Eventelia: Awakening

[Eventua]

The Empire was on the move. Being spring, the Empire would normally have been gripped by new hopes and possibilities: really, there should have been celebrations to do with the annual prosperity festivel.

In Gasperade, the Air Force was refueling and preparing to fly further northwards in order to set up a new outpost in the El'Fijh mountains, home to both Ice & Air elves. Air ships, loaded with troops, supplies and warmachines were ready to move out, and everyone was on full alert. The festivel there was being heavily monitored by the military, and no one could really enjoy themselves fully.

In Zenith, it was a fairly ordinary day for the people living there, though recently the army had been using the city as a base of operations for some sort of project further west, just past the border. The ancient temple at the heart of the city was currently being used to store weapons, unfortunately, and thus was not available for celebrations.

And in Magnum, people were trying to go about their daily lives, trying to have fun and focus on the festivel, but no one could really shake a continuous feeling that 'something is going to go wrong'. The streets were punctuated with various tunes, played over loud speakers.
----

Down one small street, in a comparatively rather high-end building, young 'prince' Fylel was busy playing chess, against a rather distraught butler.
With a slight smirk, he brought his rook to capture the butler's bishop, leaving two options left: move his queen to protect his king, or capture the rook. Either way, the game would be over in exactly two moves.

"Hmm... sir, it appears I have already lost." said the butler, his wrinkled brow seeming to double in wrinkly-ness from concentration.

"Indeed," replied Fylel, brushing aside a whiff of brown hair from his eyes and placing the pieces back in their starting positions.

"Fancy a rematch, Alfred? Heh, I'm sure you'll win this time. I'll even let you play white."

"No sir, it's fine. I really should return to serving your mother, shouldn't I?"

Fylel frowned slightly, before then nodding in response. Yes, you really ought to, she mustn't be left alone to long...

"Very well then, sir." And with a bow, the aging butler was gone from the room.

For a few minutes, the prince merely sat there, in his wide arm chair in the library. Looking out of the window, it was quite a nice day: the sun was shining, and it was filtering down through the window & the curtains, and for a moment he was sure he could see tiny fragments of every colour, refracting through the glass. With another smile, he decided it'd be a good idea to leave.
I haven't been out in a while: I really ought to get some exercise and fresh air, he thought, and with that he went to the door, not bothering to grab his coat, and was gone.
----

His feet clacked against the dull red pavement as he walked through long and twisting streets, the various apartments and occasionally the odd detached house loomed around and above him. The streets were mostly empty, save a couple of soldiers in plate armour on patrol, busily discussing something or other.
Eventually he found himself at something a dead end.

That's... odd. I don't remember this place, he thought, unsure why he wouldn't recognize part of the city only a few streets away from his own home.
It was derelict and probably empty: the windows were smashed or crudely done up with planks of wood, and the door was half broken in. Dust layered everything, and the whole building was cracked and decaying.

For a moment, he thought about just ignoring it and heading back the way he'd come. But then he felt something inside. He wasn't sure, but he felt, somewhere inside, that he ought to take a look.

 

[stripes]

"Damn Military! Screwing with the Spring Festival..."

Nathanial sat down at the kitchen table. His mother, Karma started to cut the bread while his brother Christopher laughed at his brother's rant. Alexander watched as his son continue to go on about the predicament his family was in. He looked over toward the empty chair and noticed that his little girl, Leena was missing.

"Where is Leena?"
___

Leena looked down from the top of the hill at the ancient temple. She sighed and watched as soldiers went in carrying guns, loading the temple for god knows what. She remembered when she was a little girl, her brother Nathanial would always carry her on his shoulder so that way she could see the fireworks. It was one of her fondest memories and now it felt as though, they were being erased by mayhem.

"You have to understand Alexander, she is not a little girl anymore..."

"Who is not a little girl anymore?"

Leena walked into the dining room, her family went quiet as she sat down at the table. Nathanial and Christopher looked at each other as Karma looked down at her plate. Alexander looked at Leena and smiled at her.

"You are late as usual Leena, practicing?"

Leena started to fix her plate, Nathanial looked at her and shook his head. All he could was think that his sister eats like a boy.

