find how to counter that. He could read that too, though. So it became a battle of who could guess the other's moves first. He nearly had me."

The greying man waited before asking, "How is he?"

"A dislocated shoulder, and a badly sprained wrist. A few broken ribs too, probably."

The greying man waited a long time before asking again. Time seemed to run by slowly when they talked about such things. They would never lie, never avoid the question. The conversation was heavy, but the two would talk straight to each other. They owed each other that much. "If I asked you to stop, would you?"

A long pause. "Yes, uncle, I would. Would you ask me to?"

"That is for you. You're most alive when you fight. Something in your battles completes you. You wouldn't be the same without it. And it's your choice, whether you want to change or not. Not mine."

Kavos turned to face the older man. "Thank you."

They both heaved a silent sigh of release. The conversation was difficult, but it was done now. The older man smiled wryly, and patted Kavos on the shoulder. "C'mon, time for supper."

The food was simple, but good. Fruit, fresh bread and cheese. A common meal for the common people. The fruit typical of Gai, grains grown widely, and the milk cheaply acquired from the farms. The family ate in silence, save the noise of the streets outside, and the noise coming through the thin walls of the tenement. The meal was nearly finished when they heard the slamming of a mailed fist against the door. Kavos held up a finger, asking his family to wait. He pushed the old wooden chair backwards, and walked to the door across the hard packed earthen floor. The slamming came again, this time accompanied by shouting.

"Kavos Tyr! We need to speak with you."

Kavos frowned marginally. If they knew his name, and they were wearing armor, this probably wasn't going to be too pleasant of an encounter. A pleasant disposition though, at least might help things go smoothly. He opened the door to see a well dressed nobleman flanked on either side by guards in mail. Kavos dropped his head in a small bow of respect. "My lord, good men, what buisiness may you have here today?" He gave a small smile,.

It was the nobleman that replied. "Kavos Tyr. I have come from Elphanor, and have some important matters to discuss with you in private."

Kavos gestured him inside.
 
Anton's heart pounded in his chest in time to his feet, which thundered across an icy path. He trod on every branch he could as he sped down the way, and brushed his shoulder against every low hanging limb, making thunderous crash as he went. He heard more sounds all around him in this white world: the entire hillside was full of similar crashing sounds. One was actually quite close, perhaps just behind him, making soft crunching sounds in a snowdrift.

Suddenly, a sleek canine form erupted from the snowy underbrush, its powerful legs kicking off the path to bring back speed. It's dark gray fur was muted almost white by fresh powder that clung to every hair, and as it ran, the creature shook, trying to dislodge the snow.

Any normal human being would be scared by a wolf chasing after them, but Anton did not lose a single stride as he ran, trying to match the creature's speed with his own legs. He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists. He even leaned forward, letting branches swipe at his exposed face.

It all failed. Even weighed down and batting its eyes to get rid of the stinging ice, the wolf gained on Anton fast. Its face scrunched up the more the wolf ran, though the look was not quite a snarl. No, a snarl would not cause a wolf's eyes to cross like that, nor would it cause the wolf to take a deep breath and in the space of a moment nearly stopped as a sneeze seized the wolf. The sneeze sending wet powder and snot flying as it dug its paws into the path... its nose, which had been covered in white, finally took on its natural black color.

This got Anton's attention more than anything, and despite himself, his feet faltered from their measured cadence. He finally looked at the wolf fully now, and to second to catch his breath.

"That's why I use the trails, brother," Anton chided with a toothy grin, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The wolf growled a reply, looking away from Anton for a mere moment to shake off the sting of snow in his eyes. His paw was a good tool for this, so the wolf rubbed his face for a mere moment, blocking his view. A soft sound of feet on snow alerted the wolf, turning the attention to the source of the sound.

Another wolf was standing where Anton had been. His almost silver fur and broad shoulders were obviously familiar to the more lithely built canine, because his tail wagged once in recognition.

Then, the race started again.

Together, the brothers sped down the way, their senses hightened with adrenaline. They both could hear every footfall of two more wolves around hundred yards to their left, and more importantly, they could hear a fifth set of crashing footprints, though it seemed much more delicate than the way they traveled. Glimpses of a stag crashing between the teams of wolves came in and out of Anton's view. In the cold, he could see its breath steaming behind it. His focus snapped on that puff that blended into the snow so well: Anton knew it needed to be tired out as soon as possible. The more desperate it was, the more likely it would be that it would fall into their trap instead of, looking for an opening to escape. Soon, they would be heading downhill on either side of a steep, dry creek bed, with the deer funneled into the chasm.

They had done this a hundred times with success, sending the deer down the chokepoint and into a hail of arrows, but still Anton strained his senses for a sign that the hunt could turn for the worse. Anything, even as small as a change in the wind, could spook the stag into moving straight into one of the wolves, and as proud as they are of their teeth, horns were just that much bigger.
His brother, though, had no such concern. A howl erupted from his mouth in his excitement, which was met across the ridge by another wolf. The howl was high pitched and crisp, much like his brother's, making Anton shake his head. Somewhere deep inside, his rational side thought to scold both of them, but he still remembered a time that he had been as excited as they were.

So, they pressed on. The terrain became more rugged as they traveled and the straight game trail disappeared, instead becoming a network of smaller webs stretching under the meager cover of the trees. Anton lowered his body as he went, sacrificing the speed of a fully extended stride for power in his back legs to bound suddenly in one direction. He darted left, then right, then left again through these honeycombed paths in the snow, each time taking a mental note of where he heard the stag.

He let out a short bark when he finally heard the stag taking the gulley below. The cry was confirmed by a similar signal behind and to the left, though suddenly a second sound was heard. This one was sharper, a warning directed at him, and by instinct Anton turned his head.

In his impatience, he had forgotten to look ahead: a creek fed into the gulley just ahead, leaving a deep pit, though after a storm it was hardly more than a shallow bowl to the naked eye. He barked again, telling his brother behind him that he saw the darker spot in the snow.

Anton dug deep for strength in that moment, his body winding with one final strike into a tight coil. His feet nearly stretched past his frontpaws in that last moment, and knowing what he was about to do, his brother cried out. Anton heard a crash behind him as his fell into a snow bank to stop, but it was too late for Anton. Instead, his body snapped back like a spring, and he bounded through the air.

It paid off. Anton's front paws touched down on the opposite bank a moment later, and though he let the momentum carry him forward, he paused. He shook his head as he trotted in that moment, his breath catching in his throat... then came the thwang of bowstrings and the iron tang of blood. His job was done.
This let Anton slow further, and for the first time in minutes, he was able to walk. He eyed the glistening snow all around him as he tried to catch his breath, never sticking to one thing for too long a time. His heart beat in his chest like there was still danger, and it showed in his eyes.

Soon, he managed to find a path down the steep slope, following the line of a recently downed tree that blocked the path from the wind and made the drifts more managable. He was the first to use it, though, as the smell of the trees sap was still fresh in the air, so he had to move slow as he forced his way through the drift.

His feet touched the bottom of the gulley without incident, though Anton continued to tread carefully. Under the snow, he could feel stones from the creek bed shifting under his paws, and though he could not hear a trickle of water under the blanket of white, the slick feeling of sheets of ice still gave him pause... and ample means for someone to catch up to him.

He heard the heavy padding of a wolf from his left before he could see anything. Anton huffed at the sound, his ears falling back on his head and his face turning away. By the time he saw something out of the corner of his eye, his head was already hung low, snout pointed towards the ground.

"You have some explaining to do, boy. I heard your little stunt, even in the middle of a chase," he heard, as soon as the padding of four feet turned into two. He did not bother looking up at the man who said this, though, instead staring into the snow.

The man that approached was large, his thick arms and torso made thicker by the layers of furs he had put on his body, and had restrained with only a blue gambason of quilted wool. His heavy boots trudged him forward until he stood over Anton, and though he never raised a hand against the wolf in front of him, the man's fists still balled tight and his brow furrowed.

