Holiday Vignette!

[Jasmine]

Jasmine finished tying a red bow in Siela’s hair, humming quietly as she did. Tonight was the annual Midwinter Ball given by her brother, King Eric. This year, as last year, the holiday had a new name, "the Feast of the Ancients." It was a winter tradition brought to Moriah by her husband, Zerith. She, Zerith and Siela had been away from Moriah for several months now. When they got the invitation to come to the ball, Jas had insisted that they take a small break from the Ixian Knights and go home for the ball. It felt good to be back home with her family. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her new friends within the Ixian Knights, but there was just something about being home that warmed her heart.

She set Siela down on the floor, keeping an eye on the little girl as she started crawling away. Jasmine still had a few finishing touches to do on her own hair and face before they would be ready to go to the ballroom. However, it did not take the princess long to be satisfied with her appearance. She wore a capped-sleeve gown of dark blue trimmed in silver (her favorite colors) and wore her long black hair down and loose. A small section from each temple had been pulled back into a decorative butterfly-shaped clip to keep her locks from falling into her face. Smiling, she scooped her daughter up and nuzzled her face.

“Come on, let’s go get Daddy and then we’ll go downstairs.”

The 10-month old giggled at her mother’s nuzzling. She wore a knee-length dress of red with short sleeves and a white collar, white stockings and little black shoes. Her black hair, which was now finally long enough to do something with, had a red bow tied into it. The dress had been a gift from her grandmother. Thus far she had done anything to mess it up and Jasmine hoped that would last for the whole night. With Zerith in tow, the small family made their way down to the grand ball room.

Eric, king of Moriah, loved this time of year. The previous year, Zerith had convinced him to import a huge pine tree for the ballroom and to decorate it. Apparently, it was a tradition where Zerith came from. The young king had been dubious about the idea at first, but it went over so well that he decided that he would do it every year. Now, a huge pine tree filled one corner of the ballroom decorated with garlands of beads, decorate glass balls and a wide variety of other decorations. At the very top of the tree perched a magnificent gold star. Beneath it was a pile of brightly wrapped gifts.

The pillars that stood at the edge of the ballroom supporting the vaulted ceiling had holly garlands wrapped around them. Candles were arranged in various places giving the large room a homey feeling. He smiled as he watched his guests filling the room. Snacks would be provided a little bit later. For right now, he just wanted everyone to get in and chat for a bit. He looked down as he felt a pair of small hands tugging on his.

“Daddy? When do we open presents?”

Eric smiled as he bent and picked up his son. “You’ll just have to be patient, Dylan. Don’t worry, we will be having present time. Why don’t you go see if Auntie is here yet?”

“But she’s already here, look.” The four-year-old pointed as Jasmine entered carrying Siela with Zerith walking a short way behind them. “Hi, Auntie!” he called out as he waved and Eric set him back down. The little boy hurried over and wrapped his arms around Jasmine.

Jasmine smiled and returned his hug one-handedly. “Hello, Dylan. Are you having a good time.”

“I guess, can’t open presents yet though. Daddy said so.”

Jasmine laughed, “Don’t worry, Sweetie. Your presents aren’t going anywhere.”

Eric had come up to them by that time and neatly retrieved his niece from Jasmine’s arms. The tiny princess laughed at her uncle’s silly faces as he held her. Jasmine laughed as well, chatting with Eric for a few minutes before slipping away to find Melody.

An hour or so later, the ball was in full swing. Jasmine watched fondly as Zerith ‘danced’ with Siela. He held her hands as he stood her on his feet and moved carefully. As the song ended, the proud daddy picked his daughter up and kissed her cheek. She giggled at him then yawned. Jasmine slipped up beside them wrapping an around Zerith.

“Looks like someone is ready for bed,” she said with a smile as Siela laid her head down against Zerith’s chest. “Nancy can take her for us. She’s already herding Dylan that way.” Zerith nodded and the two parents walked over to where Nancy was trying in vain to convince Dylan that he really was tired. The boy was yawning and his eyelids were heavy, but he still refused to admit to being sleepy. Seeing the couple coming with Siela gave Nancy an idea.

“Well, I know you’re not sleepy, Dylan, but Siela is. Do you think you can help me put her to bed?”

Dylan’s eye lit up briefly, he loved doing anything with Siela. “Yeah, I think so. Can we read her a bedtime story?”

“Certainly,” Nancy told him as she took the dozy little one from Zerith. “Good night, Lady Jasmine, good night, Lord Zerith.”

Dylan looked up at his aunt and uncle and gave them both quick hugs. “I’m going to help Nancy put Siela to sleep,” he told them proudly. Jasmine bent and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead.

“Make sure you do exactly what Nancy tells you to then. Otherwise Siela might wake up again. Good night, Sweetie.”

The little boy nodded and hurried off to ‘help’ Nancy put Siela to bed. Jasmine watched as they moved down the hall and pulled Zerith’s arms around herself. “Mmm … now we have the rest of the evening to ourselves, love.”

Zerith smiled as he led back through the ballroom and out into the gardens. He had a special surprise for his wife. “Come, let’s go outside for a bit.” He led her to small area of the garden that was closed off by hedges for a more private space. “Close your eyes.”

“Zerith, what are – “

“Just close them, please?” he asked again, only leading her further when he was sure she was not peeking. Slowly, he led her into the small space. Their feet crunched softly as they walked to the center. “Okay, you can open them now.”

The princess opened her eyes then gasped lightly. The crunching she’d heard and felt was fresh fallen snow. A good inch or two of the pure white snow gleamed in the light of the moon, covering the few decorative statues in this area and dusting the hedges around them. “How did you…?”

“Very skilled weather mages,” he cut in smiling widely as he took her hands. The music from the ballroom drifted down to them softly. “It’s only for this section, and it will all melt tomorrow. But for tonight a winter wonderland just for us.”

Jasmine smiled as she stepped into her husband’s arms and they began to dance beneath the moonlight. As they moved slowly around the garden, Zerith led the way beneath an arch, at the center of which hung a small sprig of leaves and berries. He paused under it and looked deep into Jasmine’s blue eyes.

“I love you, Jasmine, Happy Feast Day.”

“I love you too, Zerith,” she rose up on her toes and kissed him softly. “Happy Feast Day to you, too.”

Smiling softly, the young couple resumed their kiss as they enjoyed the moment for all that it was worth.

[Requiem of Insanity]

“Oh now really, Aerith, your dropping the tree!” Cassandra chided angrily. Her adopted daughter, Aerith, sheepishly lifted up her end of the pine tree a bit higher and rebalanced it. She was having trouble as it was trying not to get the thistle stuck within her eye nor scrape it against the roof of the cavern ceiling. The artic like temperature bothered her as she felt a shiver once again crawl along her spine, the crunching pavement of the undisturbed dirt rattling in her ears.

“My apologies, mother,” Aerith replied quick enough, moving in tow with her mother once again. Like sure had changed for the red head since she joined up with her mother, becoming a certified member of the Ixian Knights to boot. She had met several other soldiers and met all sorts of new and interesting people, but her one true friend was always her mother, Cassandra Remi. She understood the beast within her heart, found the soft tender bits nobody else could see, and she loved her for who she was.

It also helped that she had a few skeletons of her own in the closet, physically and metaphorically. Both women were serial killers, though the art, the pedigree in which Cassandra operated was in a class that Aerith just couldn’t reach. Not yet, anyway. Her dark mother had promised to teach her, and she had kept to her promise with a diligent work schedule to keep the young mistress busy. Poisons, herbs, knives, veins, anatomy, these things she could label off the top of her head easily. She did use to own her own flower shop, and did poisons on the side. Yet now she had darker thoughts clouding her mind, a fog that didn’t incapacitate her or hamper her judgment, but shrouded a portion of her psyche.

Each passing lesson brightened the black clouds that hid the secrets from her, and Cassandra continued to feed her desires and train her more each day. All save for today. On this night, a serene night that was blissfully starry and cloud free, Cassandra was in a rare mood. She was smiling, laughing, she even stopped to give a small holiday treat to Azza Ambrose, her most hated nemesis Jensen Ambrose’s daughter. The child naturally took the candy, then discarded it in the nearest waste pin, making sure to bury it deep.

Now they had a Yule time tree, and she was in a frolicking mood. She dragged the tree forwards with her daughter in tow, and at last they reached the tunnel exit, a swinging portrait hole opening up. Cassandra tilted the tree upwards, and Aerith had to compensate quickly as she climbed into the library. Dusty, forgotten books surrounded them as Cassandra shut the portrait and lifted her sneaking suits mask upwards to her nose and letting the fabric snap onto the bridge of her nose. Her eyes flashed with mischievous intent and Aerith did likewise, though the snap on her nose rid upwards and nearly took an eye out.

They walked through the halls in utter silence, both wearing nothing more than stockings on their feet. The cold stone floor sent chills along Aerith’s feet, her teeth chattering on the inside of her mouth. They walked to the outside courtyard, passing several guards along the way and darting into shady alcoves to avoid them. It took nearly half an hour but they reached their destination. Aerith was a bit miffed to learn they simply entered the mess hall.