"No I was at the Temple. I don't like that they use a place that is meant to be sacred as a hiding place for their violence."

Karma nodded her head agreeing with her, Christopher shook his head knowing that it was about to cause a argument. Alexander sat down his fork and looked at his plate.

"Leena, boys, I know that this... Situation... is not the best but it is to protect us, the Kingdom knows what they are doing, we must put faith in them."

Christopher tilt his head back and sighed.

"Dad, I agree with you, that this is to protect us, but we can not have faith in the Kingdom or the higher caste after what they did to you and Mom..."

Karma raised up and smiled at her family, she never thought she would have the chance to raise such beautiful and smart children, but here they were having a civil argument with their father. She couldn't help but feel joyful for this moment. Leena looked up at her and knew exactly what her mom was thinking. That was one thing they shared and Leena loved it, she looked at her brother Christopher and shook her head. Christopher looked down at his plate and apologized to his Dad for what he said. Leena smiled at her dad and raised up.

"These are hard times we are facing but with family and the Spring bringing our family and the people of Zenith plenty of crops! We will make the best out of it!"

Leena raised her glass up for a toast, her family joined her in the toast and began to laugh. One thing Leena was good at was bringing the tension down in her home.

 

[LongLiveLife]

The spring breeze ran playfully through Zayen’s hood and rustled the blond locks under its cover. He closed his steel blue eyes, relishing in the rushing air along the contours of his cheekbones, clavicles and calves, and the penetrating warmth of the Andalucian sun. A husky voice from his side gave an impetuous yell which broke his reverie and threw his eyes open; it was accompanied by communal laughter. Someone told a joke. Though the blond man savored Spring’s many smells and sensations, he loathed the inevitable crowd that took over streets, the repetitive clicks from their shoes tapping the granite-paved roads, their barbaric conversations, the sheer pandemonium that followed.

Speak of the devil.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the blur of two sprinting children as they curved the sharp twists of the path, pushing unwary bystanders twice their size out of the way. He barely stepped aside in time to avoid joining the group of confused pedestrians that found themselves on their backs.

What’s this? he thought, lips parting for the first time since he stepped onto the bursting pavement. In the distance, he saw a figure dressed in all white, shirt rimmed by gold trimmings—this was no ordinary peasant; he was the prince. What could Mr. Royal be doing out alone? Without a posse of guards tailing his every move, no less. he noted, as he weaved through the swarm obstructing his path to the narrower street the prince followed. Supplies for his next Fiend-hunting expedition out of Magnum would have to wait now that His Majesty needed an escort. The money from a ransom of this proportion would fund limitless voyages. Not to mention the certainty of better accommodation.

Of course, he would never actually kill the prince—he had better moral standards than that—but that was something the Empire would not take chances with if they did not know it. He had the perfect target, and the thought of the riches that would come sent shivers running up and down his spine.

He looked up. He would need a better vantage point to see and not be seen.

He broke into a sprint toward the sidewall of a two-story house and allowed momentum to carry his weight halfway up its length. Back parallel to the ground, he kicked off the wall in an arching backflip and threw leg over head, landing in a crouch on the roof of the adjacent building. He launched into a run without missing a heartbeat, bridging the frequent gaps between neighboring houses with acrobatic finesse, never taking his eyes off the prince. This continued for the better part of ten minutes.

The prince stopped without warning and entered a building that looked like it had been abandoned for years. Puzzled, Zayen dove headfirst to the ground, swinging his body forward in midair. He caught his weight on the balls of his feet. Pushing off the ground, he followed the prince into the building. He noted that apart from looking like decay, it smelled like it too. “Need a favor,” he shouted, breaking the silence he postulated gripped the building for years. A stray gust swept the dust from its rest and veiled the sunlight streaming from the broken windows, conveniently obscuring his face as well. He smiled under dust's cover; years of use had not robbed the amusement from the tickle he felt from magic flowing through his body.

“You’re coming with me.”

 

[Shinra]

Renn had just arrived at the Gate to the city of Gasperade. "Cargo information sir?"
Renn handed a clipboard with the overlay of contents of the caravan, Price of the goods inside, and several other details not worth mentioning in this situation.