"We hunt to survive, son. We stay safe, avoid being rash becajse if one of us is injured, it can hurt the whole tribe," he reminded the wolf, causing Anton's head to sink lower. The man then sighed, his breath so hot it obscured his face as it became fog.

"Go home. Let your mother and the girls know we will be there soon," he finally said, before his big boots turned away. As he did, Anton finally looked up, tracing the large bootprints the man left. He even opened his long maw, his lips about to purse like he was going to speak, and then he sighed, too.
You could not talk if you were a wolf, and you certainly did not challenge Anton's father.

So instead he trudged home as a wolf, shoulders slacked. It was all downhill, so progress was slow for Anton as he pondered a command his father had given him a thousand times.

"Always watch the road ahead." He could swear he heard it in the trees as he walked, as if it had seeped into everything around him. Anton shivered at the thought, and was lost in it all the way past the widening trails until he reached the edge of town, and the familiar smell of the wind blowing over the river.
In his daze, he almost did not notice another smell: this one foul and a bit earthy, not unlike the droppings of a stag. He then noticed three wide lines cutting through the snow, two smolth and narrow, with the other quite wide. Anton broke into a run, knowing the signs from sometime way back in his childhood: a carriage was in town!

He bounded forward as soon as he knew, barely holding back his instinct to howl as he went. He had seen the carriages as a boy before he had started the hunt, and had seen their wares. They were usually traders, who haggled with the women every few moon cycles as the men hunted during the day. Anton would see one again!

He first followed the tracks to the center of town, where the carriage usually stopped, and his eyes darted left and right. Only long tracks even revealed it had been here, though it appeared it had moved onward, following the curve of the river. This only excited him more, making Anton rush up the street, hoping to catch this thing before it was too late. The earthy smell was back and stronger than ever, making Anton run all the faster, then suddenly he saw the carriage, horse and all, stopped in front of a small house of hewn logs, amost identical to the rest except for its peculiar blue door.

He froze, ears perked for any sound. No footsteps on the snow alerted him to danger, no pulling taunt of a bowstring above the roar of the wind. Indeed, the breathing of the large beast before him was the only sound he heard, his well insulated home only giving off an awkward silence. This gave him a chance to inspect the carriage.

It was huge, larger than any sled he had ever seen, with walls of planks sanded smooth and painted with a green paint so thin you could see the grain. Flowers dotted the sides, with blues and whites and yellows that he had only seen on paper. It even had a roof, though the thatching was covered in snow.
Circling this huge wagon, Anton approached the horse, feet padding in the snow. He had seen them before a handfull of times though so far north a beast like this would never be able to remain fed for long: he assumed they ate more than many stags ever could. He forgot one thing, though: as he passed into the vision of the beast, he was still a wolf.

The horse reared on its hind legs, giving out a banshee's cry, Anton yelped, moving back as the beast dropped its massive hooves into the snow. Suddenly, fear removed his magic and he lay there, human in the snow, heart pounding out of his chest. It was then a woman appeared, her face clean and awkwardly smiling as she smoothed a thick wool skirt around her legs. At first, Anton looked at her dumbly, not recognizing her, but soon enough a smile crossed his face as he looked at her features. She was cleaner than she usually was, revealing laugh lines around her kind eyes that were normally smudged with soot; her curly hair hastily braided behind her back.

She was still mom. Anton rose to his feet, ready to speak, when someone else, a man shivering in an outfit of crisp black cloth also appeared at the door.
"Is that him?" He asked nervously, his hands moving to rub his arms. His mother just nodded, trying to keep her nervous smile, while Anton stared on.
"Good, then let's get out of this bloody cold," the man said, before practically teleporting inside. Anton went to open his mouth, but he was stopped by his mother with a look. She had a guest, and that fact seemed to rest heavy on Anton's shoulders. He should not be kept waiting, so instead Anton filed inside right after his mother.

A fire cracked in the fireplace as it always had, but as Anton entered the small cabin, something was off about it. He strained to hear for another, smaller human in the cabin, but even in the rafter beds there was no noise. His sister was gone, too, he was able to surmise, meaning it was just the three of them.
That was not all, either. The entire place seemed brighter, and the fire hotter, as if his mother had thrown one too many logs in the fire. Also, the dried meats and strips of fish he usually seen on the walls were gone, and the crunch of dirt under his boots was gone, even at the threshhold. Had his mother swept the enterance?

Still thrown off, Anton sat near the fire, eyeing the man in front of him. The man, possibly the smallest in stature he had ever seen, began to speak.

"Mr. Erland, thank you for taking time to meet with me. I am sorry to inform you that the High King proclaims you must attend to him at Elphanor. It has been agreed upon by Irodak's king and your father. It is His Magesty's greatest wish to see the kingdoms come to understand one another, and you have been selected to represent that goal."

Anton immediately found the world spinning around him, though his eyes remained on the man. He could not be serious, could he? His eyes snapped to his mother, who nodded, showing this was real. He opened his mouth to object, to at least find a reason to stay, but Anton was interrupted.

"Normally, we would just expect you to comply to your King's request, but I understand your little village makes great use of you when hunting... We do not wish to cause hardship on your family. Arrangements have been made to pay repirations out of the King's granary," the little man said. "I hope that is sufficient."
 
Things were a wave of chaotic business inside of the Ruthen's central castle, Castle Warwick, where the ruling Kaiser and their family resides during their term. While both families have smaller castles, in the East of Ruthen the Pheros family homes their family castle. In Ruthen's West, the other Kaiser family, Basilio family castle is located. Since the Basilio family won the last Grand Tournament, they have living in Castle Warwick for the last eight and a half years.

Things were far more busier inside of Warwick Castle than normal over the past several days. An Elphanor official arrived at Castle Warwick three days ago. It didn't take long for word to spread among Ruthen's nobility and military of their arrival. It was rare for anyone from Elphanor to stay for a visit or visit at all. In regards to Ruthen-Elphanor relations, summons and news were just sent messages. The only time when anyone of importance from Elphanor comes, it trouble. Normally if Ruthen crossed the line with another kingdom, be it trade arguments or trying to expand their borders.

Nothing, at least as far Quinnevere knew, like that has happened in recent memory. What was worse that the visitor seemed to be only interested in the ruling Kaiser, and no formal invitation has been sent to Pheros family to join them. Quinn was concerned but figured if it was anything huge, the Pheros family would know soon enough. Her mother seemed to be unfazed with the talks with Elphanor over in Castle Warwick. Then again, Quinn barely seen her mother over the last couple of days, though this is not unusual. So she could not be certain on the older woman's views.

Guinevere's father on the other hand, it was painfully clear what he thought about them being left out of the loop. She lost count of how many attempts the man to invite himself with some excuse. Some included event planning for upcoming celebrations and the Grand Tournament. When each failed, the whole household knew how outraged he was with his frantic shouting. The servants had the short end of the stick in this ordeal, with cleaning up the disaster her father created.

It wasn't until the sixth day of the Elphanor visitor's arrival that an invite to Castle Warwick had been sent and received. Quinn was training when she heard the relief sighs and whispers of passing servants. Sadly for them, their relief was shorted lived with the details of the invitation. Turn out the invite clearly, and bluntly, spelled out that she was the only one granted permission to come. No doubt there wouldn't be any peace inside the household until Quinn comes back. Perhaps her mother could share the liquor, that the woman saves for such occasions like an enraged husband, with the servants assigned to her father.

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"By Helios's flame, you've grown so much since I last saw you! I'm glad you arrived safely! I swear you becoming more like a women version of your grandfather each time I see you."

A large burly man, the West Kaiser Gregor, approached Quinn when she arrived to Castle Warwick. The man won the last three Grand Tournaments, the last time that Pheros family won one was when her grandfather was East Kaiser. Who had the longest Ruling Kaiser streak, winning six Grand Tournaments in a row before retiring and passing the East Kaiser title to Quinn's mother. Since her mother has been Kaiser, Quinn's family hadn't won one Grand Tournament.