“Really?” Aerith couldn’t help but ask. As she stepped forwards she saw something shift and her eyes narrowed in the dim light. Cassandra smiled as they dropped the tree off into a prepared tree holder. Aerith held the tree as Cassandra tied in the screws. Then she turned to the shadows in the room and let out a squeal of delight.

“Oh you did bring it! Thank you Laconic, that will be all! Go do some complex math equations or something. Whatever the hell it is you robots do,” Cassandra rushed forward and Aerith felt a bit disturbed to see the robot step forwards, his chameleonic armor plating reforming itself into its regular mode from the armor suit it once was. Cassandra lifted a tiny Obsidian box, gold edges lining it ornately in gilded demonic runes. Cassandra tapped the box lightly before setting it down, and then she turned to Aerith.

“We caught a spy a few days back, and I’ve been saving him for tonight. Tonight is special, and do you know why?” Aerith shrugged, shaking her head. “Do you notice something peculiar about this night?” Aerith took a moment and looked out the window. When she gazed into the heavens she found the moon softly being blocked by a large shadow.

“Well I’ll be,” Aerith said lustfully, letting herself get lost in her favorite pastime. One thing Aerith loved as much as killing was Astronomy. She knew all the constellations, the planets, the formations and the lore behind the demi gods named after certain planets and stars. It was what she turned to when she needed a break from everything in her life.

Cassandra was no different, encouraging her to develop more into her interests. The Gisela Reaper, most didn’t know, was a fairly decent actor. She loved theatre, where she could don a mask that allowed her to be anyone was so appealing she studied to great lengths much of the works of brilliant script writers. And she was also a sucker for romance novels.

“You’re probably wondering why you are here,” Cassandra whispered seductively to the man on the table. A spasm and a groan, eyes darting left and right. Aerith saw him gaze to her, and all she did was wave politely.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Cassandra took the box and opened it, laughing lightly as she rounded along the edge of the table, holding a fillet knife in her hand. The tip just grazed the flesh of the naked skin, making him squirm even more as the tip was dangerously close to breaking skin.

“You know what’s special about tonight?” Cassandra said excitedly. “The Winter’s Solstice. A Lunar Eclipse will shroud the moon, and the night will be at it’s coldest. It’s already freezing most of Salvar into nothingness, even the plant life feeling the cold nip of the frost. It’s on this special night of nights that one like me can be ever closer to the one she loves. Tonight I can be as cold as I want, for I have no audience to play for. I usually give my all for the moon, but tonight,” Cassandra gripped herself tightly and laughed again. “It’s all for myself.”

“Crazy bitch! Intel said you were dead! You’re not dead!”

“Oh my, what a powerful observer. Care not one bit about your fate, just how wrong it is that you got bad intel. Still, that’s of no concern to me. All I want is to hear you scream me into the winter season. You, are in effect, the first kill of a new year. Another notch to my belt, so to speak.”

The knife whisked up his side until it probed his face. His eyes looked to her full of fear, and with a snarling grin she stabbed the knife into his cheek, eliciting a scream so loud that Aerith was sure somebody heard. Yet when she looked outside she found two guards walk by not even perturbed by the wailing agonizing screams of Cassandra’s playmate.

She turned her head to the box, and saw it was open. When Cassandra stabbed the knife into one of his nostrils and pulled violently outwards, his screams echoed in the mess hall, before the box reached one ghostly hand up, black lines of eldritch energy sucking the screams deep into the box.

“Cool,” Aerith said in a daze. She felt the piercing hazel eyes of Cassandra looking to her and she turned to find something in Cassandra’s hand. A rolled up leather pouch of some kind. Aerith gingerly took the roll and unraveled it, finding a rather auspicious and finely crafted kitchen knife set. The roll, as it turned out was an apron.

“I know you hate getting the blood on your clothes, so I figured a new set of tools to replace the old rusty ones and an apron would be the greatest way to celebrate the new season.” Cassandra lifted up her paring knife and smiled like a mother would to a child who had just open the present they always wanted. Aerith was speechless as her fingers moved in a trance, tying the apron on. Cassandra sniffled proudly. “You look beautiful,” She whispered to her. Aerith lifted up the paring knife and smiled back to her mother.

“It’s the perfect gift, thank you!” Aerith managed to say finally. “Can we…do you think…we could share this one?”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” The victim screeched, wailing in pain as he did so.

“Yes, yes we can,” Cassandra said taking her hand and guiding her to the table. Cassandra stood behind her, wrapping her arms lovingly around Aerith’s, guiding her blade to the man’s arm. “We must be careful not to hit any veins, otherwise the playtime is over,” Cassandra said lightly.

And so they cut into the flesh of their victim, his screams of anguish unheard by the castle who slept peacefully that night. The power of the box absorbed the screams, and there were very, very many. Yet his whimpering meant naught to the dutiful disciples of the dark arts. Aerith was happy to spend time with her mother, and Cassandra was happy to share her joy with another. All through the night the Midnight Monster felt her Dark Companion around her, advising her to tell Aerith where to cut next, and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. It was the perfect holiday, the best she ever had.

And to anyone looking inside, they would see a mother and a daughter, content with all the world.

~*~*~*~*~

“Yo, Sei, get up,” The door slammed hard to the mute’s room, and groggily he focused himself enough to open the door. He found Tobias and Jensen standing there, eyes looking rather irritated and uncomfortable.

“You remember that guy you thought was a spy?” Tobias said before the mute could even get a word in. Sleepily he nodded.

“Are we utilizing outside rescources again?” Jensen said, using the term to describe Cassandra Remi, as general knowledge was that she was supposedly dead. Only Jensen, Stephanie, and Sei knew the truth on the matter. Though Jensen began to wonder if Azza knew as well, for the child only had nightmares when she saw Cassandra.

“No, I was going to have Adolph and his Chaplains arrest him last night. I found plans to assassinate my daughter locked deep inside his mind. His violence towards mystics always sent mental images to my mind when I talked to him. He was a marvelous actor, but”

“He’s dead.” Tobias said flatly.

“And by dead, I mean…well…” Jensen hesitated. “Tobias can go wake Steph and Azza for me, I need you to come with me.”

It had taken a few minutes for Sei to don the appropriate clothing, but when he reached outside he found the Chaplains all forming a protective ring around the front gate. Adolph waved Jensen and his lord in, the two warrior’s passing grim looks. Sei felt a wave of dread wash over him and he sighed, deeply as he waited for the large wooden doors to open. When they were he felt the wind push against his skin, making Goosebumps rise up, but more notably a stench of something all to familiar. Death.

He looked forwards to find a pine tree covered in body parts complete with organ ornaments, intestine tinsel, and dangling unmentionables and eyeballs. The brain was the tip of the tree, a knife stuck through it. As the wind howled a small box would flap open, and screams whispered out into the air and made the group uncomfortable.

And sitting upon the center of the tree, wrapped up with a pretty bow in the Ixian Knights colors was a simple sign.

“Happy Holiday’s, Lord Orlouge, the Wetworks Team!”

[Flames of Hyperion]

Winter celebrations in Nippon differed somewhat from those held elsewhere upon Althanas. The system of time-keeping upon the far eastern isles was based upon the lunar calendar, the new year of which was heralded by the blooming of the plum and cherry blossoms. This was a time for family, for three or more generations of extended relations to gather together under one warm roof to give thanks to the old and to toast the new. The darkest, longest nights in the deepest reaches of winter, on the other hand, were traditionally a time to spend with one’s friends.

The notion was simple enough – when winter’s chilly grasp over the land was at its strongest, when the moon went dark and even the stars were extinguished by the uncaring pervasive frost, people would gather together in numbers and proclaim their defiance to the fickle gods of weather by making a big show of joyous riotous fun. The missing stars were replaced as twinkling illuminations by thousands of paper lanterns strung between rooftops, the absence of the moon was filled by the beat of festival drums and the thunder of bright fireworks, and the cold was fought through copious amounts of thick hotpot broth and the warmth of the accompanying fireside banter.

At least, for most of the population. A few grumpy souls barred themselves in their homes, refusing to partake in the frivolity; a few unlucky ones tended to their duties as watchmen or apothecaries, sacrificing their time so that others could have fun. And there were the one or two desperate individuals who found themselves ignored by the merriment as it passed them by, like the grains of sand left behind in the wake of an immensely powerful tidal wave.

The scholar that sat at his window desk, ensconced in his books, was one such person. He sat in the dark, no light upon the neat calligraphic texts under his perusal except a single flickering flame that danced to his will about his head like a frivolous firefly. He sat in the cold, for it cost a lot of money that he didn’t have to put wood on the fire, and the light blanket that he had pilfered from his bed was the best he could afford. And he sat alone, for he was of the solitary and studious sort, and those who knew him also knew not to ask for his company when there was still work to be done.

It’s amazing, isn’t it… just what a difference a few short hours can make, his lonely thoughts echoed throughout his mental labyrinth, a soliloquy of pain and regret with no means of escape. Only a half-day ago, you were so looking forward to spending time with them… now, you’re on your own. Again.

“It’s your own fault for getting your hopes up so high…” He allowed the words to slip sorrowfully from his lips, then slapped his cheeks with frozen palms in an attempt to cheer himself up. “Alright, c’mon…”

“… the work doesn’t do itself?”