"Okay... I know I can trust your Father's company. He's always honest.... Open the gate men!"

"Yes sir!"

And with the Mechanical shifting of gears, the doors infront of Renn opened, and mind you they were huge, So huge that if a dragon could pass through. The city changed quite a bit over Renn's lifetime. But the gate has been there since his first trip here when he was 4 1/2 years old. Renn was just going to drop some goods off at some shops then gather his dues and probably stay the night at an inn. Then depart back to Calgaria

 

[Professor Ven]

The bells tolled, a righteous pealing of thundering psalms, as the Festival in Gasperade continued. Soldiers, far too many of them, stood watchful at their posts, and in the distance one could see the airships docking. And yet, he cared for little of this; the sky was cloudy, with no chance of rain, and such times sent dampening spirits among the common folk. Utterly blasphemous.

"And now-" spoke the announcer, monotone voice spoken in sheer boredom, yet rising in volume and excitement as he continued, "-it's my pleasure to announce the Fool of Fools, the Jaunty Jester of the Joyful, the Laughing Mannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. . Gibyrr Witticus!"

He flashed forward, appearing on a large circular, red-carpeted, stage, in a spray of multi-colored confetti and the rushing of pipe instruments and tamborines jingling. The people cheered, as the clowns and tumblers went by on their rolling balls.

A harp in hand, he strummed notes heavy, yet faint, fingers flying fleetingly faraway, as he took the audience into enchanting meadows, the harmonic sounds broken by demonic flat twangs, breaking the perfection, as a singer joyously brought life to his puppetry of strings, the baritone voice forcing back the dreary day.

Come one, come all
To the Festival, the fall
Of Winter, and let us
Welcome Spring, in Gasperade!

Drink and be merry friends
Lest our more warlike compatriots
Be irritable, and take their weapons
And fire them upon us!

Now, several in the crowd turned to one another, muttering words, and Master Witticus's mask warped, the smile growing curved, as he hopped off the stage, bells jingling with the sound of softened screams, as he walked into the crowd, following those that did not wish to stay and watch the remainder of his performance. The majority of the crowd had laughed heartily and the males drunk from their steins, which was exactly what he wanted, as Gibyr paced behind the three men, footsteps silent as death himself. One of the men was around his height, and the other two slightly taller. I dislike those who do not laugh. Those who do not laugh are often found that I always, always enjoy the last snicker.

A small vial slipped into his right, gloved hand, as he followed the men into a house, and poured the contents of the vial into a open tea pot, a dagger sliding to the grip of good ol' lefty. The three men walked upstairs, and Witticus' masked remained unchanged, ever-smiling, as he marched up the stairs, bells chiming softly. Ding dong ding dong here I come to kill you all...

The first fell in seconds, blood dripping from the slice of his throat, twitching as he bled out the last moments of life, unable to speak, lying on the floor after being forced to fall upon it by Witticus' heavy hand. The thud of something hitting the floor alerted the other two, who drew strange weapons - forged of bronze metal. The maniacal laughter, an immoral giggling overtook Gibyr, as he dodged a swinging blade, and jerked the pointy end of the already bloody dagger into the elf, using the momentum gained to vault ontop of the last victim, stopping the blade being thrust towards him by catching it between his palms, as if in prayer. Why yes, I am very practical about my preying. That is, slicing their throat and watching the blood flow out like the fountains in the Crown Prince's Court.

The blade was snatched by Gibyr whilst in his Zen-ful position of pure enlightenment, flipped into the air, and rocketed into his weeping foe's sternum, the crack of which echoed in the room, as a small trickle of blood splattered around the Laughing Man, yet it never came closed to tarnishing his multi-colored motley. Goodbye, enjoy the eternal sleep, ninnies.

Removing the dagger which was owned by him, Witticus dipped it into the open teapot, and it came out clean, turning the water inside a delicate brown. It disappeared back down into his sleeve, and he walked back to the festival's center, the bells tolling a brighter ringing, and Gibyr Witticus returned into the mob of dancing revelers. Do de do de dooo.. Now to spin jump cartwheel spin again and flip. .