"It's been since last year's Selene Eclipse when you were greeting my grandfather while offering his favorite wine.... Which ended up all over his grave." Quinn lightly joked. No doubt her grandfather appreciated the gesture, but his grave reeked during the night's celebrations and was a pain to clean up.

Kaiser Gregor lead Quinn through the castle. "I'm even more glad that your father didn't try to smuggle himself in here. No offense, but he's been a pain in my side. Especially trying to walk around like he's the East Kaiser. When he only just marriage into your bloodline. He just rubs me the wrong way is all I'm saying."

The Kaiser stopped when they approached a large door, a butler quickly opened it for the pair. The room was a large council room, where one other person was sitting down. A older woman, around her 50s, was dressed in Elphanor colors. Her face had no emotion, making hard to guess what this meeting was about or why the older woman was even here.

"Lady Quinnevere Lovell-Pentaghast Pheros, thank you on the behalf of the High King for agreeing to meet me. I apologize for not including in our talks sooner, but it was by the High King's order to include the current ruling Kaiser."

"So what changed?" Blunt as ever, Quinn asked.

Kaiser Gregor decided it was a good place for him to jump into the conversation. "Turns out the High King is playing match maker with the kingdom heirs. As you know, three of my sons are already married. My youngest son is already engaged and the wedding isn't for another three months. Ambassador Fenox here, tried to convince me to not only break off my youngest's engagement with his chosen betrothed, but also to ignore Victor's birth right and name my youngest as my heir. Needless to say, we've been bumping heads for the last couple of days."

"And this concerns me how?"

"Since Kaiser Gregor's sons are already in relationships, we have to look at the East Kaiser family. Seeing that you are the named heir and not even courting anyone, you'll have to accompany me to Elphanor. High King's order."
 
'Why in the hell did Elphanor have to be a floating island?!'

If Seras had to be forced into a insane scheme of the mad High King, could not be forced into a possible screaming metal deathtrap hundreds of miles from the safe ground. Normally she wouldn't even be allowed on the docks, let alone on the airship. Unless you were apart of the airship crew, no commoners were permitted on the docks or airships. The main reason for that is because this transportation method is strictly used by only nobles and royalty. If one happened to live near a large city, with a lot of noble houses, they could glimpse at the airships ascending and descending.

Before the airship took off, Seras was cool as a cucumber inside and out. The trip would take no longer than most of the day. So a matter of hours for a first airship travel shouldn't be too bad- right? Wrong! So very, very wrong! As the the engines started and the ship took off, panic sucked its claws into the hybrid woman as the landscape became smaller until it disappeared.

Sure, her outer appearance didn't reveal it. Hiding her true thoughts and feelings were second nature to her. No one would be none the wiser to the raging terror inside of her. Unless you spotted the few cold sweat drop on her neck and white fists from gripping the railing for dear life.

Last time she checked, she was a Ifirit and Golem hybrid. Both very much land loving races. She was not by any means a Djinn or a winged type Faaras! Nature did not give her abilities to be flight friendly! Especially surviving the possibility of falling from hundreds of freaking feet! If this airship went down in flames, there is little to nothing she can do. Not to mention..... metal does not fly! Metal is meant for building, protection, and stabbing people!

Why did the first High King decide to have his stupid castle in the air, miles away from the nice, sturdy, and reliable ground? No wonder why the current High King was off his rocker, madness must run in the blood line! If the airship wasn't through tormenting poor girl with its calm and problem free course. A powerful gust of wind blew by would have blew her off the ship if she wasn't clutching the rail with her life.

"Ms Oxbaren!" It was the High King's damn dog, the one that dragged her on this screaming metal death trap in the first place, called out to her.

If it weren't for those him and his master, Seras would be at home! Most likely serving drinks to the tavern's regulars and cutting off drunks "We're hitting a bit of turbulence, it'll be a rough ride for a few moments. Just sit tight and hold the railing and you'll be fine."

What does he think she's doing? Perhaps he mistook her gripping for her life for talking a delightful stroll on the ship? She hasn't moved from her spot since they took off. Her nervousness, new found fear of flying, and the turbulence roughly shaking the airship caused Seras's stomach to lose all of its prior contents. Great. Exactly what she needed, some vomit to brighten up her day. Her miserable ride with airborne motion sickness didn't stop until the airship finally docked on Elphanor.

When the airship docked on Elphanor, it was not a moment too soon for her. Even though she would have dashed off the death trap the moment they landed. Seras had to put herself back together. She might not have been a complete mess, but she's far from a fresh daisy due to vomiting. Luckily, since these ships were used by nobles there were luxurious rooms for them. Being apart on the High King's scheme is that she is treated as his guests. Meaning, no one argued when she went to one of the rooms and cleaned herself up.

It just took a few moments fixing herself before she was reunited with her sweet, precious, and solid land. The one of the few times she wished she could command the earth element was now. Only to lift a giant boulder and smash the flying fake metal to a tiny little pieces. That's the sad thing about dreams, they are just dreams.

The High King's dog was waiting for her as she exited the docks, "It seems that we are one of the first to arrive. Once all the guest are accounted for, you and the others will meet with the High King. Until then, you may do as you like."
 
It was a peaceful day in the castle of Iroldak.

The soft wind blowing outside hit the windows lightly as bits of snow started covering the glass, only to melt a few minutes after. Nobody in the castle stirred as it was the early time of five am. Nobody of course, except Ingram, prince of Iroldak and next in line to the throne. Woken up by the sound of the creaking of the huge gate being opened, indicating his father exiting the castle to gather some men to go out hunting, Ingram had watched as all the hunters left, their thick furry boots making large imprints in pure white snow. His pale face blending in with the soft and light colours that surrounded the castle's interior as well as the snow outside. Lifting his hand to touch the glass, he felt the material cool down as icicles started growing like cracks on the window pane. He sighed.

He's always wanted to go hunting, although he understood why he could not. Ever since he was a child, his parents had told him to stay inside the castle, not that he could do much, for he was always bed ridden. The doctors told his parents that he would not be able to go outside and that he may not ever be able to. However, by some form of miracle, he had recovered when he had grown older. Despite that, he was still not allowed to go hunting with the others for being too weak and frail. It was too late for him to learn how to hunt and he was far too fragile to do much in the biting cold. The castle sang its tranquil tune as maids and servants started pouring into the kitchen, serving the royal family and working for a living. Watching the servants go about in such a calm and peaceful manner, with content on their faces made Ingram wonder. Why is it that some must work hard to get a decent life while others are born with a silver spoon in their mouth?

Glancing at a maid passing by, she looked towards him and bowed as well as smiled politely. "Your highness," Her eyes twinkled as she addressed him and her simple dress had flown beautifully as if to greet him as well. Taken by surprise, he hid his face behind his hands and made his lips turn upwards just a bit. Blood rushed to his face as he nodded at her and waved, greeting her back. Giggling, the male turned back towards the corridors and walked towards the dining area, where breakfast was soon to be set. Grabbing his scarf, Ingram shifted it around his neck, walking towards his parents' bedroom to see if his mother had awoken. His knuckles rapped on the wooden door lightly, his voice soft as he called out for her.

"Mummy? Are you awake?" Calling out to her, he pressed his head gently against the entryway and listened in. No sound. She must still be asleep. Walking away from the door, he travelled down to the kitchen to see what the servants were up to.

~

After an eventful session in which Ingram listened to the servants gossip about the kingdom, he had learnt that there were nobles from Elphanor that were coming to visit. The High King had a request for Iroldak and must speak with the King immediately. Sitting at the dining table, he awaited for his mother and father to take their places accordingly at the obnoxiously and needlessly large dining table. They didn't have that many visitors and the seats were starting to feel like decorative chairs. Lightly poking his food with his fork, Ingram waited for his parents to arrive.

An enormous thump echoed throughout the castle as a booming voice thundered out. "Good Morning!"

