"All violence consists in some people forcing others, under threat of suffering or death, to do what they do not want to do.” - Leo Tolstoy
Outside in the garden, as the snow started to thaw, small buds of plants broke through the soft soil and reached toward the warmth of the sun’s rays. Birds began to sing, heralding the incoming of spring as the warm breeze blew through every corner, clearing away the cold air.
In the town of Ivalos, the residents were walking around in the street, greeting one another, as they shopped for new novelties to decorate their home for the season. Some housewives were airing out their dirty winter laundry, hanging it on a rack in their backyard while their husband chopped woods a few feet away. Children gathered together as they made their way to the nearby lake, hung a rope on a sturdy looking branch, and swung on it into the water below. Everywhere, people were glad to welcome the arrival of spring, marking the end of the wintry cold season, and the beginning of the hunt.
At first, only a few adventurers arrived in the town before the spring thaw. In the morning, they would chat with the locals, sightsee, and ate the regional cuisine before partying at the tavern when the sun went down and had to be carried back to their room at the local inn. However, as spring approached, more and more outsiders began to arrive in the town.
The first wave of the spring arrivals consisted of merchants, coming early to set up their stalls and securing storage space for their cargoes. The town always welcomed the merchants because that meant that there were new goods for trade. Though bartering between merchants and their clients sometimes got heated, they never grew to become violent and were always resolved amicably at the end.
After the merchants were the nobles and their escorts, the knights. Due to Ivalos being relatively close the frontier and far away from the capital, it was rare to see any noble with a ranking higher than viscount making the journey to attend the event. This year was no different.
For the most part, reception from the town toward the nobles divided cleanly into two camps. Those that were on the higher rung of the local society welcomed the nobles because it meant they were able to make connections to advance their career. On the other hand, the other half of the town hated them. Nobles were prideful and they caused constant problems everywhere they went; whether it was complaining about their lodging, or the food, or just because someone looked at them the wrong way. If someone offended a noble, they could be executed on the spot for the offense of lèse-majesté without a trial or, in other words, pretty much any reason. The knight escorts meant that the townspeople could not even think about offending a noble without the threat of immediate execution.
Once the nobles fully settled into their lodgings, the adventurers made up the overwhelming majority of the third wave to arrive. Opposite of the nobles, the adventurers were well received by the regular town folks who saw them simply as helpful, fun-loving people. The adventurers took on requests from cities and towns for various jobs, ranging from collecting ingredients in the field to exterminating threats that were not considered dangerous enough to mobilize the army. Due to their profession, adventurers constantly lived on the razor’s edge and so, as a result, they were more open to spend their earnings just to live in the moment. However, because of their fun-loving ways, people from the upper echelon of society interpreted their behaviors as mostly rowdy and uncivilized. Nevertheless, despite the fact that nobles and adventurers typically do not get along with one another, they also do not intentionally antagonize one another, choosing to avoid the other whenever possible.
After the arrival of the adventurers, the town became more festive. Butterflies of the night were everywhere one looked, flitting between the crowds of people, looking for their next companion. Merchants and hawkers lit up the streets as they man their stall, inviting people to check out their wares. Pubs and taverns were filled with cheers, people toasting to good food and the days ahead. Day or night, the town became a place of celebration and fun as people waited for the mist to dissipate.
On the outskirt of the town, Iris watched as people lined up outside of the town’s gate, waiting to be let in, her eyes locked on to one person in particular.
“A troublesome one came huh…,” she mumbled to herself.
Jostling her hair, she thought about what she should do. Under the current circumstances, she could not openly start a fight, the consequences would be too much of a hassle for her to clean up. However, she could not leave this individual alone, fearing the unpredictable consequences that she might bring. Giving a quick glance in the direction of Janus’ resting place, Iris groaned and began to trudge toward the town.