 

[Eventua]

For a moment, Fylel was deep in thought, alone in this aging place. Everything was covered in dust, but looking around he noticed many old posessions and nick nacks. Worthless treasures, things which would undoubtedly have been considered by someone with the right memories to be invaluable, but to everyone else would not be worth a few stray coins.
“Need a favor,” came a voice from behind him. He spun around on the spot, his vision obscured by dust and darkness.

“You’re coming with me.”

At the stranger's words, Fylel cursed under his breath. You see, this is why you don't wander through derelict, run down parts of town wearing valuable clothes.

"I see..." he replied, drawing his rapier. "What's the plan? Mug me? Kill me? Hold me to ransom? I'm rather good at fencing, I'll have you know."
Even as the words left his lips, part of him couldn't help but feel annoyed: couldn't someone walk around without being robbed?

Except I'm not really normal, hmph.

He lifted his sword, pointing it at the stranger.
"What's your name?" he asked, as confidently as he could... unfortunately, that wasn't very much.

 

[IceBlueWings]

The Air Force zooming across Gasperade's skies did not bring down Cardea's enthusaism. The annual festival was not to be disturbed and this was shown by the music playing in her house with her family moving about with a bounce in their steps.

Though there was some kind of performance around town, Cardea knew her family and friends were putting up their own somewhere. She walked towards the familiar music playing until she went to the town centre, where she met familiar faces.

She ran towards them, everyone grinning with glee. People were already waiting for them to begin. One of her cousin lifted her and spun around. "It will be magnificent." He said. She nodded, matchig his enthusiasm.

There was nothing around them except for the dancers and the audience in front. Taking their positions, the beat of the music sent them off into a graceful and captivating dance, as if the wind was controlling their bodies. There was something Cardea had not shown when she came back to town except to her family; her power.

She might just let all the water flow from around them if she had not seen the look her cousin gave her to wait until it was actually time. She grinned. They moved smoothly, until Cardea knew it was time. Water appeared, creating an effect that stunned the audience. No one knew who was doing it but everyone enjoyed the performance nevertheless.

The crowd cheered when it ended, and the dancers went to take a break, except for Cardea. She saw a jester, a very lively jester but somehow eerie. If she wasn't mistaken, his name was Witticus. She stopped, looking at him from the crowd, wondering what made her think he looked so strange.

 

[LongLiveLife]

The hooded man could not resist the widening grin stretching his lips. Did the prince really ask for his assailant’s name? Palace life was sheltered indeed. “Listen, kid.” He chuckled. “You must be new to the kidnapping thing, so I’ll let you in on the rules. One, keep your weapon stowed at all times.” Holding both hands open to his sides, he meandered closer to the prince. “Two, I’m in charge, so whatever I say goes.” Now directly behind the prince, he circled his prey like an eagle before it dives for the kill. “Three,” he whispered, “if you break any of the rules, I’ll break your spine in three places faster than you can pull your play-sword from its holder.” He gripped both the prince’s shoulders and spoke directly into his ear. “Are we clear, Fylel?”

Hollow threats. But the prince didn’t know that. Zayen’s gut wrenched with guilt: this was no way to address royalty; it was a one-way ticket to exile. And though he long since learned the ways of the nomad and had nothing keeping him in Magnum, dodging the Empire’s guard was something he wanted his life free of. Was the ransom money really worth the criminal life?

Too late for questions. Fear was the easiest way to keep people in line, and he could almost taste it exuding from the prince’s sweat. Backing out now accomplished nothing.

He let go of Fylel’s shoulders and leapt backward, the pause imperceptible. “Glad we got that sorted,” he said, making his way toward the broken door, back facing his captive. “Now are you going to come nicely, or am I going to have to make you?” The confident smirk plastered across his face betrayed none of his internal conflict. Years and fortunes spent in gambling houses was experience enough to keep his emotions in check.

“Come, come!” He pointed to the door with one hand and waved the other in frantic circles, urging the prince to make his way to the door.

 

[Aliahya]

“Jarin, your not focusing” A near aged man said sternly, his blue eyes seemed lively amongst the wrinkles of his face.