Iroldak instantly recognised the voice as his father and nods politely, his eyes glued on the food in front of him and his hair covering his eyes. "Morning..." he muttered softly, his father smiling as he plopped down on a chair. The door made a squeak once again as authoritative footsteps walked towards the table, the sound of a chair grazing the floor evident and someone sitting in it. The queen. Gazing at her husband, she gave him a nod and a glanced at their son, as if signalling her husband to tell him something. Raising his eyebrows, the king stared at the queen, unsure of what she was telling him. She once again signalled him, tilting her head to their son and motioning her hands towards him. Slowly tilting his head to the side, the king was still lost of what he should be doing. Ingram scrutinized the motions his parents did, unaware of what they were trying to do and slightly amused by his father’s ignorance. The queen slapped her forehead with her hand before finally addressing her son. “Ingram, your father and I have something to tell you regarding the Kingdom of Elphanor. Two nobles will be arriving here soon to tell you some salient news.”


Finally comprehending the situation, his father cleared his throat and placed his elbows on the table with his hand covering his mouth. “Yes, there is something we must tell you before they arrive here to pick you up.” Ingram’s head perked up, his fork abruptly clinking with his plate. Turning his head towards his father, he questioned him.
“Pick… me up? What… for?”


“Well son! You see… By the orders of the High King, you’ve been betrothed!”
 
Anton sat across from the small man who had randomly came into his life, slouched against the corner of a moving carriage. He fought the knot in his stomach, head swimming from the last few moments he shared with his family. It may have just been a half-day since they had departed, but his heart the tearful goodbyes to his mother and sisters were just a moment ago. He could still smell his mother’s hair as he held her tightly, and told her it would all be okay.


A bump shifted Anton, pulling him from his thoughts with a smack of his head against wood.


"I didn't expect this to be so rough... couldn't we just walk?" Anton grumbled, eying the man across from him. The man had been huddled underneath furs since they had both stepped in the carriage.


"No. It's too cold for that foolishness," the man replied, his voice cracking. The man whimpered, moving further into his blanket, all the while eyeing the mist coming from his breath. Anton laughed, barely a chuckle... until the next bump made him hit his head again.


It was going to be a long ride south.


Several long, sore days later, they finally made it far enough south where the smell of the air changed. Anton noted the thick, dirty smell in the air, a combination of man and animal and soot that nearly choked him. Even the snow here was less white to his eyes, taking on a soft gray hue… though the country boy did not know what this meant.


Soon enough, the carriage rose over the top of a ridge, and Anton could not help but stare.


Smoke rose in black columns from the hundreds of homes that dotted the valley below, as well as the larger buildings that congregated at the center of town. Everything down there was gray from the stone on the buildings to the soot-laced snow that covered the rooftops. People moved down there, many in clothes of the same drab gray as the rest of the valley, bundles wound tight as they hurried about their business. Connor pawed at the latch with his hand, excited to see the sights, to smell the smells, to experience a city, but the small man cleared his throat.


"We are not trudging through that filth. We are late enough as it is, dealing with all this ice. No, we will be going straight to the air field, then out of this infernal cold," the man told Anton, narrowing his eyes at the younger country boy. The wolf in Anton wanted to shy away from the intensity in the man's eyes... but curiosity won out, causing Anton to turn the handle and blast icy air into the carriage before slipping into the snow.


A string of curses followed him as he ran, free for the first time in days. His legs were slow to get to speed, his muscles in knots from the long carriage ride, but the road was more level than his usual runs in the forest. That helped his feet find footholds in the packed snow, helping him speed directly into an open-air market.


The smell of fish hit him first, the slimy thickness in the air bringing him close to sneezing. Anton choked back his sneeze with a big swallow of air. His throat burned, his eyes stung, but he kept it in.


As he tried to recover by holding his breath, something else caught his eye. Under the colorfully painted canopy of a stall sat a box featuring a picture of a strange creature. The animal’s head was shaped like a wedge for cutting wood, and its short limbs were drawn sprawled out to each side. Most curiously, the creature’s tail was drawn long and thin and curling like a thin trail of smoke. Anton had never seen anything like it before. He had to know more.


He approached the box, wiping the tears from his failed sneeze on his sleeve. Packed tightly together were many of the creatures shown on the box, skewered on a stick and roasted dry like vegetables from the south. A man appeared from the shadowy corner of the booth, his dark skin wrinkling around his eyes.


He flashed a toothy grin at Anton, and began to speak.

"Curious creatures, yes?" The man said, reaching out a dark hand to pick up one of the creatures by the stick. He twirled it slowly in his fingers, showing the charred black skin and revealing that it was rigged with many tiny bumps.


"You have never seen a sand skitter, I wager? They are a real delicacy home in the south... you can try one if you have the coin."


Anton looked at the man, trying to gauge him. His lips drew thin as he contemplated, and before he could open his mouth, he heard a familiar rasping and the sound of small feet.


"There you are!" His little chaperone cried out between heavy breaths, his hands clapping on his knees so he could catch his breath.


Anton smiled back at the dark-skinned merchant. Looked like Anton was having lunch.
 
Jonah tapped his pen lightly against his papers, the words written upon them already forgotten in his mind, and his eyes were looking elsewhere.

The window that overlooked Gai.

Inside his study, this large window took up almost an entire wall of the room, and was positioned just perfectly for the outstretches and farthest recesses of Gai to be seen at one place. From the bustling, busy city streets just in front of the grand castle to small villages dotting along the middle of fields of flowers and crops, he could see what abundance of people and life Gai had to offer. Plus, the scenic views of nature: large, expansive forests, mountains far in the distance and the far far stretches of wild flowers and grasses. Not a single cloud in the sky today, Jonah noted. But it wasn't unusual.

The window also streamed in warmth into the stark white coldness of the study; the light from the sun fell upon Jonah's back and spilled onto some of his desk as well.

He turned his head back to focus on the papers on his desk, the words written on them, the task that was at hand. He's spent enough time milling and thinking over his kingdom's beauty. Now it was onto the kingdom's business.

His father gave him a small task; oversee some of the trade businesses going on between his and other kingdoms, make sure everyone is getting what they ask for and for the right prices and values. A king normally doesn't do this crap, but his father said it had to do something with learning to manage money and business as a whole.

"If you know how to run a small business, you can run a kingdom's business," Jonah muttered under his breath, mimicking the words his father said to him some hours earlier. He guessed it made some sort of sense, especially since it came from someone whose life revolved around running a kingdom in the first place.

He dismissed his thoughts once more. Gods, it seemed like he was getting more and more distracted by his mind now a days. Maybe it had to do with that dream….

Jonah had waken up this morning, horribly early in the morning, drenched in sweat and his skin cold and shaking. He had that dream of a memory again.

Jonah was wandering the halls of his castle. His tutor dismissed him early, considering he finished yesterday's tasks entirely and to a 't'. Hands folded behind his back, back straight and walking tall. Confident. He passed by one of the maids, carrying a tray of tea and snacks. He smiled and said 'hello' to her, and she grinned back. The windows lining the corridor walls were so clean, looking as if there was no glass; light streamed in, cascading upon him and dragging his shadow out long beside him. It was a beautiful day, much like any other, really. A few clouds speckled the blue sky, and occasionally a bird would fly by…

He found his way to the garden. It was a clear, windowed structure within the heart of the castle, encapsulating the oldest and largest tree in all of Gai, as well as exotic, foreign plants as well as native plants to Gai. Inside the warmth was stronger. The colors of all the plants vivid, bright and beautiful. Nymphs were here and there, calmly watering and tending to the plants. Their nimble and gentle fingers were like magic to the plants, something he admired wonderfully.

He greeted a few as he circled around the garden. Their bright smiles would reply, their happiness as radiant as the sun. He was glad the workers here at the castle, especially the nymphs, were not unhappy. He disliked seeing people moping, sad, depressed or simply displeasured with their life, their jobs.

