Cyrus stood amidst the sea of people moving up and down the bustling fairground. The sun hung high in the azure sky, its warmth beating down on the colorful array of stands and attractions. The air was thick with the scent of sugary treats and the excited chatter of the crowd. Everywhere he looked, the stands were full of people, their faces alight with wonder as they watched magicians perform their mesmerizing tricks.
Children darted between adults' legs, their laughter ringing out above the general hubbub. Couples strolled hand in hand, stealing affectionate glances at one another, while others simply relaxed on benches, taking in the lively atmosphere. Cyrus glanced at his watch, acutely aware of the passage of time. He was lightly dressed in casual trousers and a comfortable shirt, perfectly suited for the warm weather and the day's activities.
As he waited patiently, Cyrus couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Today, he had skipped his training session with Leora. He knew she would be furious, her piercing gaze and sharp words already playing out in his mind. But he couldn't have avoided this meeting, especially not after what he had done. The weight of his recent actions hung heavy on his conscience, a constant reminder of the complexities of his situation.
A rueful laugh escaped his lips as he pondered how foolish he had been. His thoughts jumped from topic to topic, a restless energy coursing through him. He found himself wondering what the Prophet was up to these days. Recently, the enigmatic figure had spent most of his time gazing at the stars, repeating the same cryptic advice over and over: "When opportunity strikes, it's not the one who saw it first who will benefit, but the one prepared for it. Train."
Cyrus understood the wisdom in the Prophet's words, but he couldn't shake the feeling of monotony that had begun to creep into his daily routine. All he seemed to do was train, and while he couldn't deny its importance, a part of him yearned for something more, something different.
His thoughts drifted to Lork, who had been conspicuously absent for quite some time. Normally, even during intense training periods, they would at least find time to chat. But recently, Lork had been unnaturally quiet, a fact that unsettled Cyrus more than he cared to admit. He made a mental note to investigate his friend's activities once this meeting was over.
As the minutes ticked by, Cyrus found his anticipation growing. Finally, the figure he had been waiting for arrived, and the sight of her took his breath away. Mariline approached with graceful steps, her short gown dancing elegantly around her legs as she walked. Her radiant smile, full of vitality and warmth, seemed to light up the entire fairground.
"A real delice to the eyes," Cyrus said by way of greeting, a genuine smile spreading across his face.
Mariline's eyes twinkled with mischief as she responded, "I know." She punctuated her words with a playful wink that sent Cyrus's heart racing. "So, what have you prepared for the day?" she asked, her voice lilting with curiosity.
Cyrus's eyes swept across the fairground, suddenly acutely aware of how little he knew about this place. How was he supposed to have prepared anything? "No idea," he admitted sheepishly. "You were the one who invited me. Weren't you supposed to prepare something?"
Mariline's response surprised him. "You do it," she said, pulling out a small map of the area and scanning it intently. "To the Lake or the stands?"
Cyrus couldn't help but laugh, intrigued by this unexpected side of her. At first glance, she hadn't struck him as someone who struggled with decision-making. Then again, he reminded himself, he wasn't a bite at first glance either. He shook his head, wondering if this was what the Prophet had been warning him about. It was indeed challenging to understand people's motives with just a cursory look.
"The lake then," he decided without much hesitation. The idea of standing in the middle of the crowded fairground made him uneasy. For someone who was supposed to stay hidden, it wasn't the wisest choice to be surrounded by so many prying eyes.
They made their way to the lake, which spanned several kilometers. As they walked, Cyrus observed the various boats gliding across the water's surface, many carrying couples holding hands and gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. The scene was idyllic, a perfect backdrop for romance and relaxation.
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Cyrus and Mariline found themselves on a bridge overlooking the lake, the gentle lapping of water against the shore providing a soothing soundtrack to their conversation. Mariline surprised him once again by pulling out several sheets of paper and an assortment of pencils from her bag. She settled onto a nearby bench, her posture radiating focus and determination.
"Like this?" Cyrus asked, striking a pose against the bridge's railing. Mariline responded with a thumbs up, her eyes already darting between him and her paper as she began to sketch.