Outside the town’s gates, many people were lining up, waiting for the guards to inspect their cargoes before allowing them passage to the festivities inside. Amongst the crowd was a young woman, her body and face hidden beneath a raggedy looking wool blanket littered with dirt and leaves that it picked up in her travels. To others, she looked like any other beggar that arrived with the fourth wave of visitors to the city during this time of year. The pants she wore was dirty and riddled with holes. On her feet, she wore a pair of sandals that looked like it was dragged through a grinder, barely holding itself together. Blending in amongst the crowd, she patiently waited for her turn.
Before her name was called by the guards, a hand gripped her shoulder from behind.
“What are you doing here?” the person behind her asked.
“I could ask you the same thing, Iris,” the girl retorted.
“Bow out,” Iris commanded her. “It’s not your turn to take the stage yet.”
“And who gets to decide that? You?”
Ignoring the irritation in the girl’s voice, Iris flatly told the girl, “Leave or I’ll make you.”
Gripping Iris’ hand on her shoulder and removing it, the girl turned around and scowled at Iris from beneath her blanket. Then, raising her right hand, she snapped her fingers before removing the blanket entirely from her body.
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Emerging from beneath the piece of cloth was a young woman of breathtaking beauty, contrary to her earlier form. Her appearance now looked as if it was sculpted by the hands of the gods themselves.
She moved her long, delicate finger and gently shifted her chartreuses colored hair behind her ears, revealing a pair of almond shaped eyes hidden beneath perfectly manicured brows, punctuated by irises the color of translucent emerald that gave her gaze the impression that it could pierce into the depth of another person’s soul. Her nose was delicate and balanced as it sat, centered on her face, above her small rosy lips.
She was neither tall nor short as she stood in front of Iris, her back straight as she thrusted out her moderately sized chest. While her body was smaller than Iris, she was by no mean weaker as her porcelain skin gave off a healthy pink glow, the curvatures of her waist and hip further accentuated her loveliness as if she was a descendant of a fae that came from the land of Tír na nÓg.
“A bit excessive don’t you think?” Iris remarked upon seeing what the girl had done.
“Don’t be such a bore, it would be far more troublesome had I not do it,” the girl replied, slightly pouting.
Together they glanced at people in their surroundings, paused in the moment right before she girl snapped her fingers.
“Let us talk,” the girl said.
“I don’t think there is room for negotiation here. Leave the stage or I will make you,” Iris repeated.
“Even for you, it would be difficult,” the girl asserted as she leaned forward, one hand on her hip and the other traced her long, delicate fingers against Iris’ armor.
“Unless you think you’re more powerful than Rose, you’re welcome to try,” Iris warned her.
“Strength is relative,” the girl said as she spun around, walking away from Iris in an exaggerated motion.
“Leave,” Iris said. “This is the third time; I won’t repeat myself again.”
“I refuse,” the girl rejected Iris’ command as she came to a stop. “How about a compromise?”
“I’m listening.” Iris exhaled as she stood, her arms crossed in front of her chest.
“I won’t interfere directly, and you can continue with whatever you’re doing.”
Seeing Iris raising her eyebrow, the girl quickly continued.
“It is in both of our interests to keep him alive, but at this pace, nothing will happen. I’ll just provide the catalyst for some fun and you can stand there and look pretty.”
“As long as you do not take actions against him directly, I’m fine with it.” Iris replied.
“Then do we have a mutual agreement?”
“For now,” Iris said before disappearing from the girl’s sight.
Satisfied, the girl smiled as she put back on her tattered blanket and hid her appearance once again.
Returning to her place in the queue to enter the city, she snapped her fingers, and the world restarted itself as if nothing was amiss.
“Dahlia Alxurui” a guard called out as the girl walked forward and handed him her identification.
“What are you here for?” the guard asked as his eyes looked condescendingly upon her.
“Just a bit of fun at the festival,” Dahlia replied with a smile, revealing a bit of her face as her eyes stared directly into his.
Transfixed by her gaze, the guard eyes clouded over as he returned her identification and allowed her access into the city.
“Now where should I go?” Dahlia pondered to herself before noticing a little girl standing at one of the stalls, gazing at the candy apples on display
Strolling over to the young girl, Dahlia approached her from behind and gently tapped on her shoulder.