"Would you like to help us water the plants?" One nymph, Lauret, asked. Her hair was as bright as a lit flame; it waved and curled and danced like one, too. Her pale skin was dotted with freckles and occasionally with dirt, and her eyes were as bright and as vivid as the green leaves of the plants at the garden. She held out a watering can. It sloshed around, clearly filled with water, as she held it out to him.

"Of course," He replied. He gingerly took the can from her and got to watering. He got used to being able to tell what plants had been watered and which had not. The trick was simply in the soil color.

Though, he could never be as perfect as the Nymphs were at this. They were always able to give the perfect amount of water, able to trim just the right amount of leaves, give just the right amount of fertilizer and place them perfectly, where they got the right amount of sun and attention. He got pretty close, though. The nymphs taught him well at the art of plant care.

He neared a particular patch that grew tomatoes. The nymph he was closest to, Nyna, loved tomatoes. She usually spent her days planting a new patch for more, or watching as they grew, or tending to them with gentle grace and care. She always grew the largest, the brightest and the most delicious tomatoes. Often times, the meals at the castle contained her tomatoes in some way.

He noticed that the tomatoes hadn't been watered today, or at least recently. He poked the dirt to check and it was as dry as a bone. He wasted no time in watering the poor things. The minute the water touched the parched soil, he could practically see the tomatoes getting plumper. It wasn't like Nyna to simply forget to water or tend to her tomatoes, but perhaps she merely forgot. While nymphs were perfect at gardening, they didn’t have perfect memories.

The silence was calming in the garden. The soft sounds of water touching soil, soft pats of feet, or the light clips of scissors were all that echoed throughout the glass room. There was no need to speak to one another, and even if it was necessary, it was as soft as the other sounds around the garden.

Jonah began softly humming to himself. Yesterday, he heard his mother playing piano. She played a soft, lilting song that was airy and as light as a feather. The melody was stuck in his head. He should ask his mother to play it again…

CLANG.

The metallic bang of something falling hard onto the stone floor of the garden echoed throughout, making Jonah jump. He whipped his head to the source of the sound but couldn't find where it was. The foliage of plants kept it hidden from his current view.

The clip of scissors, the pats of feet, the pouring of water… all disappeared. The silence was no longer comforting. It became stifling. The intensity of the sun's heat grew impossibly stronger; Jonah began to sweat.

Feet pattering slowly on the floor was the next sound. The sun's bright rays disappeared, and the grey tint of rainy skies filtered everything Jonah saw. The feet were not stepping upon the ground. They were dragging across, limply.

The sound of one of the balcony doors was deafeningly loud. The door creaked as if it were screaming, and the sound of feet dragging was also amplified. Suddenly Jonah was teleported to the balcony. Nyna was walking, her feet dragging as if she had weights tied to her ankles, toward the balcony's railing edge. She began to climb on top of it.

Jonah tried to run to her but his feet were stuck, as if rooted like a plant in soil. He tried to scream but he had no voice to. His face felt wet. Whether it was by his sweat, the sudden rain pouring down, or tears descending down his cheeks, he didn’t know, he didn't care.

Nyna was now standing on top of the railing. She slowly turned, perfectly balanced on the rail. Her dark brown hair was covering much of her face, but from what he could see, she was crying tears that weren't clear.

They were black.

Her head whipped upwards so the hair in her face moved back a bit, her face clearer. Thunder struck loudly behind her, cracking like a whip and flashing. She reached out to Jonah and screamed as she fell backwards, disappearing from sight so fast.

Jonah ran to the railing, no longer rooted in place and when he looked down, past the railing he saw Nyna's broken, bloodied body. The color was so bright. A bright red, like her tomatoes.


Jonah shivered in remembrance of the dream. Ever since he saw that happen, those years ago, this nightmare would return to him every now and then. The garden, the tomatoes, Nyna's dead body… Despite the sun's rays upon his back, Jonah felt cold.

Today just wasn't his day, Jonah guessed. He couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to that dream, no matter how hard he tried. Good thing he didn’t have a tutor anymore. He wouldn't want to hear about how he was slacking off.

A light knocking at his door pulled Jonah from his thoughts. His head tilted up and he looked at the door.

"Come in," He called out, expecting his father to be at the door.

And well, he was technically right. His father was there… but so was his mother and.. A stranger. They were dressed in nobility clothing, but not of Gai. He noticed the Elphanor crest upon his clothing. What the hell was an official for the High King doing here? In his study, even?

"Prince Jonah, it is wonderful to be meeting you," The stranger said, bowing. Jonah kept his face impassive, blank. Emotionless.

"You must be wondering why I am here. And right now, all will be answered. Do you mind if I take a seat, Your Highness?"

Jonah outstretched his hand, the tips of his fingers pointing to the smooth leather seat in front of him.

"It'd be rude of me to let a guest to stand," Jonah replied, voice smooth but monotone.
 
The whole ship moved like a tree branch almost too thin to support one's weight. It rocked gently, swaying back and forth as he peered out over the railing of the airship. It was curious, and exciting. The ships soared quickly and gently, the clouds, so close, the ground, so far. Everything moved about like ants, the people in the fields, the children playing in the occasional village, the landscape, infinitely vast. It was marvelous, to say the least. Kavos enjoyed it. His initial concerns were calmed down, seeing the ease of the crew, who moved as easily on the deck as they did on land. Any danger would be negligible, most likely.

It was all rather overwhelming, to say the least. Even the next day, flying aboard an airship, the realization was still sinking in. A pugilist, picked from one among thousands upon thousands, to be wed to a princess of a land he had never seen. His life would be different in many ways, certainly. He moved over to the rope rigging along the sails, running his hands along for a moment before stepping up onto the railing, and moving onto the rigging.

The wind blew past, fast and cold, running through the thin clothing he was still wearing from Gai. The feeling of the air flowing by was exhilarating. He stepped farther up on the rigging, testing the rope. Far simpler than the tree climbing he had done as a child. This was simple in comparison, almost too easy. One hand after another, past the sails to the uppermost part of the mast. He moved onto one of the horizontal beams, keeping a firm grasp on the rigging nearby. His eyes watered as he looked into the wind. Ahead he saw the grand castle, Elphanor.

"Tyr!" The nobleman called out from below. "I would prefer if you were on the deck. Would you mind coming down?"

"Give me a moment, sir, I will be down soon enough!" Kavos called back. The wind made it hard to hear well. Elphanor, the castle in the sky. It looked like a mountain suspended in the air, grand and imposing, and just as immovable. Kavos could never really say that to see Elphanor was one of his dreams, but it was something he had always hoped to do, and now he had. He barely make out another ship, moving in to dock at the castle. The distance made it too hard to tell if there were any others.

He was down soon enough, as they approached the docks and the crew needed to begin their preparations. He went down into the small hold within, and retrieved his possessions. A spare set of clothes, a cloak and blanket were all he brought with him in a sack he slung over his shoulder. He walked down the wooden gangplank and onto the clean cobblestones of the dock. It was remarkably light on activity, only two other ships docked. One was unloading food and other supplies, and bringing them around to presumably some side entrance, and the other looked about ready to cast off. One girl looked fairly out of place. A fine dressed noble stood next to her, while she was dressed in a much drabber garb. Kavos walked up to her, with his own nobleman trailing behind on his heels.

"Now, Kavos, you'll have to wait here at the docks until the other ships arrive. Then you'll be seeing the high king. They should all be arriving within the hour. The sailors are very good at arriving on time, even in inclement weather." The nobleman following paused for a moment and saw the other ship. "Ah! That would be one of the other sloops sent out for the others. It would appear they were a bit early."

Kavos nodded his head to the nobleman in acknowledgement, and then proceeded on to meet the young commoner girl. Approaching her, he gave a small bow. "Hello, Miss. I'm Kavos Tyr. I'm from Gai. Were you one of the ones selected from the commoners?" He asked Seras.
 