What followed were quite possibly the longest two hours of Cyrus's life. He did his best to remain still, fighting against the urge to fidget or stretch as Mariline worked her magic on the paper. The sun continued its arc across the sky, and Cyrus found his mind wandering to thoughts of training, of Leora's likely anger, of the Prophet's warnings, and of the uncertain future that lay ahead.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Mariline announced that she was finished. Cyrus, his muscles stiff from holding his pose, eagerly moved to examine her work. As he held the portrait up to the light, his eyes widened in shock and amazement.
To say the drawing was identical to reality would have been an insult to Mariline's talent. The portrait looked alive, seeming to move and breathe just like anything living. "Amazing," Cyrus breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from the paper.
As he watched in awe, the birds captured in the portrait suddenly took flight, soaring off the page and into the clear blue sky. They spun in graceful arcs before disappearing into the ether, leaving Cyrus slack-jawed with wonder.
Seeing his reaction, Mariline was quick to reassure him. "Don't be scared," she said, her voice gentle. "I have a magical license. No one will attack you. I got my magical license long ago, but I haven't used magic in a long time."
Cyrus turned to observe the woman beside him, heaving a small sigh as he considered the implications of her words. In Arkania, magic usage was strictly regulated, with unlicensed use punishable by death. The casual way Mariline spoke of her abilities spoke volumes about her background and the privileges she must enjoy.
As he studied her, Cyrus couldn't help but marvel at the passion and love that seemed to radiate from her very being. She was brimming with self-confidence, a stark contrast to the indecisiveness she had displayed earlier. What exactly was her goal in all this? Surely, she must have realized by now that he wasn't the best candidate available for... whatever this was. With the Bureau on his tail and his mind constantly occupied with thoughts of survival and training, Cyrus knew he couldn't offer her the kind of stability or future she likely deserved.
Pushing aside his doubts, Cyrus decided to focus on the present moment. "What else do you want to do?" he asked, genuinely curious about her desires. "You can choose wherever you want, and I will follow."
Mariline's response caught him off guard once again. "You should do it for me," she said, her voice suddenly small and uncertain. "I can't choose, to be frank. I don't know how to." As she spoke, she lowered her head, her feet shuffling nervously against the wooden planks of the bridge.
Cyrus paused, struggling to comprehend her words. Unable to choose? It seemed absurd. "Everyone knows how to choose," he argued gently. "We always make choices every single day. When we choose the dress to wear, when we choose the job to do..."
Mariline stood up, moving to lean against the bridge railing. Her gaze was distant as she spoke, her voice tinged with a melancholy that tugged at Cyrus's heart. "I have a gown for every single day," she explained. "I don't need to worry about choosing anything. I always know everything to wear in advance. In Arkania, there is no concept such as choice. Everything is but a well-woven illusion, just like the clouds in the sky."
Cyrus's eyes fell on Mariline's figure as she basked in the warm sunlight. Her words had struck a chord deep within him, forcing him to confront questions he had long pushed aside. Was choice real, or merely an illusion? One could argue that the concept of free will was nonexistent in Arkania. Whether it was working in the mines, using magic, or even the right to live or die, so much seemed predetermined.
Up until now, the world had given Cyrus the illusion that he had chosen everything he did. But was it really his choice, or just another carefully constructed facade? It was a question too complicated to answer in the moment, but one that would undoubtedly haunt his thoughts for days to come.
"I don't totally agree," Cyrus said slowly, choosing his words with care. "We might not fully control our choices in the grand scheme of life, but at our earthly level, we do. No matter how minuscule it is, we still have some agency."
Mariline's eyes lifted for a second, a flicker of hope visible in their depths before she shook her head. "Sorry," she murmured. "I didn't want to spoil the day." There was a pause, heavy with unspoken emotions, before she continued. "I know you're already too deep into her, but... we can at least be friends, right?" Her eyes were expectant, vulnerable in a way that made Cyrus's heart ache.
"Of course," Cyrus nodded, his gaze unfocused as he grappled with the weight of their conversation. He was still lost in thought when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head slightly, he saw several figures approaching from both sides of the bridge, their purposeful strides setting off alarm bells in his mind.
As the figures drew closer, Cyrus felt his muscles tense, readying himself for whatever might come next.