“Sorry, Sir” Jarin said awkwardly. “It’s just a memory”

“A memory trouble’s my apprentice…how cliché” the old man said with a smile, as he proceeded to pour two glasses of Zenith’s finest water. He handed it to Jarin, who sipped. The cooling water fell down his throat and he released a deep breath.

“I think I need to travell again, Dorix, I think I need to see the world”

Dorix wandered over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You miss your family…and your friends”

“I…yes” he said with a relief of breath. “I dreamt about Jaryl last night…I think he’s in danger”

“Perhaps your training is finished for now. Go back to Gasperade...find your friend…and after we shall expore the temples in search of the stones I use to tell you about” he smiled graciously, showing the broken and loose teeth from the excess drinking.

Jarin smiled…”Perhaps I should just sleep on it…and things might just sort them selves out”

“Always another option…Perhaps one day you will make your own decision”

Jarin sighed, his legs walking towards his bed. Zenith was a world of wonders…But he felt as if he left now, he would never forgive himself for leaving Dorix. Jarin eyed the old man, who had taught him all he knew about the Voltaic magic of the world. Jarin rubbed is stomach and felt the three marks that he was born with. Maybe my destiny is in Gasperade after all…he thought to himself

 

[Shinra]

"Here are your goods Sir."

Renn said as he handed a good sized box to a man in his mid-thirties.

"So taking over your Pop's biz eh?"

"No. I'm just working up some extra cash to move somewhere...not sure where though."

"Oh. Well good luck son."

"Thanks Sir."

Renn took his money then just as he left the store, he heard bells ringing.
"Festival Time. It seems to perk even the most reserved person up." Renn said as a smile perked up.
And with that smile. his haste in his work increased two-fold, finishing his job within 2 hours.

 

[stripes]

As a plane flew over the house, Leena was cleaning off the kitchen table. Her brothers were in the living room with their father talking about the family business. Leena walked into the kitchen, her mom was humming and washing the dishes. She would look up every now and then at the stars, that could barley be seen because of the lights, but were there.

Karma look at her daughter and smiled, "Darn planes! Ruining my quiet evening"

Leena shook her head and hug her mom from behind, "Mom, your evenings are never quiet."

Karma laughed and kissed her daughter's forehead, she went to stroke her hair back and realized how short it was. She pouted a little bit, all Leena could do was laugh.

"Leena it is bad enough that you are training everyday and not getting me grandchildren but you cut off your beautiful hair."

Karma smiled at her daughter and fluffed her hair, "But now you really do look like a wolf."

Alexander walked into the kitchen and kissed his wife's and daughter's forehead and smiled.

"Leena, I need you to go take the train to Gasperade tomorrow and get some medical supplies for me."

Leena looked at him confused, "By myself?! I mean I want to! But I thought you didn't like me going out by myself...."

Alexander started to help Karma wash the dishes, "I have a feeling, that you will be safe and that this is something you have been wanting to do for sometime..." He looked at Karma who smiled at him.

"Thank you Dad! I promise to not let you down!"

She hugged her parents and ran off to tell her brothers.

 

[Eventua]

Cold sweat dripped down Fylel's forehead. The man moved like some sort of ghost: undetectable, he came from any angle, impossible to predict. It didn't help that recently he'd been feeling kind of 'on-edge', plus those weird dreams of the man in a hood...

Wait a second... he knows my name?

He decided to sheath his sword and to try and keep composed. Not easy, that: for all he knew, the guy had no morals.

“Come, come!” urged the man as he pointed to the door with one hand and waved the other in frantic circles, urging the prince to make his way to the door.
Fylel decided to oblige, but he was suddenly feeling a bit cynical as he walked to the broken down entrance.

"I'd like to point out that the city is under heavy guard: I'm wondering, how far do you expect to get before someone spots you? And how, exactly, do you know my name?" he said, one eyebrow raised curiously.

 

[LongLiveLife]

His stride faltered at the prince’s sudden inquisition: he had given this plan little thought and was unprepared for overcoming the city defenses. He’s good, preying on mental weakness like this; has to be if he’s going to take over the Empire. His jaw hung agape for the better half of a second. “You see, Your Majesty,” he said, recuperating feigned assurance. “The answer to your question is quite simple.” He turned to face the prince. “You are going to make sure nothing happens to us, more specifically, me, before we leave the city. If any guard makes the mistake of strolling through our path, you will send him away; you will insist on it, because if he so much as breathes suspicion—”

He choked. Man, get a hold of yourself. His Highness over here’s going to see right through your act, then you’ll become public enemy number one without the riches to sail you through. A glint flickered in his eye. No, it’s time for a different approach.