~Serafina Renelle
Serafina’s eyes, the color of burnt gold, gazed out of her window as the sunshine streamed in from the cracks in her curtains. She knew that she would be awoken in just a few moments, as her staff moved like clockwork, but the time spent in her room, alone, was treasured. Ever since the incident, the rest of the castle had become more wary of her time spent alone. It was not as if she was unstable, or had violent tendencies, but rather because the incident had broken her heart so deeply that she showed little outward signs of her sadness; perhaps they thought that it would all come flowing outwards if she cracked. A princess who committed suicide would be rather bad for the country’s morale, after all.

“It’s time to wake up, my lady,” called the voice of her handmaiden after a curt knock to the door. Serafina sat up, letting out a yawn and stretching as she did so. Her feet slipped into the slippers ready beside her bed and her feet padded over to her vanity, where she curtly took a seat.

“Good morning, Emma,” she said, her voice soft and still laced with sleep.

“Good morning, Miss Renelle! Today is a rather important day, so we must have you looking your best, yes? ” she said cheerily whilst brushing through Serafina’s hair, which looked a bit like liquid gold in the light of the morning.

“Mm,” she responded, her voice quiet, as her hand reached to warm the goosebumps on her arm away at the mention of today’s events; to think that she would be betrothed, expected to love someone other than Christopher… Her hands trembled at the thought.

It’s okay, Fina. Marriages like this are never truly about love, anyway. Be glad that you could experience true love and pity the ones who lack that privilege altogether. This is your duty.

Her back straightened and she gazed into the mirror and examined her face; there were dark smudges under her eyes from lack of sleep and her face was rather pale. Still, her beauty shone through with a brilliance only slightly dulled. She quickly dusted a bit of rouge on her cheeks to disguise the pallor.

“To represent Tibet, we’ve prepared a lovely burgundy dress. Like the falling leaves, m’lady,” said the handmaiden, smiling as she clapped her hands together.

“You don’t think that would be a bit much?” responded Serafina, eyebrow raised. Truthfully, she was a bit relieved, as she had become a bit sick of the color gold; her eyes were a shade of amber, a tad bit warmer than her golden hair, and wearing gold on top of her features could be a tad bit overwhelming.

“No, miss, not at all - you look positively radiant in the deeper colors, and I think it would help to liven up your complexion a bit,” she said, her eyes flicking to Serafina’s somewhat gaunt face; she had lost weight in the past few weeks after the terrible event that took her lover's life.

“Very well, then. I trust your judgement, Emma,” she responded, standing up and stepping into the dress that the other handmaidens had prepared. The color of wine, it complemented her figure and complexion well without being overdone.

“This is beautiful, Emma,” she said, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes tugging on the corner of her rosy lips.

“I’m glad you like it, m’lady. Now, we’re running a bit late, so we must have you off to Elphanor…”

;;;

The airship ride was a bit bumpy, but Serafina rather enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the ship; it was a nice change from the hushed voices that permeated throughout the castle.

“We’ve arrived, Miss Renelle,” said one of her guards, who promptly led her out of the carriage and onto the docks.

Once out of the carriage, Serafina gaped at the beauty of Elphanor; it was a different kind of beauty from the blazing valleys of Tibolt and entirely breathtaking in its otherworldliness.

“Ah, Miss Renelle, the others should be arriving soon. We’ll have to wait in the docks until they do so,” said one of the nobles.

“Very well,” she said, dismissing him with a slight bow of her head and one of her most radiant smiles. He blushed.

I suppose I’m not the first one here, she thought to herself, glancing towards the others. She failed to recognize either of them.

Those must be the commoners, then? Or are they crew members? she thought to herself, eyebrows furrowing as she examined the pair.

Ah, well, I suppose there’s only one way to find out.


She put a pretty smile on her face and walked to the others, a couple of guards trailing behind her as she did so.

“Hello... I presume you two are also here for the rather sudden calling from Elphanor?” she said, her voice soft as she greeted the two.
 
Anton would never understand airships.

First off, the main deck where cold air whipped about you was not supposed to be for passengers, at least he was told that. Anton found issue with this, and instead allbut lived in the long rigging ropes and pullies and crates of cargo, exploring ashe went, much to the frustration of the deckhands. It was supposed to be a hazard according to them, but to Anton the men who shuffled about, and all the complex duties they had were a source for entertainment. He studied them at their craft from afar, and in return they rarely spoke to Anton, except for a few choice curses as his aimless wandering put him in their way. It was not his fault: he blamed the icy wind in his face and the lands below speeding by on his excitement.

Eventually, night fell after that pong day, and so did he. Atleast, he finally collapsed among a bundle of old tarps that smelled like soot, and snuggled up close, imagining the soot was the smell of his mother's apron after tending to a fire and not the smell of an engine. It was a close enough estimation that he was able to sleep, at least.

Warmth kissing his cheek eventually woke him, and he tossed off the now oppressive tarp. Taking a sharp breath, he sat up, only to find a warmth that he had never felt away from a hearth. The air around him was stifling, and the sun was too bright. He gulped more of this warm air, surprised at the feel of it in his chest. It was dry, tightening his chest. Anton coughed once at this breath catching in his throat.

Someone approached him with soft footsteps, making the planks creak. Anton turned, only to see one of the deckhands, his grizzled fingers holding a tin cup ful of what Connor expected was water. Knowing how the hands had treated him the night before, Anton eased himself up, expecting the man's features to turn cold.

They didn't. A twitch of a smile appeared on the man's features, and for once Anton heard softness in his voice.

"I heard this is your first time in the south... I remembered how rough it was. Would you like so e water?" the man said, reaching the cup to Anton.

Not one to hold a grudge, Anton took the peace offering with both hands, before tipping it to his lips. It too was warm, catching in his throat, but as he sipped he slowly found himself more able to breathe. He nodded a thank you, before draining the cupdown his throat.

"Expect to drink lots of water for a few days," the man added, before departing.

Maybe they weren't so bad after all.

He did not get a chance for more i teraction, because soon, a large shape appeared on the horizon.It looked like a mountain at first,but as the morning sun rose higher, it began to glitter,and the shape took form above the clouds. It was Elphanor.

Even anton froze from his usual fidgeting, mesmarised as he was, giving him a chance to be approached by his little chaperogne. He had dropped his furs for a shirt of red silk, a slight belly stretching it at the front.

"Its beautiful, isn't it? I bet you have already planned to run off and find more things to do," he said to the boy, eliciting a nod from Anton.

In response, the man sighed, before adding, "Remember, you are here for diplomatic reasons. That means you should focus on people, not things. Last time was enough of a disaster, and you did not have people to offend the . We will dock soon, and first impressions are key. That means you are to get off this boat and play nice."

Anton sighed in return, holding a bad mood even as they docked and a bridge was lowered from the port onto the ship's deck. He trudged up, toes dragging, doing his best to smile.
 
"Sad he left so quick," Genevieve's sister, Myra, sighed. She took a seat on her bed.

"Rich nobles like that pay so well… should they stoop so low as a brothel," She continued, musing.
Genevieve rolled her eyes, leaning against the door frame of her sister's room. The cream colored room was immaculately clean, neat and organized. The smell of sweat was undetectable; instead, a flowery sweet scent permeated through the air.

Too bad it seemed now she'd have to leave it all.

Her eyes went full circle around the room and then met with her sister Myra's form. At the feel of her gaze, Myra's head lifted and the two made eye contact. Her sister had a look of sadness and of painful happiness. Genevieve was finally leaving off to go do something more with her life, but it was away from the comforts of her home. Their home.

Genevieve couldn't take that look. She moved to Myra and embraced her in a gentle hug, her head fitting into the nook of her shoulder and neck. Myra placed a soft kiss to Genevieve's temple, one hand clasping behind her head like a mother would embrace her child.
"I've raised you as if you were my own child because we had no parents… now I feel that pain mother's get when their child leaves," Myra said softly into the skin of Genevieve's neck, her breath hot and trembling. She was holding back tears.