Startled, the young man looked up. He found himself staring into the luminous eyes of a girl barely a month younger than he, her short black hair and entrancing smile barely a hand’s span from his face. There was a pause, a brief silence, as his surprised gaze met hers. Then he recoiled backwards, nearly falling out of his chair in his haste.

The young woman grinned widely, used by now to his reactions.

“We’re headed down to the onsen-gai,” she told him, indicating the group of friends who had formed in her wake. He scanned them quickly with a wide-eyed gaze – Yoshi, Thomas, even the reclusive Ai – before returning it reluctantly to the pile of papers in front of him. “… are you sure that…”

“Nah…” he pre-empted her, forcing his features into a grateful smile infused with warmth and regret. “I’d better get these done tonight, or there’ll be hell to pay tomorrow.”

She glared at him for a moment, prettily confused, attempting to divine the truth of his words. Then she relented and backed away, and he relaxed in turn, thankful that his bluff had been successful. He could not – would not – allow her to worry. It would not do for her night to be spoiled by him.

She waved farewell, and then left amongst the throng, happily chattering to her friends. Not one of them looked back at the solitary scholar buried amongst his books.

***

He woke up again later that night, long after the festivities had died down, still curled up in his chair as though hiding from the night. Heavy darkness cocooned him from all sides, bitter morning chill seeping through his blanket to freeze his fingers and toes. Not a sound echoed throughout the crisply frosted streets, not a soul stirring behind the tightly shuttered windows.

It was so dark, so cold… so lonely.

He couldn’t cry in front of anybody else, but alone was a different matter.

I… I can’t see the light any more…

[Wings of Endymion]

It was a weird feeling, she had to admit. A tingling in the bottom of her stomach, a flutter in her chest that throbbed in time with her heartbeat. She had to remain intently focused to maintain her concentration, but at the same time she was completely aware of every last piece of information that touched her senses. The gentle twinkle of the stars that illuminated the crisp black skies, the rhythmic song of the waves on the lakeshore not so far away, the wafting scent of the incense used by the Elven monks in their morning prayers; each and every sensation touched her bare soul with clarity and intensity unparalleled in the ‘real’ world. This was the first stage, the dream stage, yumemai.

Next came the difficult part, konpou, seizing control. Not many onmyouji ever attained the fine precision and purity of finesse required, and the scatted sigils and softly glowing pentagrammic wards that surrounded her attested to the long hours of preparation that she had put into this one moment. Preparation that thankfully did not end up in vain, for in a moment she experienced the gut-wrenching sensation of something tearing free from her corporeal form. Then she could see herself, still slumped in meditative slumber, strands of fine black hair cascading like an ebony veil over her delicate features.

A moment later and she exulted in her newfound freedom, soaring like a graceful swan to a height from which she could make out the curvature of the horizon. Poised, she held herself there, touching upon the multifaceted tendrils of mana that trickled this high above the clouds, beyond the sight of all but the keenest eyes blessed with the Sight. She let them flow between her fingers, as if attempting to divine something from amongst their depths, letting the joy and contentment that they carried suffuse her ethereal being.

Found you!

Like an arrow from a bowstring she was off diving down such that she was nearly skimming the snow-laden treetops before levelling out. Quicker than the eye could track her spirit flashed over the frozen wastelands, leaving only the bleating of startled livestock and the whisper of an outpaced zephyr in her wake. Her destination, a point unknown in the forlorn distance, nonetheless stood out like a guiding beacon in her mind.

Every now and again she flashed over a small collection of lights in the darkness, huddled together against the cold. Some blazed brightly and defiantly, in celebration of their victorious struggle and in exultation at their hard-won survival. Others simmered in quiet contentment, relieved and relaxed that they had survived. A few were quiet gloom, and she knew that these had suffered great loss at the hands of the Dread Necromancer and had yet to recover.

Beneath each light, around each hearth, she knew that a family of Elves celebrated the traditional Raiaeran midwinter festival, with solemn song and warm food and gratuitous prayer. She smiled once as she passed overhead, happy for them, but did not slow down.

Wasteland soon gave way to rolling hills and distant peaks, all smothered beneath a thick layer of shimmering white snow. Still the beacon in the distance, the destination that she seemed so fixated upon, remained far away and out of reach. The glittering flames became less and less frequent, and when they did appear, they were rigidly formed and present in great number.

These were the camps of the Alerarian soldiers, she knew, and the gaping voids in between contained the ruins of countless settlements lost to war and famine. Doubtless the Dark Elves too were celebrating midwinter, most likely in a manner not too dissimilar from their fairer kin, although she fancied that she could make out a raucous drunken cry or two even as she flit past with great haste. No matter how they tried, though, they could not make up for the emptiness and pain that emanated from the hollow darkness, and an involuntary tear flowed down her cheek as she continued onwards.

The towering heights of the Twilight Peaks, the narrow ravine that was Niadath Pass, and then with a breathless burst she erupted through unto the other side, Alerar proper. Villages and towns, threadbare treetops and vast expanses of ice-coated wasteland sped beneath her as she forged onwards, ever onwards, towards her goal. She could feel it drawing closer now, and her determination to attain it only multiplied manifold. As the clusters of lights began to grow denser, and a faint halo of crimson outlined the mountains behind her, she began to call out, reaching to it in desperate succour.

Hold on, she whispered, an echo on the wind. You’re not alone. You’re not alone!

In spite of all the joyous celebrating voices that she could have chosen to listen to, she had picked the saddest, the most sorrowful. Of all the heartbeats that she could have sought, she had chosen the loneliest, the one that struggled, even now, to hold in the tears. And though she thought it foolish for its refusal to cry in front of others, and though it hurt her greatly when she touched the surface of the bleeding soul… she could not let it be.

Long ago, it had shown her a sky free of clouds, a wind that did not herald heavy rains. And though she was still so powerless and it remained so far away, it was her turn now to return the favour.

Not long now, she promised, reassuring, to the curled-up figure huddled against the dark, the cold, the solitude. I’m almost there…

Spires of stone and battlements of steel. Faceless houses crammed together in the confines of a mighty fortress, and the narrow paved streets that saved them. A skyship silhouetted against the starlit night, basking in the growing dawn.

Ettermire, capital of Alerar.

Closer she came, closer still. The grand basilicas that seated the government and nobility. The fortified barracks that housed the bulk of the nation’s military might. And then the most imposing building of them all, home to the vast repositories of knowledge upon which the collected councillors of the country could draw. The Li…

“… Yuka!”

With a jolt she came back to earth, cursing the mind-pounding suddenness that always marked the end of soul projection. Instinctively she reached for the kodachi at her side, then almost collapsed as the strain of the past few hours took its cumulative toll. Still, only when she felt the reassuring roughness of Akiyoshi’s hand upon her back did she allow herself to fully relax, exhaling frosty tension from tautly poised muscles.

“You’re almost as pale as that paper,” he indicated gruffly, simmering anger just about masking his concern. “Don’t tell me that you’ve been at it all night…”

“… then I won’t…” was the soft, rueful reply as Yuka reached for her head, massaging her temples in a futile bid to exorcise the hot-blooded daemons that had suddenly taken root. Such was the price that she had to pay for abusing the limits of her powers, although truth be told, she was glad that it wasn’t any higher.

Sensing that her samurai friend had not simply joined her to rouse her from her slumber, however, she gently pried herself away from his support, steadying herself upright. Then she asked, “What’s up?”

“Kendal reported back,” he answered, his honest features unable to conceal a flicker of triumph. “We’ve found him at last.”

His lamellar armour, blood-red as the sun that was now dawning behind him, clinked lightly as he helped her to her feet. Her snow-white robes whispered a light thank you in the morning breeze, even as she turned to gaze towards the moon-touched western horizon.

“The capital of Alerar,” she finished for him, causing his dark brown eyes to widen in surprise. “The Library of Ettermire.”

Slowly he nodded acquiescence. A moment later he blinked in surprise as she reached down gracefully and handily tossed him his spear, saved from embarrassment only by his swift reflexes.

“Let’s go,” she said, and in a blink of an eye his face was wreathed in a wide grin.

“Let’s,” was his immediate reply.

[Zerith]

As a child, Zerith had always enjoyed the Feast of the Ancients. It was the day everyone in the village celebrated, a day that encouraged them to remember how close the community once was. Back then the village was small, and the families didn’t have much. Yet the people were close, almost like one single family. So one night some of the villagers decided it would be a good idea for everyone to come together and partake in a feast, but realized that there wasn’t a building large enough to accommodate everyone. Instead they improvised, deciding to have the festivities outside in the winter. Lacking the ability to decorate a banquet hall or something similar, some of the men went into the nearby forest and brought back the largest pine tree they could find. Once they returned they stood it up in the center of the village, and everyone brought what they could spare to decorate it. Old ribbons, a broken earring even some old material one of the older ladies kept from when she had a hobby of making art. The tree wasn’t exactly a beautiful piece of art, but it marked a collaborative effort of everyone bringing what they could and underneath it the people ate and drank in the cold, yet nobody really complained. Many even gave some of their possessions to others as gifts, tokens of how much they appreciated the other. Throughout the following years the day was eventually marked as the one where Zerith’s ancestors decided they weren’t just a community, but a single family unit.

