Let Them Sing
EXP: 155,108, Level: 17
Level completed: 18%,
EXP required for next Level: 14,892
In between the lens and light (closed to Flamebird)
Shinsou wondered whether he was finally making the right choice. Five years had gone by since the formation of the Brotherhood, and the legacy that had been left behind had only been one of political unrest, civil war and endless feuding. Meanwhile, Corone’s economy sat in shambles. Conflict and uncertainty left potential trade partners too apprehensive to leave their fates to chance. Merchants lined the promenade from one end to the other and practically begged anyone they saw to buy from them.
The stench of death seemed to be ever present. It was almost to the point where the Telgradian wondered if it was real or, perhaps, was it just his guilt manifested and stalking him wherever he went, whispering in his ear of the destruction of Whitevale by Arius Mephisto? He tasted the warm bile on his tongue as he stifled vomit and his face contorted with disgust. There was no order to be seen anywhere as he wandered the streets outside of his home in Tylmerande. Once a thriving port town, it was fast becoming a population that scrounged and struggled to survive.
"Please friend," a bedraggled merchant gripped at his sleeve with frantic fingers. Shinsou instinctively pulled away. "Please, won't you buy some of my fine fruits? I grow them in my garden, just out of the city-"
"No, thank you," The Telgradian waved him away and peeled the vice-like fingers from his shirt. "I have somewhere to be. Perhaps another time."
A howl of discontent erupted from the merchant as he relented, hands tearing at his face. "How am I going to feed my son?" he asked the world.
Injustice. Shinsou knew her to be a cruel master, and all too well. He could only ignore the abhorrent outcries and continue along the path. He had not lied. Several days before, a letter had come from Radasanth. It was from Felicity Rhyolite. The Telgradian had responded, promising of finally continuing his training with her. It wasn’t just an empty promise this time. There needed to be revolution, change, peace, and prosperity for the people of Corone, but also for him, and especially for Felicity.
The taverns were all the business left in Tylmerande that had not fallen victim to the times. They were more alive than ever before, lit up even at the darkest hours of night and filled to the brim with patrons who wanted to forget their troubles. Depression made money for the proprietors, and they could not afford to take moral issue with it. Shinsou made plans to meet with Felicity in one of the most crowded, bustling holes in all the town.
"Mind if I trouble you for a drink?" Shinsou announced himself over the dull roar of the crowd as he pushed through the doors of the Ship Inn. The first girl to see him smiled brightly, her attire dutifully suited to the tavern's decor. Golden blonde hair framed her face and spilled over her shoulders, which accentuated the full view he received as she leaned forward to address him.
"What can I get for you, stranger?" she grinned. Her eyes were blue like the sky, and they shone brightly in the natural lighting that filtered through the windows. "The tap is a regular local ale, but we're serving Raiaeran wine that we were able to import just recently as well."
"The ale," he laughed, "wine is a bit too sophisticated for me, I'm afraid."
She pouted and pulled back a bit and rested one arm just under her breasts. She touched a finger to her lips. Shinsou deigned not to break eye contact. "Shame," she clicked her tongue, "I could get you a glass on the house to see if you like it?" she offered.
"No, no," he shook his head, "But I appreciate your generosity." Whether or not it was true, Shinsou knew full well the enchantment of Raiaeran Red. He would be penniless and incoherent before dawn if he stole even a sip.
"Suit yourself," she laughed and turned to retrieve his ale. Shinsou glanced over the crowd and then up the staircase nearby, to the agreed meeting place. He ascended to a sparsely populated area, full of tables but only two or three were populated, and sat slosest to the railing with a broad view of the busy ground floor.