Slowly, Genevieve moved out of the hug, but Myra's hands stayed upon her shoulders. "I'll write to you, everyday. I'll send you money so you can live a nicer life than what this craphole of a town can give you. If the kingdom's close enough, if my future husband allows it, I'll visit you during the Selene Eclipse…." She trailed off.

"I will not let you become a memory. I will do my damn best to stay in your life in some way or another, Myra."

Those words were the last crack in the dam stopping Myra's tears. Her eyes welled up and grew shiny and sparkling from the reflections of the tears, and they slipped down her cheeks fast, as if racing to see which could descend to Myra's lap the fastest.
______
It was so hard, finally leaving.

The painful goodbye between her and her sister left a thorn in her heart. The constant figure of Myra in her life was a blessing she never realized she had until it was forcibly ripped from her. Her heart had a gaping wound in the shape of Myra's name, but she would have to ignore the pain. Patch it up and hope it heals.

The man from Elphanor allowed Genevieve to bring her cat, Fey along. As they took the long travel to the one solitary dock that held airships in this area, Genevieve learned much about Elphanor, and of the man in the carriage with her.

"I was actually a Ruthen commoner myself, when I was your age," The man, Mykos, said, eyes focused on the sandy landscapes of the outskirts of the Ruthen kingdom. The sun was high in the sky and blazing hot. Fey was curled up and snoozing away in Genevieve's lap.

"Hmmm? Really, Mykos?" Genevieve replied, eyes half lidded as she looked over at Mykos. He still didn't return her gaze, still admiring the sandy outskirts.
"Yes… Though my town was a bit… higher class. Closer to the nobles and royalty. Far from the sandy wilderness," He replied. His head finally turned from the window, and slid over to where Fey was curled up. He seemed wanting to pet her, or hold her, or do something with Fey.

"Do you want to pet her?" Geneieve asked.

"…Yes, actually. One of the reasons I let you bring her along," Mykos replied after a hesitant moment. Gingerly he reached forward, outstretching his hand. He simply plopped it onto Fey's had, which awoke her with a start. She meowed loudly, then yawned, and Mykos's hand flew away from the cat.

"You woke her up. And that's surely no damn way to pet a cat," Genevieve lightly scolded, clicking her tongue. "Take off your glove,"

"Excuse me?"

"Take off your glove. You don't pet cats unless it's with a bare hand."

More hesitancy, but the glove was pulled off. His pale hand, veiny and dry was now free from the confines of his leather glove.

"Now," She leaned over and her delicate fingers encircled around his wrist, pulling it gently over to the cat. Fey was now wide awake, watching everything as it happened with mild curiosity.

Mykos's mouth opened and closed several times, perhaps trying to find some sort of convincing protest to this highly inappropriate behavior but nothing came out but air. Genevieve found this to be highly amusing, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
She brought his hand to Fey's hand and showed him how to pet her. Instantly, Fey began to purr at the attention she was brought. Slowly, Genevieve's hand slipped from his wrist and he was left petting Fey all by his lonesome.

"There you go." Genevieve leaned back in her seat. "Try scratching behind the ears,"
_____
The rest of the trip went without much hitch. The casual conversation between Mykos and Genevieve continued. It would grow silent occasionally, when they both knew it was better to stay silent. Genevieve was glad she had someone to talk to, at least, on the long, long trip ahead. It made leaving everything behind easier to cope with. She wasn't constantly thinking about the image of her crying sister when the two of them spoke of Ruthen or of the future for Genevieve.

The trip upon the airship was … worse, really. Mykos had to do whatever the hell he does, mostly monitoring the rest of the ship to assure everything was running smoothly. Genevieve didn't mind that, really, she wanted to be alone for the duration of the airship ride anyways. But even if she wanted the silence, the loneliness, didn't mean it made it worth it. She spent most of her airship trip within her small cabin room, laying upon the thin mattress and staring up at the wooden ceiling. Occasionally the patter of feet could be heard, distantly. She tried not to mill over the thought of all the things she was leaving behind, trying to focus on the positives, but that sort of thing is easier said than done.

Luckily, however, the airship ride wasn't as horrendously long as the carriage ride. Mykos came to her door and announced their arrival, which Fey answered with a loud meow for Genevieve. Shortly after receiving word, her things were gathered and Fey was bundled into her arms. She went upstairs to the main deck, and immediately took in a large gulp of air. She almost choked on said air; it felt too… fresh. It smelt of nothing but air. No scent of earthy sand, no scent of fish or meat or of metal coins and incense. She felt as if she was floating -- and it mostly because she was. Her connection to the ground was severed, her Golem powers feeling useless currently. She felt extremely airy and it was damn weird.
Is this how djinns feel? Genevieve distantly wondered.

Mykos escorted Genevieve off the ship, where quite a few others were already, each patiently awaiting and some in conversation. She narrowed her eyes and looked them each over. The nobles were really easy to pick out, and the commoners were as well, for obvious reasons. But it was a weird culture shock to see such different faces in such different clothing. She wasn't in too much of a mood for her normal cunning trickery, so she slowly made her way to the group, but kept her distance, merely observing everyone else.
 
Kavos Tyr

Kavos turned to meet the newcomer with a light smile on his face. "So it would seem, Princess, so it would seem." He bowed his head in greeting as he spoke, and set his small bag on the floor. He noticed two more newcomers hanging back as he looked over Genevieve's shoulder. He couldn't blame them. Such a tear in one's life must come as a shock, and he supposed that not everyone would be the keenest on conversation. He shrugged, then focused his thoughts back to the princess in front of him.

Kavos had heard more than one story about how horrible nobility could be. He couldn't claim to know them very well at all. He had heard stories of nobles kicking people out of their homes and confiscating their things and leaving farmers with barely enough food to get them through the winter, among many. Kavos didn't think they were that accurate, really. Stories tend to get exaggerated over time, blown out of proportion by angry minds. He doubted that anyone he knew had ever personally met someone who had been the victim of some nobles actions. Personally from the few he had met since the one that picked him up and his doorstep, they seemed like regular people. Heads in the clouds (literally and figuratively) and a different set of priorities, but regular people nonetheless.

"Greetings, Princcess. I'm Kavos Tyr, of the Gain city of Leais." He said respectfully.
 
~Serafina Renelle
"Princess Serafina Renelle, of Tibolt. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tyr," she responded, nodding her head as she did so. She had never been this personal with a commoner before and, resultantly, she couldn't help but allow her eyes to rake over his appearance. Interacting with a non-noble this closely, besides that of the castle staff, was rather surreal - chatting with one even more so. She reminded herself that this man, or one of the other male commoners arriving, would likely end up being her future spouse; a soft sigh escaped her lips and her chest tightened a bit when she was reminded of it. Gently shaking her head, she returned her focus to the present. Worrying about the future would do her no good now.

"Your journey here went smoothly, I hope?" She said, her countenance shifting back into one of pleasantness. Her hand reached to toy with the citrine pendant around her neck - it was a nervous habit.
 
Jonah was being whisked away to Elphanor before he could even breathe out a single breath of air or simply blink. The meeting with the Elphanor representative was quick and to the point. There was no real need to draw out such a simple meeting more than it should. Jonah was simply to be married off to a commoner from a randomly selected kingdom that wasn't his own to help console the drift starting to divide the kingdoms. Jonah knew that as a royal, these sorts of things were inevitable. Courting someone you likely didn't know for the sake of betterment to one's kingdom or realm was not uncommon and Jonah was prepared for it to happen.

Leaving his family and his home was harder than he thought it'd be. The comfortable life he was leading was going to change. He'd be wed soon enough to a stranger - a commoner, as well - and he'd have to shift his attention from his studies to trying to be a decent husband. He hadn't needed to be so close to someone in a long, long time. Not ever since Nyna….