Now it had become an annual tradition. Some of the gifts became more elaborate and the pine trees used to replicate the original always seemed to be decorated in lavish amounts of beads, glass balls and ribbons. Some were even topped off with stars, to help some remember what it must have been like for their forefathers to celebrate and be thankful for what they had out in the cold, starry night. Yet the sense of belonging and family never changed for the halberdier. Through the excitement over receiving gifts diminished now that he was an adult, he still always seemed to enjoy this particular holiday.

Well, all except this one in particular.

Sitting at one of the many tables in the grand ballroom of King Eric’s palace, the warder supported his head with his left arm as he leaned over the circular table. His blue eyes stared blankly at the inside cover of a book before him, while he absentmindedly drummed the end of a fountain pen on the delicate tablecloth. He knew what he wanted to do, to be able to write something appropriate for the recipient of this last gift he had to share. The only problem was that the words were coming out as easily as he hoped. Not to mention he didn’t just want them to sound perfect, he needed them to.

“If he weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be having this struggle,” he grumbled.

The words he said were referring to the real reason why Zerith wasn’t really enjoying the celebration. Not only did today mark the Feast of the Ancients, but it also marked the day that years ago one man made a prominent appearance in Jasmine Dracosius’ life. The Ixian Knight had heard the story a couple times, of how the arrogant Prince Raelyse danced with the Princess of Moriah, whispered sweet things in her ear and even went as far as to hand her a rose of ice so clear it could have been crystal. It was also the night that prince of pricks kissed her and quickly wrapped her around his finger. Just trying to remember the story made Zerith’s blood boil and teeth grind against each other.

Sure, Jasmine quickly forgot everything about Raelyse once her warder showed her what real love was like, but there was always that small part of Zerith that resented that man for what he did on that one day. Perhaps it was just a guy thing, but ever since he heard how the Myrusian wooed his wife’s heart back then, Zerith swore he would top it once day.

“Zerith,” a female voice finally managed to bring the halberdier out of the past and back into the present. It was Melody, Queen of Moriah and Jasmine’s sister-in-law that was speaking to him. Clad in a rich gown of a yellow and white, the monarch had always been supportive the foreigner than became a prince and general. She looked beautiful and formal, as always. Even to the point that she wore a small crown upon her head during this event. Taking a seat next to the noble, she looked out at the crowd and scenery. “Your customs seem to be a big hit here in Moriah. I didn’t think most of these people would accept them so well.”

“Huh?” Zerith asked as he finally looked up from the book he was obsessing over. When he noticed that Melody was referring to the scenery he took a moment to look at it again. While the pillars were wrapped with garland and candles served as a great way to make the ballroom feel more homey, it was the tree that dominated the scenery to the point where many of the nobles were standing just below it, admiring the work put into it and how new and different it was. The three, which Zerith decorated himself, was covered with reds and golds. Bright ribbons were tied into bows and certain places, while the class balls were decorated with rich details of both colours and came in a variety of shapes. It really was a work of art, and one that the halberdier took great pride in. “Well at least they’re not burning the tree down.”

The queen laughed, “Cute, though I suppose that wouldn’t be unlikely given how cold I know some of these nobles can be.” She turned around in a fluid motion, finally facing her companion. “So how are you? Enjoying the ball?”

“I’m fine,” the Ixian Knight grumbled as he went back to staring at the book on the table. “Just a little frustrated that I can’t think of the perfect thing to write in this book. Shame I can’t go around a make women roses of ice, instead I actually have to put work into things like this,” he spat out sarcastically.

“Are you really getting into all of that again, Zerith?” Melody answered with a look of disappointment. She had expected her brother-in-law would be struggling to let go of the past again, the look on his face as he was reminiscing earlier was more than enough proof. Though she didn’t really need proof anyways, somehow Melody was a woman with an incredible sense of intuition to the point where she was easily able to tell when something was wrong with someone. “Jasmine let it go years ago, I thought she said you did as well shortly after you got married.”

“I did! But excuse me if what happened back then still leaves a bitter taste!” the warder snapped back instinctively. “I’m better than him, Melody! It frustrates me I can’t prove it!”

After a few seconds of silence a gentle touch, so soft that Zerith barely felt it as the Queen place a hand on his shoulder, was given to help him calm down and feel supported. A warm smile covered Melody’s face before she finally said something quietly. “You are better than him, and you’ve already proven it.” Turning back around toward the guests, Eric’s wife stretched her arm outwards and pointed. “Look.”

Across the large room stood Jasmine herself, dressed in a sleeved gown of dark blue with silver trim and wearing hair mostly loose, though small sections were clipped back so they wouldn’t fall in front of her face. As she spoke to some other nobles the halberdier didn’t recognize, she carried little Siela in her arms. Their daughter was adorable, dressed in a red knee-length dress, white stockings and small, shiny black shoes. The red bow in her hair was used to just complete the outfit, though the baby would periodically try to pull it off her head only to be thwarted by her mother readjusting it. Once Jasmine looked away, Siela would be back at it again not too long afterwards. It was a constant battle between the two, and one that Zerith found quite amusing to watch.

Apparently the princess caught sight of her husband and the Queen looking at her from the corner of her eye and quickly excused herself from the current conversation she was involved in. Turning to face them, she smiled brightly and waved. She even brought the infant up to her face and pointed, trying to help the tiny princess recognize the family members Mommy saw. It wasn’t hard to tell when the baby finally saw what Jasmine was pointing at, as her face lit up with a rich smile immediately. The sight made Zerith’s heart melt, and that familiar sense of pride as a father come thundering back into his sense of self.

“Raelyse wasn’t there for Jasmine, or for the rest of us, like you have.” Melody started explaining. “Every time we had a problem, you always seemed to show up and help us get through it. Jasmine saw this, she even continues to see it, and she loves you all the more for it. It’s one of the many reasons she chose you. She married you and that’s your daughter she’s holding, nobody else’s. There’s your proof, Zerith. Now why don’t you start enjoying yourself tonight?”

Melody made a really good point, and Zerith wouldn’t get the chance to thank her before she got up from her seat and joined her husband and the conversation he was currently involved in. Sapphire eyes moved to look at the book that sat on the table once again, and as they did the warder thought about what the monarch said and how both his wife and daughter looked at him from across the room. It didn’t take long, perhaps only a minute or two before the prince rose to his feet, slammed the book shut and tucked it into his suit jacket before he left the pit he had been sulking in and took the first of many steps he would take that night as he enjoyed the evening.

The rest of the night flew by, and through the event the halberdier did things he had always wanted to do. He ‘danced’ with his daughter, and enjoyed it so much that he didn’t care what some of the other nobles thought. He even endured talking to some of the members of nobility he disliked, choosing to not voice things that would upset the other and taking comments that would generally bother him in stride. When asked by others, he explained the traditions he was brought up with enthusiasm and retold fond memories he had from when he was a boy. He even got along with his brother-in-law, King Eric, so well that neither Jasmine nor Melody would probably be able to think of a time prior to that could even come close to this one. Though both were probably hoping to see the two men getting along in such a way become a regular occurrence. For what it was worth, Zerith would at least try to do his share from that point on.

Eventually, Siela and Dylan were taken off the parents hands so the children could get to bed and the parents could have some time to enjoy themselves. So with his baby out of his wife’s hands, the Ixian Knight decided it was about time to make his move and finally give her the gift he had been preparing for this day. He smiled as he quietly lead her into the gardens, knowing full well how they played into that story between Raelyse and Jasmine. Yet that story was in the past, an old library book that nobody ever signed out and was now collecting dust. Instead Zerith would write a new one, one that his mage would tell over and over again to people like Melody and her friends. Every time she would repeat the events, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from smiling as she would recall how her husband went above and beyond all expectations.

Whereas Raelyse make a rose out of ice, Zerith changed the very weather. Although he wasn’t exactly him performing the feat, it did take him quite the amount of time pulling strings and organizing to have everything in place. While Moriah had a tropical climate, some of the kingdom’s mages excelled with weather. Zerith knew this, and requested the help of some of the best he could find. Now that he saw the final result, he was sure all of the work paid off. He did what he planned on doing, creating not only a winter wonderland for just him and his wife, but also a window that allowed him to finally show Jasmine what the Feast of the Ancient was like back where he grew up.

The two danced and kissed, savouring the moment and all of things that made it extraordinary. The bright moon, the gentle starlight and the rare sight of snow in Moriah made everything feel perfect and like something the princess would have read in one of her fantasy novels. The halberdier guided her by the hand, leading Jasmine to a small gazebo near the center of the garden. From there they watched the white snowflakes fall, the serene surroundings a very welcome change from the busy life they shared at Ixian Castle. Placing his arms on her hips, Zerith smiled warmly. “I have a gift for you,” he said as he reached into his suit jacket to for what he had tucked away in there earlier. “Afterall, it’s tradition to give gifts to loved ones where I’m from.”

