Pearl Egrets. Brilliant, alabaster, long-limbed birds.
Every migration season, one defiant flock of the majestic creatures undertake an epic journey to escape the harsh winter season. Their powerful beating wings slice through the skies, escaping winter’s icy breath and taking them across vast, treacherous distances. It’s a demanding voyage and one that often proves too taxing for even the boldest egrets.
Though it is the final obstacle that most threatens the flock’s success- a wall of towering green mountains, giants crowned in clouds who sneer down at all, haughtily. Undeterred, the pearl egrets call upon the wisdom of countless migrations. The strongest take the lead, carving paths through the turbulence, their wake a silent highway of buoyant air for the flock to follow.
Finally, upon cresting the arrogant mountain, the egrets’ pilgrimage reaches its end. A fiery sky rises to sit atop a bustling ocean, a sight awarded to the flock once more. The egrets will linger here a while, singing triumphant cries, honks and coos as they fill themselves to the brim with shrimp and bask in the warm sun’s caress.
Not far from the pearl egrets’ seasonal paradise, sits a Queendom thriving in golden splendor, as though kissed by the very sun herself. Within its walls, the sounds of waking life stirs. Artisanal bakers, ever the first to rise, knead malleable dough and fill the air with the delicious aroma of baking breads and lavish pies. The smithy’s forge grumbles and growls, like a waking metal beast, it prepares for a long day of shaping metal. Morning’s fanfare next heralds the Royal Guard, their boots marching in absolute cadence as sunlight splinters through their sharpened spears.
Yet, amidst this grand tapestry of lives intertwined, it is one story beating within the Queendom’s heart that takes center stage this day and it starts with a knock at a door.
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Knock, knock
Knock
“Yes, I’m coming! A minute more, if I might ask?” A hurried voice, laced with a hint of panic, echoed from within.
Behind the thick, iron-framed door came the unmistakable sound of scrolls crunching and rolling haphazardly. Outside the tall portal stood a Knight, adorned in regal, plated armor. His posture was statuesque, and had one with poor eyes gazed upon the scene, might find the Knight a misplaced decoration.
“Apologies!” the muffled voice called out again, quieted by the solid barrier.
The heavy door creaked and moaned like a tortured tree as it pulled open. Flashes of dawn’s light pierced from the gap, setting the Knight’s armor ablaze in golden brilliance. The Knight, standing in the doorway, offered a warm smile.
”Good morning, Tibolt.”
Tibolt, his initial flustered tone now replaced by a mix of surprise and suspicion, “Oh… Gregor. They sent you?”
“They did. May I enter?” Gregor inquired politely..
Tibolt turned away from the door and retreated into the modest sized room. Without looking back, he scoffed, “You are a Knight of the Mother, Gregor. You may go as you please. To the hells were any sire or dam to stand in your way.”
Gregor unfastened his helmet- his ears twitched as the steel rose past them. Still wearing a smile, Gregor’s handsome blue-furred face remained on Tibolt for a moment before he finally stepped through the threshold.
“How I will miss your sharp tongue, friend,” he said.