Now blocking the prince’s path to the door, he turned and said, “I really don’t want to hurt you, Fylel, but I need to know you’ll cooperate with me. It’s not your life I want, it’s just money. What would you blue bloods even know about it?” He paced to the middle of the vacated building, into a stream of dust-filtered light. “Let me guess: born in a silver spoon; lived your whole—what—twenty-four, twenty-five years with no shortage of free flowing riches; daddy’s favorite little boy, no? You’ve never had to work for anything. You want to know how I know your name? It’s because you’re royalty; your name, your face are known within these borders, and further beyond.”

“It’s different for the rest of us,” he continued. “We struggle to make ends meet, and the Empire leaves us to rot.”

“You want to see what it’s really like for the masses, learn what it’s like to have nothing handed to you on a silver platter, to live a day in the lives of the people you will soon rule? Come with me. Smell the fear in the uncertainty of whether your next dinner will be your last. Just forget about responsibility for two seconds and see reality for the ninety-nine percent alive without your royal lineage.” He returned to the entrance. “I promise it’ll make you a better leader."

"I mean, what’s the point in claiming the throne if your people despise you?” He held out a hand, palm up. “What do you say?”

 

[Eventua]

The assailant's change in attitude was quite alarming, and suddenly Fylel was unsure of what should be done.
He still didn't trust the guy: he might have been sheltered, but it was a long running, unofficial rule amongst the nobility that you never trust the common folk. True, most of them would happily give their lives for you because every moment of every day they were being told, 'we're better than you, by right of birth'. But when they didn't, you had to be careful.
Very careful.

He listened intently to what the man said. Part of him wanted to just shut out the words, let them go in one ear and out the other: after all, the man was a thug, hardly the sort of person able to give decent advice on politics or rulership. Never-the-less, some of it struck a cord: he'd spent most of his life living in a fancy, expensive house in a wealthier part of town, even if he was despised by his father. Not determined enough. Connected with the supposedly 'unholy' element. A failure.
Not that I will ever claim the throne, heh... but I still have influence.

"Very well then," he said, walking out of the wreckage. "But you know, I'd still like to know your name."

 

[Aliahya]

The next morning came quickly and Jarin smiled with the heat and blaze that arrived through his window. But to his surprise he found a letter, from Dorix

Dear Jarin,

I’ve discovered by this point, that you have made no means of furthering your decision to your friend. Thus I’m giving you a push in the correct destination. Underneath this letter is a napsack filled with necessary equipment for your travell and a train ticket…Your destiny is in Gasperade..

Much respect,

Dorix

P.S Feed the animals before you leave…you have time…

Jarin smiled and shook his head as he noticed the large bags of feed for the animals. He hoisted them over his shoulder and went about his duty. The sun was high in the sky by the time he was finished, and Jarin made his way to the train station. His pack was firm on his shoulder. And by his side, hung a sword. He handed the ticket to the workman, and began waiting for his train to Gasperade.

 

[LongLiveLife]

The thug smiled. Tact paid off, and the prince had started to buy into his ruse; all he needed now was to remove the guards and send that ransom note. The latter was simple enough—just tell any of the Royals’ goons to pass the message, possibly shake him up a smidgen before to make sure he complied, and let the money come pouring—but it required the success of the first. He followed the prince out of the building.

“Call me ‘Z’,” he said, voice returning to his regular baritone outside the cavernous echoes of the building. “Sorry, Prince, if you want my full name—most likely for that ‘Wanted’ notice you’ll be putting up at every street corner, pub wall and letterbox—I’m going to need my money first.”

