"No way. You seriously think I'd wear that?" Tezeri's disgust for the dress was palpable. Shiloh and Ethria were exhausted from the diva behavior that had awakened in Tezeri during the dress shopping ordeal—26 dresses and none were satisfactory—they were surely on the verge of giving up. However, a glimmer of hope appeared as the shopkeeper rolled out a magnificent dress, as pink and puffy as a hydrangea. Tezeri's eyes were immediately drawn to it, but she wasn't the only one.
"Oh my Aura, Ethria, I was wrong about you." A mocking chuckle could be heard from behind them, revealing Datrie and her two minions standing near the shop entrance with sly smirks. “Going dress shopping with a peasant? How charitable.”
Datrie, with her long fiery hair and eyes as icy as her heart, dressed in an expensive apricot-colored dress. Flaunting her noble status and exceptional fashion sense even Ethria couldn't deny.
The two twins Alissna and Anoah, her lessers, stood glued to her side. Their curly blonde hair spiraled every which way and their smile resembled that of a grinning frog. Their large round eyes stitched themselves to Datrie, patiently waiting for their command. The loyal twins had been under Datrie’s wing for a very long time. Admiring her like a peasant admired a golden coin.
Datrie had always butted heads with Ethria. Since the moment they met at the first royal ball. Ethria’s unconventional ways had made Datrie declare her as unfit for royalty. Her strict beliefs collided with Ethria’s fluid ones, marking them as enemies then on.
Murmurs circulated in the store; Datrie often tested Ethria's status subtly, making it challenging to take matters to the authorities without the princess being labeled a savage brute.
Tezeri, angered by Datrie's comment, stood up forcefully, ready to confront her enemies. Shiloh, noticing this, placed a firm hand on Tezeri's arm, signaling her not to escalate the situation, no matter how much she had secretly wanted her to.
Datrie's smile widened as she walked towards the pink dress, giving the trio a condescending look. She took out her money pouch, demanding the shopkeeper to reserve the dress for her. Witnessing this angered the trio even more, and Ethria had no choice but to play her little game.
"Excuse me, you aren’t planning to buy that without trying it on, are you?" Ethria questioned, observing the dress.
"In fact, I am. If I don’t like it, it won't matter. I'll just buy another!" Datrie bragged, subtly flashing her wealth.
Ethria chuckled, catching the attention of Datrie and her two stooges. "May I tell you that your waist looks way too large for such a cinched dress?" Ethria added, holding the dress to Datrie’s waist. Emphasizing the size mismatch.
The murmurs in the store turned into quiet chuckles as they focused on Datrie. Her face turned red as she looked around, everyone secretly judging her. Even the twins were flustered, making minimal eye contact with Datrie. Tezeri smiled, but Shiloh was not amused, silently observing her own wide frame. Seeing this, Ethria stopped her plotting and snickering. She took the dress from Datrie's stiff hands and handed it to Tezeri with a warm smile.
"My friend here needs a dress for the royal ball, and this one will do perfectly!" Ethria declared, giving Datrie a side eye. “Maybe you’ll find something in a different store, Datrie.”
Datrie scoffed at the news, signaling her minions to leave the store. She gave one final vengeful look at Ethria before disappearing into the crowd outside.
Ethria motioned for Tezeri to try on the dress. Tezeri happily obliged and made her way towards the fitting booths. Small glances were exchanged between Shiloh and Ethria, but barely any words were said. It made the room feel incredibly stuffy, the awkward pauses making Ethria’s stomach upset. She couldn't take it anymore, and attempted to turn the mood around.
"Are you buying one for the ball too? I saw a few that would suit you well," Ethria muttered, forcing a smile.
"I think I'll just wear my old one from last year," Shiloh replied, her nervous and closed-off body language revealing more than words could convey.
Ethria started to apologize, but it was interrupted when Tezeri came out, looking unrecognizable. Shiloh used this as a way out of the conversation, hurriedly scooting towards Tezeri’s side to compliment her. Ethria stayed back, giving her elegant-looking friend a smile and a thumbs up. Tezeri declared that this was the dress she’d wear to the ball, relieving Ethria and Shiloh, but for different reasons.