Out from his jacket he withdrew the book he had been trying to write in earlier, but eventually decided against the idea. I appeared to be a simple novel; bound in black leather and the fine pages inside were trimmed with gold around the edges. As he placed in into her hands Jasmine stared at it with wonder before she quickly flipped through the pages, noting the eloquent style of lettering. “What is it?” she asked excitedly. “It’s untitled”

“It’s a purely original work, one that took quite the amount of time to get published,” Zerith explained, though a little nervous to explain what the story really one. “I had meant to give it to you earlier, but it’s just taken a lot longer than I thought it would. It’s the retelling of everything starting from when we first met and ending with Siela’s birth. Only it’s from my perspective.”

The first response the prince received from his wife was a kiss, but eventually she spoke. “Oh, Zerith. You didn’t have to go into all that effort to give me a gift,” Jasmine replied, though she sounded like she was absolutely stunned. Running her hand down the cover of the book, the princess spun around so that she had her back to him. “I’m sorry, love, but I don’t really have a gift for you.” She paused, thinking for a moment not only about her predicament, but also about what she had planned to do prior to the ball. “Well, I guess some could say that I do have a gift. It’s just one that I can’t really hand to you.”

Although he was a little confused at what Jasmine was saying, the halberdier was just about to tell her that she didn’t really to give him anything in return for the sake of the holiday. He was just about to go into the while speech his father gave him about how the Feast of the Ancients was really just about coming together as a family and being thankful for each others. Though before he could speak up, Jasmine had already spun back around to face him. Then, still holding tightly onto the gift her husband just handed to her, she said something that would remind Zerith just how important family really was to him and how exciting it could be.

“I’m pregnant.”

[Viola Conda]

Viola yawned softly as she stretched her arms up above her head, cracking her neck of the built up stress from pouring over the latest batch of her students homework. Half way through the course and she was already pleased that a majority of her students were looking like they would pass her test without any difficulty. Yet like all classroom environments, there were always the few apples in her crop of oranges.

“Hello, M’am,” A soft voice called from the edge of the room. Viola rose her gaze to see her personal retainer and closest friend, Natalie Boros, smiling to her. Viola waved her in and the lithe woman darted between the desks carrying with her a tray of dinner food. It had been a custom as of late for the Chief Counselor of Emprea to forget to eat, and always Natalie arrived with food. Viola shuffled the papers to the side, making room as the tray slid easily on the lacquered finished oak, and with a greedy grin Viola lifted her fork and began to eat at the peas.

“How goes the students from hell?” Natalie asked, taking a juicy bite out of an apple. A bit of dribble escaped her lips and she darted her tongue to catch it as Viola swallowed her vegetables and spoke kindly.

“I have no students from Hell, Captain Boros, just those that are doing well and those that need a bit more of a push,” Viola let her eyes flutter as she tasted the butter from the mashed potatoes on her pallet. Natalie shrugged indifferently, tossed her black hair aside as if it was an afterthought, and put on a sly grin like she was a hound onto a fox’s trail.

“Then what about your favorite student, Captain Donovan?” She spoke in a haughty tone, as if to tease her superior officer. Viola gave her a mere warning glance, but sighed as she thought about the man in question. Paul Donovan was one of the Six Heroes of Emprea. The youngest by a year, and the most fiery tempered of the group Paul was a symbol to the people of Emprea as the defiant one. He was also incredibly tactless and ended most of his strategies with ‘punch them in the face.’ Viola had the ‘honor’ of being assigned to train the young Captain and tame his berserker like mentality to become a disciplined facet to the Emprean War Effort.

“If you think because he’s a stubborn brute that he’ll fail my class, then try again,” Viola said scooping more potato mush onto her fork. “Thanks to Rachel he‘s learned how to conduct himself like an officer. Thanks to Jonothan he‘s learned how to solve more problems tactically rather than rushing everything forwards. And thanks to David he‘s learned to keep his temper in check. He’s passing the course just fine. His written exams are something to be desired, yes, but his practicals are always spot on. Give the man a little credit, Captain Boros.”

“Oh I never doubted his abilities, M’am,” Natalie said, her grin growing wider. “I just asked how your favorite student is doing.” Viola gave her friend an odd look of confusion before she realized what her companion was getting at.

“For the love of god…“ Viola rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Please Natalie, drop it already!”

“Oh I think it’s cute!” Natalie protested. “The Wolf Lord of Emprea and the Chief Counselor. Brute force and unwavering discipline! You both complete each other like a circle!” Viola debated if she should stab her fork into Natalie. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. He’s got more than respect for you, Viola, he’s got the hots for you!”

“Commander Conda, to you, Captain Boros,” Viola growled.

“And you got the hots for him, commander,” Natalie continued slyly, leaning in close and poking Viola’s shoulder repeatedly as she lifted her eyebrows. “When you think nobodies looking, that nobody is around, you gaze to him with such longing it should be in a romance novel. You fondled one of his homework assignments for an hour!” Viola’s face turned red as she slammed food into her mouth.

“I haven’t the foggiest clue,” she gulped her food. “What you’re talking about, Captain. He is no more to me than any other facet of this army.”

“Uh, huh,” Natalie looked unconvinced. “He’s way more to you, you just won’t let yourself have fun! Come on, pull the knot out of your hair and let it down! Let him take you to the Ball,” Natalie lifted a hand up quickly. “I already know you don’t have a date, so don’t try and lie!” Viola waited to see if her friend would continue before smiling.

“To be perfectly honest, Captain Boros,” Viola’s face flushed red again. “I have considered asking Paul Donovan to the Anniversary Ball.” Before Viola was able to continue Natalie swung her legs over the desk and stood up.

“Good, than it won’t be to hard a stepping stone to say yes when he walks in to ask you! Courtesy me! Happy anniversary!” Viola’s face dropped open as she swiped for Natalie, who stepped back and turned, laughing before she stifled it into a giggle, coughing as she brought herself to regal height. She gave a quick salute forwards and Viola couldn’t see who was in front of her due to Natalie’s body being in the way.

“Captains!” She said happily. “I wonder why you are here?” She didn’t really seemed inquisitive, in fact Viola was certain that Natalie knew why. Still, who these people were was a mystery until someone spoke or her friend moved.

“Captain Boros, it would be my pleasure, nay, my honor, if you would give me the wonderful pleasantry of your company for an ice cream cone. I wish to discuss details for the Anniversary Ball with you.” Viola knew that flowery speech from anywhere and she smiled as she thought of David King, the most Charming Hero of Emprea and most admired by the woman.

“It would be my, uh…uh…”

“Try great joy,” Viola said dryly to Natalie.

“My great joy to get dessert with you!” Natalie lifted one finger into the air to accentuate her point as she stepped forwards. Natalie wrapped one arm around David’s waist, the Captain of the Guard stopping to greet Viola properly with a short military bow. Viola waved them off and the two walked out of the room, but something David mumbled caught the Chief Counselor off guard.

“Good luck,”

Viola looked to see a sheepish looking Paul Donovan looking back at her. His hazel eyes showed the softer side of his more hulkish nature. She had heard rumors, some stories, about Paul’s legendary rage. She heard horrible things about his temper being let loose more than once, and several times she had to sign papers about his house arrest for hitting a superior officer. Yet every time she saw him he looked like an innocent, good intentioned man. She just couldn’t see the hostile, rage filled man everyone else saw. All she saw was the goofy captain who had lost his ability to speak when around her, stood a bit taller, worked with a bit better posture, and opened doors for her and offered to take her coat or grab her things. She saw the man she had feelings for, and no stories were ever able to match up to that man she envisioned. God damn it all, Natalie is right! I do…like him. But just like! Viola thought to herself.

“Uh, Commander Conda, may I…uh…erm…nice weather,” The line officer said weakly. Paul stepped forwards, his hands fumbling behind his back before he produced a small wrapped cloth. When he reached her desk he placed it down and then opened the wrappings. “I thought you would like some dessert. It’s a cake from the Spero’s. It’s really good!”

“I can tell,” Viola said giggling as she pointed her fork to a large bite mark. “You already ate some.” She looked to him with a small smile, letting it creep across her face as she turned away from him, picking up the papers and placing them inside the desk, pulling out her spare set of kitchen utensils for when she packed her lunch. She took the fork and offered it to Paul, who thanked her as he sat down.

The two nibbled at the cake in silence. Viola took one bite, not expecting much until her eyes popped and her mouth watered. The cake was more than delicious, it was heavenly. They ate it until Captain Donovan put his fork down and pushed the little slice towards his commanding officer.

“I hear that you haven’t found a date yet to the ball,” Paul started the conversation with an earnest smile. Viola looked to him with a bemused smile, nodding. “Must be hard to find someone, huh?”

“It is a problem, yes,” Viola admitted. “Working as much as I do I have very few personal hours. I am afraid I haven’t utilized any of it to look for a date.” Viola stirred her fork in the crumbs as her cheeks flushed red once more. “What about….about you?” She asked, her tone akin to a whisper on the wind. Paul remained quiet for a moment, then answered just as soft.

“Nobody,” Paul looked to her and smiled. “Most girls don’t want a line soldier, and the others are already taken.”

“Ah the life of solitude,” Viola said dryly. Paul nodded dumbly, smiling before he began to fidget with his fingers. When he cracked each knuckle he looked right at his commanding officer. “What?” Viola asked, chuckling as he did so.