He led the prince through the twists and turns of tight streets between congested terraces, left and right in successive alternation like navigating a labyrinth. Jogging ahead, he turned to face the prince and continued his backward trot. “Like I promised, you’re in for a real treat today: we’re touring the slums. This is where the poorest of the poor live, and disease and rats run rampant. Bet you haven’t even seen a rat where you’re from, am I right?” Steam shrieked as it escaped a nearby chimney, but the bevy of peasants dressed in multitudinous shades of soot-stained gray were unperturbed. He caught the look of unease that took the prince’s expression. “Don’t worry, we’re only here to pick up some supplies; we won’t be long.”

He wheeled to his left and entered the weapons shop, bringing both palms to the wooden table, arms stretched. “Miguel!” he called the blacksmith with familial amiability. “Ten throwing knives, one eight inch dagger—just the basics. Hit me up.”

“One day you will be your own death.” The blacksmith chuckled, voice aged and wheezy, as he stood up to retrieve the order. “Why don’t you give up this wild goose chase of yours, go home to mom and let the Empire handle the Fiends? You are powerless to stop them anyway.”

“Because I’m twenty-eight, too old to be living—“

“By Drite! Is that Prince Fylel you’re harboring? Boy, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“This guy?” Zayen turned and made a cursory gesture at the prince. “No, he’s just a distant cousin. One of The Joyful; they’re putting on a play soon. Pretty convincing, isn’t he? Got the sword and everything.” He tossed the money on the table, picked up the weapons, and exited the shop before the blacksmith could stop him. “Thanks, Mig. I’ll be seeing you.”

Turning now to face the prince, he said, “The lack of education in this area has left people in it bereft of sense; they’ll believe anything you tell them. And with ignorance comes danger. You’ve got to lie low here: some will kill you for being you, just for the fun of it; not everyone has my leniency.”

He ran ahead and pointed to stairs leading to the train station, a massive brick construction majestic in size and color, a rich terracotta against the stark tans of surrounding buildings. It towered over the run-down slums and threatened to engulf the neighborhood with its breadth. “Empire keeps the train stations far from the main city—trains are loud and disturb the rich folk, but apparently commoners are immune to noise.” They entered the hall, greeted by foreign smells of foreign places, foreign voices and foreign people; the Magnum Interchange burst with life and, with it, noise, both human and train. A mother held her daughter’s hand as she exited the station, smiling. “It’s ironic: the people who live around the station—most of them have not even been on one ride; they can’t afford it.” He grimaced as they strolled deeper into the station along the length of a nearby train.

“Prince!” a burly voice shouted from the opposite platform. Zayen whirled and faced the voice; the color drained from his face. Guard. Unflinching, he spun and rammed Fylel into the open carriage. Catching his weight on the upper rim of the door with both hands, he swung his body into the carriage and collapsed on his back beside the prince. The door slammed shut behind him as the train jerked forward.

This is a passenger announcement. A female voice emanated from near invisible speakers. Please ready your tickets, and ensure your seatbelt is securely fastened. Refreshments will be served shortly after all passengers have been confirmed. Enjoy your journey to Gasperade.

 

[Eventua]

As they'd traveled through those dark, depressing back alleys, Fylel had remained silent, part of him unable to really comprehend what the stranger named 'Z' had told him... and now what he'd been shown.
He'd known for a long time that the gap in living standards between the Strong and the Many was large, but they'd been living in rags...

How can... how could this've happened?! he thought angrily. He was stunned, frankly, and wasn't really paying much attention to the fact they were heading for the train station, lost in his own thoughts.
He was awoken from his stupor by a loud call from somewhere else.

“Prince!” a burly voice shouted, and before Fylel snapped out of it and had a chance to react he'd been pushed into the nearest train, landing with a heavy thump, and then narrowly having Z land on him, though he quickly rolled to the side. He dusted himself off as he listened to the woman's voice.
Gasperade...?! He glared at Z & crossed his arms, still in a measure of disbelief.

"Why are we going to Gasperade, exactly?"
The newpaper this morning... the air force are heading into Gasperade, heh. If he thinks he can set me up for some sort of kidnapping there, he might be in for a surprise.

 

[stripes]

Leena looked down the train tracks as she patiently waited for her train. Her parents only dropped her off a few minutes ago and she felt so flustered, her parents were overprotective. She giggled to herself as she looked at her duffel bag, her mom packed her two lunches and too many clothes.