He shoved the thoughts aside as he finally finished packing his things neatly and compactly into two chests. Saying goodbye was not made easier by his crying mother and his father, who acted like Jonah was going off to war and was for sure going to die. He kept a brave front, however. Now is not the time to be weak, to suddenly crumble. He now had his entire kingdom to represent.
The trip to the Elphanor airship docks was uneventful. The man who spoke to him about the whole plan of arranged marriages was escorting him along the way. The two occasionally exchanged pleasantries but they died out pretty quickly. Jonah wasn't much of a talker, and especially with what was going to happen, he didn't want to spend his time talking about useless topics.

Thanks to the strong and quick breed of horses Gai is known for, the carriage ride wasn't drawn out long. The man escorting Jonah commented that they were actually ahead of schedule.

The airship ride was about as uneventful as the previous carriage ride. Jonah was no stranger to the weightlessness of the airships, seeing as he was Djinn. Being so distant from the solid ground was a welcoming feeling, and set to ease the nerves Jonah didn't realize was bubbling within his stomach. It's been way too long since Jonah had ridden on one of these airships. The last time was when he was much younger, invited along with his parents to a social event the High King coordinated. The air was as fresh and freeing as he had remembered it all those years ago.

A short while later and the airship arrived to Elphanor docks. Two crew members took care of Jonah's things, carrying them off to the castle of Elphanor. Jonah took a step upon the dock, and saw that a group of people, nobles and commoners, congregated together. He noticed immediately a strikingly beautiful blonde woman, clearly of royalty by the looks of her general upkeep and style of dress. She also looked slightly familiar. Perhaps she was at one of those balls that he was required to attend…

He calmly strode up to the group, deciding that getting to know these people wouldn't hurt him. He didn't know whom he was to marry, and seeing as everyone was from different kingdoms, it would be an enlightening learning experience. Despite the tang in his gut telling him to avoid the socialization, he thought it as beneficial to join in conversation.

"I do not hope to intrude in the conversation," Jonah began, luckily not interrupting the two of them. He heard the name "Serafina Renelle" and it rang some sort of bells in his head. "I am Prince Jonah van Heliospect of Gai. Pleasure to meet you both," He introduces, bowing his head in respect.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think I've met you before, Princess Serafina."
 
~Serafina Renelle
"Oh, yes. I'm almost certain we have, Prince Jonah," she responded after a slight curtsy. She mentally sifted through the hordes of faces from her time in court in an attempt to place where she had met Prince Jonah - she found herself placing his face at a ball, or something of the like. God knows she had attended her share of balls. Truthfully, Serafina felt a bit relieved by the presence of another noble; it was not that the commoners frightened her, but rather that she had felt a bit out of place beforehand. The hand toying with her pendent fell to her back, where she clasped her other hand loosely and allowed a genuine smile curve onto her lips.

"I'd say it's nearly impossible that we haven't crossed paths, considering all of the court events I've had to attend... I'm sure it was the same for you," she said, her mind drifting to the sheer amount of frivolous occasions she's had to take part in. So many dresses, so many suitors... It all tends to blend together after awhile.
 
Kavos withdrew from the two, noting the ease with which they communicated that he was only a hindrance to. He found himself letting loose a long, silent breath he didn't realize he was holding. He walked a comfortable distance away, turned to the railing lining the edge of the docks, and relaxed with both elbows supporting his weight. His head drooped between his shoulders, and he gave a few sad snorts of laughter. This was the last day he would have to be the street brawler of Gai. The other commoners here, they were going to have to change into a new life. Perhaps one was a fisher, finding they would next day be a noble. It was a sad realization to think that most of his life would change. And not because of something he had done, near as he could tell. He was chosen by chance. It both a dual frustration and luxury for Kavos to have something he didn't make for himself.

He leaned farther out over the edge. As the fisher should no longer fish, so too does the fighter no longer fight. He Kavos closed his eyes, and felt the wind blow around him. His mind was still for the moment, mulling over his thoughts, when another thought struck him. He could still fight. Not perhaps with his hands, but in whatever way he could. Fight against the restriction he would be posed with, fight for his family back home, fight for whatever cause he could find. And he leaned back from the edge, and laughed once more, earnestly this time.
 
After Seras left airship and the horrid memory of her air trip, the realization that she was indeed a mere commoner in a noble's world. After all, as far as she could see, the entire mass of land looked like the old fairy tale stories that parents told their children. The castle itself was far larger than any building back in her home city. Not to mention, it was just so..... green with sprinkles of bright colors from the blooming flowers. Sure back in Tibolt, there were a few flowers and grass but the trees were a mix of yellows and reds. There was nothing like the lush looking landscape before her.

Well, at least she should have a few moments to herself.... While trying to distract herself that she is on a floating island. With a place this large, what the chances of her immediately meeting another candidate in this scheme of a mad king?

"Hello, Miss. I'm Kavos Tyr. I'm from Gai. Were you one of the ones selected from the commoners?"

By Amalthea's undergarments! She literally just got off the flying death trap, and now she has to figure out how she should act on the fly. Back at home, Seras just needed to be the friendly tavern waitress. A warm personality to make customer feel welcome but not enough to confide in her like a friend. Sure some 'friendly waitress' traits could be used, but these people are not Happy Mug customers.

Seras turned back towards Kavos, and she'll admit she was a little relieved. Judging by his clothing, he wasn't a prince. Wait. Did he say 'selected commoners', meaning she wasn't the only one? That would make sense, why should only one royal marry someone far below their rank? Her escort just told her she was to wed a prince, and didn't mention other commoners. So at least she was already getting something out of this conversation.

"Hello, Kavos. I'm Seras Oxbaren from Tibolt. Honestly, I'm glad I ran into another commoner. I don't know about you, but since the Elphanor noble arrived in my town everything seemed so rushed. I can barely keep up." Perhaps for now it would be best for her to a relatable girl next door type with the other commoners.

Okay, now she had a game plan to how to handle the other commoners. Dealing with a royal will be difficult to say in the least. The east side of the city is upper class as it gets, and the people living there are low ranking nobles that most likely bought their titles instead of coming from a long bloodline. No one from the royal family would be caught dead in Thronecrest let along her middle class section of it. So she had zero experience with dealing with royalty. She assumed you do anything stupid and to just bow, stay quite, and pray for them to quickly leave.

With the mad king's plan, it messes up the how she should react to them. Yes, it might be wise to stay into respecting their positions just as she would if they riding down the street in some fancy carriage. Treating them as such would only feel organic for so long, given the situation they are all in. The bit would feel forced if she kept the commoner, that realizes their place and position below nobility, after they knew each other more. Yet a commoner cannot be informal with a royal.... Right?

Well, at least the royals will most likely pay them no mind. To them, Seras and Kavos must look like dock workers that are taking a break or something. She could rest easy for a bit longer.

“Hello... I presume you two are also here for the rather sudden calling from Elphanor?”

BY AMALTHA'S UNMENTIONABLES! Why can't Seras keep her mind mouth shut? Every time she thinks something won't happen, it happens. Unlike Kevos, it was obvious that the woman came from royalty. The fancy clothes and jewelry were a dead give away, but she seemed to have an refine air of grace around her. Great, there goes her plans and peace of mind.

Luckily, for her though it seemed that Kevos was a talkative sort. Seeing he was the first to greet the princess. Out of the other royals, it just had to be the future queen of her homeland. Amaltha is just smiling great fortune down on Seras today, isn't she.

"Greetings, Princess Serafina. I'm Seras Oxbaren, I'm also from Tibolt but from a small city called Thronecrest. It's a pleasure meeting you, your highness. The trip here was.... memorable being the first time on a airship."

Maybe Amaltha was lifting Seras's bad luck with the entrance of yet another royal. It seemed the two already knew each other, no surprising with them being future rulers and all. It seemed that Kevos was just as eager to get out of the unnatural situation as her. Though he was making a beeline for the docks. There was no way she was going to get any closer to those damn airships.

Besides, she could use a few moments of solitude. The gardens caught her attention and the foreign plant life could service as a decent distraction. Plus it wasn't that far from the docks. So if one of the High King's men needed to round up all the youngsters, she wouldn't be hard to find.
 
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