“About that,” Paul said rubbing his thumb and middle finger together. “I was, well, wondering if maybe you’d like to, well, erm…” Paul coughed and pointed to a glass of water on the table. Viola poured him a bit more water and passed him the cup, which he greedily drank the whole thing in one draught. The intake he did on the liquid was akin to inhaling the whole thing down like a hungry wolf. He was aptly named the Wolf Lord for his eating habits, at least the counselor mused with a whimsical smile.

“Better?” Viola asked. Paul nodded before he stood up, grabbing the cloth and wrapping it into itself, folding the edges in and tying it off into a ball. He then made a motion to leave her, waving goodbye with a soft grunt of thanks for her time and was two steps down the row of chairs before Viola sighed and spoke up. “Captain, you were saying something?” Paul froze, as if he had put his hand in the cookie jar and was caught. Slowly he turned, his eyes shifting as if thinking of something to say before he rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“I just, well, wanted to know if…” Paul swallowed the air in his mouth, squared his shoulders, stood tall and looked right at her. Aside from the gentleness in his eyes his posture looked like he was about to arrest her or shake her down for her lunch money. Either way Viola tried very hard not to laugh in his face. “Chief Counselor Viola Conda, it has come to my attention that both of us don’t have dates to the Anniversary of the Emprea’s founding. It is always customary that everyone who is to attend have a date. This is a tradition set down from the first Barbarian king of Emprea, and upheld by every King and Queen of Emprea since. I will be damned, Chief Counselor, not to uphold that tradition.”

“Very bold of you, Captain,” Viola said in her military tone. “And what strategy have you devised for solving your problem?” She smiled despite her tone, enjoying the moment of silliness with her Captain. Paul let out a sly grin and she saw felt the comfort in his relaxed posture as he eased back into his usual self.

“ Look Commander, this is really important to me. Every winter I have dreamed of going to such an elaborate event, and every winter I spent it playing Red Raze in the barracks with chumps, dancing like a jackass with the other linewomen. But once, just once I want to go with someone who’s…well, you.” Paul gave her a warming look and Viola felt her heart softly start to beat. “We both don’t have dates, we’re both comfortable around each other, and I think we’d have a great time. So…say yes and make me happy?” Viola lifted herself up and crossed the table to stand before him, leaning back into the desk and crossing her hands over her chest.

“Captain,” She said in a soft tone. “I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought of this, of…us,” She tapped his arm gently and let her hand rest on his wrist. Her fingers, without her knowing it, began to softly intertwine with his. The next words she tried to say were swallowed deep inside her when she looked into his eyes, feeling her heart race faster and faster. She gripped his hand, tightly, then pulled it away softly looking to his knees as if that would make the words she were about to say easier.

“I can’t,” She said at last, nearly choking on the words. “It’s unacceptable for a Captain of your level to date a superior officer. There are rules and regulations that must be followed.” Paul sighed heavily, and his intense look bore a whole in the side of her head. She could feel his disappointment between them and she contemplated hugging him. She knew she could use one.

“What about Jonothan Andrews and Rachel Leona! That’s got to be some sort of rules violation, but does anyone care? I’d pray to god not or they’d have my fists to answer to!” Viola lifted both her hands up and rested them on Paul’s, lowering them down to calm his growing anger.

“No, they aren’t in any form of trouble, but that isn’t the issue, Captain Donovan,” Viola said. She thought about what she just said and felt for the first time ever her heart disagreeing with her mind. Even her gut stubbornly refused her mental impulse to choose duty and pride over self interest. She was dumbfounded to feel so torn up over something so trivial and she just held Paul while they looked to each other. Follow her heart and instincts, or follow her Duty to her country?

“What is the issue, then, If I may ask?” Paul asked leaning closer to her. She felt her heart spark again to be so close to him and she had trouble thinking. At last she stood tall and looked him in the eye. She took in a deep breath and spoke in a forced calm.

“Captain Donovan, one of the things a Chief Counselor must be is a shining example to the rest of the army. I cannot bend the rules for myself and enforce them on others. I cannot break the conduct code of an officer and then expect people to take me seriously when I bellow out orders. What if you were with your newly formed wolves, and one of them is punished for punching a superior officer, but you are not?”

Paul actually let out a soft snort of laughter as he listened to her analogy. Yet he didn’t answer right away, thinking about it before speaking. “I’d be pretty upset, actually. I’d want to be treated no differently than my wolves when it comes to matters of discipline. I’d want them to respect me and see me as their leader, and the only way I can do that is show them what a good leader is in all things…” Paul looked down to his feet. “I understand, Commander Conda,” Paul lifted his head up and grinned to her. “I don’t like it, not one bit, but I understand it.” Viola smiled to him, and gripped his arm tightly. She really wanted that hug.

“Besides,” Viola said teasingly. “I am your instructor for your officer’s academy. Think of how much work and effort would be wasted in telling people it’s just for the ball?” Paul nodded, though half heartedly before he looked to the clock on the wall and popped his eyes open wide.

“I must excuse myself, M’am, I have to get to my wolves! If I’m late they get pissy at me and it’s a big mess of an ordeal to get them organized again. The joy of leading a berserker unit, I guess. Goodbye,” Paul waved to her with a smile as he turned to run off. Viola watched him go, waving as she suppressed a giggle, before turning back to her desk and sitting down. She looked at the papers she had to grade, but instead she just slammed the door shut sighing.

“Stupid Natalie Boros and her stupid being right…” Viola whispered hugging herself.

[Duffy]

It was Lucian's Call, and for the Tantalum, that meant one thing...

Celebration!

The square that was at the heart of Bakery, Lombard, Loveless and Holmsgrove Streets was a simple yet understated place on the edges of the docklands. A fountain was all that occupied it most of the time, with the exception of once weekly markets, where stalls of all varieties would congregate here from the poorer trade districts to share their wares, their gossip, and often their wives. Leaving the Square via Loveless Avenue, the way was book ended on the left by the Harbour Land Inn, and on the right, the much, much taller building, consisting mainly of rooms, apartments and various hovels of a poor quality, but much used and loved rooms nether the less. From here, Duffy could see into the top floor attic window of the Inn, and the faint trace of shadows running back and forth inside.

Every year they adapted I Want To Be Your Canary to suit the modern day themes and fit in recent events or changes to monarchy and the like. This year, a comet was being portended by the madmen on the streets. There was more than likely absolutely no truth in it whatsoever, but a good troupe, especially the Tantalum, knew how to milk controversy. The front of the apartment building Duffy was glancing down from held a great clockwork clock front, a hundred concentric gears turned and ticked and ticked and chimed away the days and night in plain view of all, he could feel the movements of it’s great pendulum reverberating through the roof beneath him…he used it to time himself. All he needed now was the sign, and then the performance would begin.

“Oh where are though, Cornelia, my Canary Grande - my sweet riposte!” he recited a random line plucked from his skull to break the monotony, he was most impatient, bubbling and desperate to be doing anything other than standing. A gentle breeze whipped up dust, and birds scattered from the sporadic trees on the edges of the square in a silent flock, their beating wings drowned out by the torrent of footfalls, conversations and haggling from below.

A little face appears in the fourth floor window, waving a small blue flag with a faint white symbol. Duffy beamed a broad smile of over-enthusiastic connotations and stoop upright, tensing his legs, stretching out his arms and bouncing once or twice for good measure. “Well!” Talking to himself might not be the surest sign of sanity, but he did so to re-assure his movements, and he runs towards the ledge with all his gusto. As he brought his right foot up onto the ledge he plucked a memory that caused him to push with the right force and pose to pounce upwards and outwards. He landed with both feet on the end of the flag pole and, somewhat comically found himself flung up even higher and forwards and ultimately down…

The plan was, to use the Tinder Gear prop to cause a trail of lingering flame in the air that went downwards, a bit like a comet’s tail. As soon as he brought his arms up and began a semi-bothered spin he felt…awkward. He was going down far too fast, weighed with the heavy flint gloves and fuel pipes. Still, he ejected the liquid in a light spray as he went and just as he crash landed onto the balcony of the fourth floor of the Harbour Inn, he let off an almighty clap - a single spark caught the vapour trail and flame licked up into the sky. Had Duffy been upright at that point, and not in the middle of a very awkward and flailing tumble into the room, across the floor and headlong into a pile of rather fetching pink dresses, he would’ve certainly heard people in the street scream with shock.

Getting straight to work the other performers of the troupe flung bags of flour off the balcony and out of the windows, some threw, very carefully trying to not hit anyone as they did so bits of wood and cloth out as well, to give the impression that something had fallen and crashed into the inn itself! There was a lot of coughing and mock screaming and crashing from inside as the younger performers slammed chairs down onto the floorboards and the youngest, Zack and Joe jumped up and down and ran to and fro to create a fake commotion.

Duffy came to his senses a minute or so later, removing a scarf and an umbrella from his belts and dusting himself off with a blush. “That dint go so well,” he chuckled, but could see everyone was too busy, except for Ruby, who was trying very very hard not to laugh - very unlady like! The silence outside drew them both very cautiously to window to peer out at what was going on. People from all over the square had dropped whatever it was they were doing, fish, apple, book, child (and apparently literally, from the faint crying at the back of the crowd) and slowly approached the dusty inn. The paranoia and curiosity was almost tangible in the air, the young scamp didn’t even need to look at Ruby, or anyone else that matter to see they all thought the same. This was it!