She yawned and looked at the sky, it kind of sucked that she wouldn't be able to practice for a couple of days and even worse, there was not much soil in Gasperade, but her old home was, she missed being there. She looked down as the train arrived and waited to board.

Leena found a empty set of seats towards the front. She sat down and looked out the window, it was starting to rain, not to mention planes were flying over her head, she hated the sounds of planes. She put one earphone into her ear, waiting for the train to move onward to her destination.

 

[Story Keeper]

Click, click, click.

Looking around her, a grin spread across her face; taking in the sights and the festivities.
She listened to the music playing, spinning around; she watched as the water suddenly started dancing. Tora's eyes searched for the source; obviously someone was using their magic to control it. Absorbed in her task, Tora didn't realize until later that someone had come up from behind.

"What you up to little sister?"

A squeak escaping her, Tora wheeled to face her brother. She glowered at him, angry that he would take her by surprise. Ruffling her hair, Rhys said soothingly, “Calm down Tora, you know I didn’t mean to scare you. I know something that‘ll help to cheer you up!”

Taking her by the waist, he spun her into the crowd; matching the steps perfectly. She smiled at her brother, he was head and half taller than her; and while they both had blue eyes and fair skin; he had spiky brown hair compared to her straight, bluish-white hair. Laughing happily, Tora got lost in the music, keeping her own magic in check.

As the song melted away, giving the dancers a brief break, Tora pulled away from her brother. “I’m going to look around town, ‘Kay?” She asked, getting a nod of approval, Tora slipped into the crowd. Feeling the music humming in her veins, she followed the twists and turns. Enjoying the sounds of music around her, Tora bumped into someone and stumbled backward; falling down, she muttered, “I’m so sorry! I should’ve been more careful.”

 

[Professor Ven]

Once the dance was over, Witticus bowed along with the fellow Joyful, and he departed for the tents, leaving them to do as they pleased. The water effect near the end was probably from one of the newer additions to the traveling caravans; Gibyr was unphased by it happening. Some things are simply more joyful than others, like the twisting of a person's intestines after you quarter-cut open his stomach. Oh, yes indubitably, ser.

A sadistic spring in his proverbial step, however metaphorically bloody it might be, Gibyr walked to where the money-box, and the 'leader' of the caravans sat, a small pile of currency in front of him. Finances were of as little of a concern to Witticus as being a noble was to be of the 'Strong' caste. Bunch of lily-livered codfishes, all of them. I remember the first 'Strong' one I killed, that sickening rotund fellow. He screamed like a frightened member of the feminine gender, as the blade came crashing down, the look on his bemoaning face worth a thousand paintings, oh the JOY of it. .

The masked marauder held out a hand, and the currency dropped into his hand. He never checked to see if he'd been gypped or had a pay cut due to one or two of the caravan's wheels having been broken on the way. Money was nothing but a fuel for greed in humanity - he could easily know that for more than a fact. There is your young and beautiful Phoebe, lying stone dead; O Ralph, O Ralph! Imbecile, Wilhelm of Shayk'purne.

All of his kits and such were on his person, as Master Witticus left the caravan. He had gone with the Troupe since their first leaving the capital of the Empire, and this was his stop. They didn't regulate who left when or where; the only thing kept in order was who performed on what day and who did not, and there were few liars. Simply because liars don't live very long, due to having no tongues, and taking a nice dirt nap. . .

A figure bumped into him, falling down and landing on the ground with a muted thump. The silver mask's smile widened, as he leered down at the girl, who was already muttering an apology. A soft scream of the chiming of the nine little bells on his hat pealed as he adjusted his cranium, wordlessly offering a gloved hand, helping the youngling-meatsack up from her fall. Hopping into the air, he clicked the heels of the shoes, bells ringing in the wake of his bewildering, nay, frightening visage.

Moments later brought him to the train station, where he performed a front flip for a small crowd of children, nearly face-planting into the back of the bench, and landing perfectly seated in its not-so-well maintained seating, watching the train begin to warm up, steam shooting out from its vertical funnel atop the engine, as his blank, eerie mask mentally slaughtered everyone he stared at, with the mask's pitch-black eye-holes and mouth, wide as ever.