“Hi,” Dahlia greeted her in a sing-song voice.
Puzzled at the unknown voice, the girl turned around to see Dahlia crouching on the ground, her hands on her knee, smiling at her.
“Do you want one of them?” Dahlia asked as she pointed to the candies on display.
Still confused, the little girl nodded her head hesitantly, unsure of what was going on.
Pushing herself up, Dahlia walked over the stall vendor and pointed to the candy apples.
“Two please,” she told the vendor.
“10 Bronze Neos” the vendor replied.
After handing over her money and receiving the candy apples in exchange, Dahlia turned to the little girl behind her and handed over one of the candy apples, keeping the other one for herself.
“What’s your name” she asked the girl.
“Illia,” the girl answered as she took the candy from Dahlia and started to lick the caramel surface.
“Are you lost Illia?” Dahlia asked.
Shaking her head, Illia replied, “My mom told me to wait here, and she will be back in a few minutes.”
“I see,” Dahlia nodded. “Is it okay if I ask you a quick question?”
“Sure.”
“I’m looking for a friend of mine. His name is Janus, do you know him?”
“Yes,” Illia answered. “He’s currently staying with me and my parents.”
Upon hearing Illia’s answer, a radiant smile appeared on Dahlia’s face as she thanked Illia before disappearing into the crowd, just as Illia’s mother returned to pick her up.
After saying goodbye to Illia, Dahlia began to make her way to one of the largest inns in the city of Ivalos. On a deserted street close to the inn, she transformed her raggedy blanket into a vibrant green cocktail dress, adorned with various intricate designs along its length before walking to the inn’s entrance.
Strolling past the knights guarding the entrance to the inn, Dahlia walked up the stairs to the highest floor before standing in front of the most ornately decorated door in the building. Gently, she reached out her hand and knocked on the door three times.
“Who is it?” a voice rang out from the inside of the room.
“Dahlia Alxurui,” she answered.
Soon as she responded, the door violently swung open and a handsome young man in his mid-twenty stood at the entrance, his mouth agape as he gazed upon her visage, captivated by her beauty.
“Please come in,” he stuttered.
Accepting his invitation, Dahlia made her way into the room and sat herself upon a royal chair, clad in gold with white upholstery, positioned to the side of a small table in the center of the room.
“It’s good to see you, Viscount Orto” she said to the young man.
Closing the door behind him as she entered the room, the young viscount immediately went before her and prostrated himself at her feet, his head glued to the floor as if he did not dare to look up.
“No…,” he continued to stutter. “The…pleasure…is…all…mine.”
“You seem to be healthy,” she commented.
“By your grace,” Orto replied, his body trembling violently, sweat pouring out from all of his pores onto the floor. “How may I assist you?”
“Just a small favor,” Dahlia answered.
“Anything!” the Orto shouted; his eyes still glued to the floor.
“There’s a little girl I want you to bring to me. She lives on the outskirt of the town with her parents. Her name is Illia. You can use any method you want; I just want you to bring her to me alive. As for her parents, you can act as you please.”
“May I ask what’s so special about this girl?”, Orto whimpered as he slightly raised his head from the floor, taking a peek at her expression.
Immediately, as soon as he sensed her eyes looking down at him, he slammed his head into the floor as if he just committed a great sin.
“My deepest apologies,” he shouted at the top of his lung. “I did not mean to question your will. I will get it done.”
“Good. I’ll look forward to the result.” Dahlia smiled as she watched Orto, still in his prostrating position, shuffled backward and out the room, the entire time not daring to look up at her.
Then, on the outside of the door, she could hear him yelling to his knights, ordering them to do as she instructed.
Pouring herself a cup of tea from the freshly brew teapot on the table into an unused cup, she let out an amused smile as she looked out the large window in the direction of Illia’s home.
“Don’t disappoint me,” Dahlia said as she took a sip of the tea.
In the distance, Iris sat in her tree and observed as Dahlia executed her plan. Leaning against the trunk, she closed her eyes and mentally prepared for the headache that was to come.