Twirling around on one foot he pointed at one group to his left and one to his right and waved them to the window. With some sort of wooden contraption they let fly two very long and wide blue tapestries out of the windows, each equidistant of the large entrance doors of the inn three floors down. Two on the roof tossed bucket after bucket of paper and cloth clippings, which came down like a rainbow’s glow, and the doors of the inn burst open and out came Pete and his young friends, skipping, jumping, whistling and speeding. They pull the tables off the inn together by the steps, and a great cloth hanging drops down over the front of the inn, hung from the loading cranes and rafters. In a split second, the inn was now a castle front, adorned with the banner of the Tantalum, fronted by a ramshackle makeshift stage and adorned with suddenly appearing fake bushes, trees and paper props.

The crowd stood, stunned to silence.

Duffy turned to Ruby and smiled with his cheeky little smile, “So, my Lady Cornelia, shall we?” He holds out his hand, tuts as she winks at Jack over her shoulder, and almost pulls him out of the window into a combined slide down a rope ladder.

Nobody seemed to recognise them as they landed with their backs to the crowd, but as she put on a crown of a dubious nature, and he drew a dagger and helf it aloft, they began whispering. Then two trumpets appeared in the windows of the ‘castle,’ and began to play the Scara Brae waltz. Duffy turns and drops on one knee, and mutters the immortal line to begin the tale of Marcus and Cornelia once more….

“I want to be your canary!”

The wave of cheers and applause drowned out the docklands, and news spread fast that the Tantalum where once more afoot!

[Hysteria]

“Deck the halls with blood and bones! Fa la la la lar la la la lar! Take your sword and kill some one! Fa la la la, la la la lar!”

The masked man kicked his boot into his victim's chest and tore his sword free. His hidden face turned up to the scared looking warrior's around him a feeling of mirth filled his heart. The holiday brawl in the Citadel was a better idea than the warrior had thought and he was finally getting into the holiday spirit. A flash of his blade and a spray of blood marked another man's exit from the fight as cackling laughter escaped the man's mouth.

* * * *

“Got plans for the 'oliday mister?”

The tavern keeper's round, cherry-red face was painted with a wide smile as he asked a guest before he could leave. The man looked at the keeper, uncomfortable would have been an understatement.

“Just family stuff I guess.”

“Oh! That's the best, sitting around a fire, drinking eggnog and singing carols. That’s what the holiday is all about!”

The young man nodded and forced a smile on his face as he walked from the tavern. He suspected the keeper had been hitting the eggnog already. The man was Talen, and his age was one of the most confusing things to exist on Althanas. He was thirteen by normal standards, and generally looked so. He had however used a peculiar ability to grow, one he used primarily to hide his identity and assume his alter ego, the White Demon. This persona was ruthless and harsh and it was he that was brought out whenever he needed to do dirty work.

This ability was a secrete to all but three people, an none of them would ever betray his trust. The White Demon was making an appearance today for a number of reasons, the main one was so Talen could work off some steam. As Talen walked through the crisp streets of Radasanth he watched the shopping families with disdain. The parents walked hand in hand with children, all carrying presents and food, ready for the big night. Singing stretched through the city, permeating every space possible.

Talen pulled his cloak closer around his body, trying to ward off both cold and cheer as he approached the citadel. The mighty stone building rose up over all others and the boy grimaced in pain as he saw that the monks had decided to be as festive as everyone else. The building was covered in swaths of green and red, an eyesore for the youth if there ever was one. Talen walked up the stone steps and entered the familiar building.

“Happy Holidays!”

The screamed emanated from a female monk, with much more emotion than a monk should show. Her cherub face was red with excess mirth and.

“Yeah.”

“You here for the Holiday Royal Rumble? Twice the mayhem and three times the cheer!”

“uh... Yeah.”

“Its three doors down on the right! I designed the arena myself!”

“Oh.. great.”

Talen walked quickly away from the insane monk and followed the stone corridor to the room. He placed his hand on the door and noticed that it was cold to the touch as he pushed it open. As he saw the arena a sigh of disappointment escaped his lips.

The arena was clearly holiday themed, with a giant pine tree at least thirty metres wide and twice as high. The tree was covered with shiny directions and snow. The full arena was ringed with thick and impassable pine trees making it a full sixty feet wide. The massive tree had strong thick branches that created a perfect cone shape. On the top was a shiny gold star.

Just in front of Talen was a crowd of men dotted with women. The group were of at least sixty and were gathered around a monk standing on a box.

“GREETINGS!” roared the little man in a green and red cloak, “These holidays the Citadel is doing what it does best! Bringing you a holiday rruuUMMBBBLLLLE! The rules are simple. Number one, get the star on the top and pull it off. Number two, there is no number two! Anything else goes!”

The group cheered, but Talen pulled out a cigarette from his pocket it and lit it with an ember from the Bright Spark attached to his wrist. He took a drag and blew the smoke into the icy air as he waited for the speech to end.

“Well then! Ladies and Gentlemen, take you're places. Remember, last person standing takes home the golden star!”

The crowd dispersed quickly, with everyone spreading out around the giant tree. Talen watched with mild interest as the drugs from his cigarette worked their magic and caused his body go into overdrive. He dropped the butt onto the snow and stepped on it. He reached behind him and pulled his white mask from his belt and placed it on his head and felt the mask extend its influence across is body.

A few people had drawn weapons, and Talen did the same, pulling out his twin swords, the Ophiuchus blades. He moved his swords around easily, getting a feel for them. The crowd was eager, but as the warrior looked around. Most seemed to be either new to the Citadel or simply forgetting that the winner would most likely be the one with enough limbs left to climb the tree.

“On your marks! Get Set! GO!”

The monk's words rippled through the crowd spreading hysteria. Men and women focused their attention on the tree and charged forwards. Elbows, fists and legs were thrown in a cascade of violence. A few people broke ahead of the pack and reached the base of the tree and started climbing. Several arrows from the back line pelted the leaders and they fell back to ground to be crushed by the next wave.

One person didn't move in the swell. Talen stood still with his swords drawn watching the crowd. The young warrior had watched the intial movements of the crowd and picked his moment to act. The youth dove forwards, his feet carrying him swiftly across the ground, not towards the tree, but around the outside of crowd. His blades glinted in the light as he cut into the slowest competitors. Like a blur of fury he cut and tore into the men and women, regardless of their likelyhood of reaching the star.

The cries of pain and surprise caused people to spread out away from the masked swordsman, but Talen pushed on, cutting a diagonal swath inwards. People turned to fight and offered some resistance, but the super sped up youth cut them down as easily. Talen made it to the base of the tree and cut down those attempting to climb up the trunk. The youth turned and faced the crowd. His black cloak was covered in blood. It dripped of his sword, staining the snow red where he stood.

The youth lifted one of his swords into the air and darkness gathered into a ball and opened up, slowly blooming into a flower. Talen's eyes never stopped scanning the group in front of him. The scared amateurs had frozen in their tracks, waiting for someone else to make the first move. Several men charged forwards at once, brandishing swords. Talen calmly lifted his fist towards the men and focused his energy. Darkness surged to his hand, darkening the space around it and exploded forth in a thick black sticky liquid.

Talen moved his hand and sprayed the men as they approached, and then lifted is hand up into the air and sprayed into the branches of the tree. With a flick of his wrist the bright spark emitted a single ember and moved the stream of liquid into it. The liquid caught ablaze quickly, spreading to the branches and the men. The warrior's screamed in pain as the flames spread across their bodies.

The youth solidified more energy, spraying more people with the sticky liquid as fire started to spread to the branches of the tree. A smile spread across Talen's masked face as people screamed and ran before him. Despite himself the youth felt a song rising from his mouth.

“Deck the halls with blood and bones! Fa la la la lar la la la lar! Take your sword and kill some one! Fa la la la, la la la lar!”

Talen's swords screamed and blood answered as he tore around the tree as fast as his feet could carry him. The flames moved through the tree moving higher and higher as the youth twisted on the spot and surveyed those still in the contest. Of the original sixty there were about fifteen left. Despite his best efforts, the youth had not even taken out half of the competitors, but he was determined to do his best to take out the rest.

The youth bent low and charged across the bloody snow towards two men working as a pair. They were firing arrows quickly, showering the remaining competitors in death. Talen reached them quickly lifted up and bring his sword in a upwards slash and caught one of them across the back. Talen's other sword came down and cut into the man's shoulder with a sickening crunch. Talen opened his mouth and shadows spiralled inwards and sprayed out. The liquid caught the second man before he could act and Talen ripped his sword free and plunged it into the man's chest.

“Get the masked guy!”

During the fight another six people fell, leaving only seven, who were rushing towards Talen. The youth looked past the men to the flower he had created. The black flora burst, sending five petals spinning through the air and into the back of the charging men. Three fell and two staggered but continued towards the youth.

Talen stepped sideways and stabbed forwards into a man's neck. He garggled and choaked as blood gushed down his chest. The youth ducked into a wild swing of another man twisted on the spot to bring his swords in a wide arc around him to catch one of the men in the legs. The boy continued his wild movements, stepping and swinging, always keeping low as he moved around the men. Talen broke off and came up a few steps away from the last two men.

“Two left huh?”

The men looked at each other and then the carnage around them. They dropped their swords and gave scared smiles.

“Don't worry.”

The boy stepped forwards and stabbed a sword into each of the men's chests.

“It isn't permanent.”

Talen pulled his swords out of the men with a sickening slurp and walked towards the flaming tree. He looked up and waited for the fire to do its work. A minute past and the golden star fell from its perch. Talen walked over and picked it up and headed to the monk. The little green robed man had a slightly sick look on his face as Talen handed him the star.

“Happy Holidays.” Said Talen.

[Silence Sei]

“So what are we doing here?” Ella Orlouge asked her family. Sei, Kyla, and every Orlouge had managed to take a day off from Ixian Castle to return home to Chateau Orlouge. With them was none other than Sei’s best friend, Kylin Rouge. All around the young girl, her adoptive family was moving back and forth, making sure every window was spotless, every crystal glass clearly polished. Anything that was transparent was perfectly clean, with Ella and her older sister Emma watching in awe at the Mystic ritual.

“It’s called the Night of Glass,” explained Rehtul Orlouge, Sei’s nephew, who was holding a champagne glass and checking it for specks. “Every year for one day, the Mystic Race returns home in order to pay homage to the one who granted us such a wide array of abilities. It’s kind of a tradition to just come to Grandmother and Grandfather’s house in order to celebrate it. It makes sense, seeing as it is the largest house of the Orlouge family.”

Emma turned to look at her cousin, blinking at the explanation. “So, what exactly is this Night of Glass all about? I mean, we’re part of the family now, shouldn’t we get to know?”

“Of course you should,” chimed in Aislinn Orlouge, Rehtul’s sister. She was moving some of her red hair out of her face as she began to set the table. Grandmother Orlouge had asked for help, and in an attempt to get Aislinn back into the loop with her family, asked if she would do the honors. “Once, there was a great warrior by the name of Sabin Edgarson. He lived alone, and was a powerful swordsman and magician. Some likened him to a God. However, he knew that he was as mortal as any of us, so decided that, rather than have some of the unique abilities he learned in his travels fade away, he’d share them with two people, and only two people.”

Aislinn went about setting crystal plates on the white tablecloth. Luckily, the Orlouge family table was large enough to accommodate everybody, a good thing considering that most of the Orlouge brothers had at least three or more kids. Following Aislinn was Kylin Rouge, a man who loved to help people in any way he could, setting down sparkling clear drinking glasses behind her.

“He went all over Althanas searching for two worthy people. Naturally, his first thought went to world leaders. So he went to Corone’s King, Salvar’s monarch, and even the royal family of Fallien. He offered them one of the two most powerful magics he knew. They could choose either light or shadow magic.” Kylin looked over to Steppenwolf Orlouge, who was telling a joke to make the other Mystic children laugh. As all eyes focused on him, the giant took it upon himself to continue the story.

“However, none of the leaders wanted just one magic, they demanded both. Everyone knew Sabin Edgarson, knew how strong he was. They wanted all of his power for his or herself. Sabin was very displeased and began a trip back to him home in failure.” Steppenwolf’s attention was drawn back to a child pulling on his shirt, and he went back to being the entertainment.

“On his way home, on two separate occasions, he encountered a child. The first was a boy, who offered him shelter for the night on the way from Salvar to Fallien. The second was a girl, who broke half of her bread loaf and shared with Sabin when he was hungry during his stay in Corone. Remembering these kids, he located them once more, and decided to offer them the same deal. The boy chose Shadow Magic while the girl chose Light. No questions asked.” Kyla bit her lower lip as she tried to think of the rest. She had been separated from her family a good portion of her life, so she could not quite remember the full tale.

A hand was placed on the girl’s shoulder, belonging to Sei’s ‘first child’, Anita. She took off where her sister left off. “There still remained a problem. These children of innocence could grow up to taint the world with such greedy evils that he had seen from the world leaders in Sabin’s journey. What could he do to stop such a thing from corrupting one kid, and having them attack the other?”

A rough cough brought the attention of everybody to Ciato Orlouge. The man had a ceremonial crystal long sword in his hands, holding it as if he planned to use the thing for battle. Once he had realized that Emma and Ella’s eyes were upon him, he decided the story would sound better from his lips. “As such, Sabin purified all of the evils from the blood of the youths, causing the liquid to turn blue once exposed to oxygen. It’s a symbol of the Mystic’s pureness. It is also why if our blue blood mixes with a humans red, the blue takes over, in essence purging the human of its evils.”

The fact that Ciato was participating in the event caused the largest girth brother, Razak, to stop eating chips on the couch, and continue the tale. “He placed the evils in a large crystal, known as the Miasma crystal. While it was a normal transparent color at first, tainting it with evils like greed and sin caused the crystal to turn purple, and so when we touch miasma fragments, we get hurt. Regardless of light or shadow user. Anyways, he continued to train the children, asking them to build two monuments to the magics he had taught them. Those monuments are the Light and Shadow trials of the Mystic race now…”

Succed Orlouge was next to take charge, stepping in front of the girls and waving his hands. As he began to speak, it seemed as though the actions were taking place in their very minds. “He blessed the children with fertility and youth. This is why Mystics have a lot of children, and why at a random point in our lives, we stop aging. Anyways, the kids grew up, had families, those families had families, and those families had families of their own. Eventually, the human race did not like the fact that so many ‘blue bloods’ as they labeled us, were popping up. In an attempt to protect his people, Sabin had anyone with blue blood return to either the shadow or light monument, and cast a spell which hid the monuments in the shadows, or in the rays of the sun respectively. The various families built towns around the monuments, which marked the birth of Chateau and Orlouge Drantrak.”

“However, it did not stop the racist hate against us in that simpler time,” Niche Orlouge stepped out of the shadows, holding a bouquet of roses made of glass and placing them in the middle of the long table for a beautiful centerpiece. “They amassed several hate groups together, and tried attacking the two towns. Back then Mystics were pretty free to go as please. It was no problem locating a couple and finding out where they had holed up. They attacked in the dead of night, planning to slaughter all the Mystics who were asleep.”

A hardy laugh came from the kitchen, and stepping through the door was a rather large Tinerad Orlouge. The head of the family smirked to the girls. “But Sabin, who was still alive, albeit very ill, saw the attack coming from his tower, which is today the top floor of the Light Trials. He knew that the families weren’t bred for war, but he had to protect them somehow. As such, he casted a spell on each and every Mystic, making it to, if somebody struck at them, a glass shield would break and counter in some way against the foe. Once the men attempting the slaughter realized they could not lay a single blow on the Mystics, they fled in terror of the invincible race. Nobody had dared strike them a second time, for fear of something more powerful coming for them.”

Following Tinerad was his wife, the pink haired Armonia Orlouge, holding a platter in each hand, both of them holding a turkey in and of themselves. “All Sabin asked is that we never forget what happened on that night, the night that the glass shattered. He didn’t care how we honored it, but just asked that we did. As such, every year for one day, we pay respect to the glass that protects us the rest of the year by making sure it stays clean and pretty all night.”

Finally, Sei Orlouge stepped out of the kitchen as well. The mute Mystic was busy whisking up some eggs for the meal. However, since everyone else had put in their input on it, he figured he would as well. “Furthermore, during this Night of Glass, no Mystic has their Mystic Protection activated, with the exception of children who don’t know any better. For protecting us with the spell, we honor Sabin by showing him that times have changed, and hope there will be a day where no Mystic has to use the trademark spell of our people.”

As the family began to gather around the table, Emma and Ella blinked to each other. It was a fascinating tale, and explained almost everything about the Mystic Race. The older of the two girls smiled as he looked on, seeing her new family gather around for the meals Armonia and Sei were placing on the table one at a time. They were telling tales, being merry, and overall showing off every trait that was good in the human race.

“I think…if anyone can start making that dream a reality…” Emma looked to Sei, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s you….Dad.”

It was the first time the girl had referred to Sei as her father. Normally, she would have been reserved about any endearing term such as that. Perhaps now she was truly seeing who Sei Orlouge was. Born from a race shut off from humans, trying to reach out to the darkest of them to find their good qualities. As Emma walked up to the table and sat down with her sister, the whole family seemed to fall silent on the elder sister’s words.

“Happy Night of Glass.”

(Judgement should be up tonight)

[Silence Sei]

Okay, I had this half way done, but then I accidentally clicked a link, so now you get the short version.

1 - Flames of Hyperion ( 900 Exp, 200 GP)
2 - Zerith ( 500 Exp, 150 GP)
3 - Hysteria ( 500 Exp, 150 GP)

Alembic, Jack Frost, The Soulforged, blackdog1, Ganlon Martel, and Viola Conda all get 200 Exp

TwinCast and Rahegalhoff get 300 Exp

Jasmine and Wings of Endymion get 600 Exp

Requiem of Insanity gets 800 Exp

Duffy Bracken gets 900 Exp

Enigmatic Immortal gets 1000 Exp

Caden Law gets 1100 Exp

Silence Sei gets 1500 Exp

Happy Holidays yall.