"So, we have a dress for Ethria, and finally a dress for me. Where’s yours, Shiloh?" Tezeri questioned, oblivious to the built up tension in the air. Tezeri looked back and forth between her two friends waiting for an answer.
Shiloh gave Tezeri a smile, mentioning that she’d wear her old dress as it held good memories. Tezeri thought nothing of it, as she had worn the same dress four years in a row already. Tezeri nodded, excitedly making her way towards the front counter. Ethria followed, bringing along her lacey and ethereal periwinkle-colored dress. It was very classy, with a slim make. If Ethria were a fairy, that’s what she’d wear every day for the rest of her life. Tezeri thanked Ethria profusely for buying her a dress. She almost teared up, but Tezeri would never admit that in a million moons.
After the long and exhaustive dress shopping, Ethria found herself craving some yummy and sweet blancmange. Successfully, she convinced her friends to join her across the road for the desired treat.
The clinking of utensils on plates filled the air and the soft banter of those around set the warm atmosphere. Tezeri's eyes sparkled with every bite of the delicious dessert, Shiloh sat mentally absorbed in one of her books, and Ethria gazed out of the large window onto the busy path.
The urban center displayed large, lively buildings, each with its unique charm. Townspeople, mainly aristocrats and merchants, strolled along the neat stone road, heading to their respective places. The scenery was captivating, making Ethria wonder what lives those many strangers lived. Suddenly, Tezeri tapped Ethria's arm, interrupting her thought.
"Hey, why aren’t you finishing the rest of your food?" Tezeri questioned, her mouth full.
"I've been having these dreams lately. You might think I’d sound crazy, though," Ethria admitted, unsure of how her words would be received.
Tezeri nodded her head in a sarcastic manner but encouraged Ethria to share her concerns. Shiloh, giving Ethria an inquisitive look, set aside her book to pay close attention. Ethria’s eyes lowered, and she leaned in close to her friends as she opened her mouth to speak.
"They're about Lisav. He’s been appearing in my dreams, along with this king. Every night, they fight the same battle. I can hear the war so vividly, the cries of those men, the sounds a tearing flesh. It’s the most awful moment of the dream. Soon after though, the king wins, knocking Lisav to the ground. But just before Lisav’s defeated, he says something," Ethria whispered slightly trailing off. She made a point to be hush about the mention of Lisav. Speaking his name is heavily frowned upon in most parts of Astoria.
Both friends stared at her in shock, registering her words. Shiloh held her book tightly to her chest as she spoke. "He says he’ll be back in 200 years, right?" Shiloh questioned, a stern expression on her face.
Shiloh still held onto the history of Astoria, gradually revealing her intrigue in the old tales. Her father, a knowledgeable historian, had instilled this natural curiosity in her. Ethria became uneasy at the fact that Shiloh was aware of the details in her dreams. Ethria nodded, confirming Shiloh’s suspicions.
"The king you're referring to, his name was Sajorn Dalva II, more commonly known as The Old King of Crone. He had a deeper connection with the aura crystal itself. Some even believed it meant he was chosen. The crystal selects its vessel—the person meant to protect it. When the protector passes, a new one is born. The identity of the chosen one remains unknown until birth, but they must possess something special to be chosen," Shiloh explained, leaning in closer. Shiloh’s face was solemn, eyebrows furrowed, and her typically piercing white irises seemed darker.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Tezeri and Ethria exchanged skeptical glances at each other before refocusing on Shiloh. The two girls never really believed too much about the old legend. Writing it off as a kid’s bedtime story.
"How does one know if they are chosen? The crystal talks with them or something?" Tezeri inquired, leaning back.
"Well, I can't say for certain. There's no record of it, based on my knowledge. All I know is that when the protector is needed, they will comprehend their purpose." Shiloh took a sip of her tea. "Talking about this is a bit eerie, considering it happened 199 years ago today. Not many believe Lisav will return, but I guess we'll find out in a year, won’t we?" Shiloh jokes, but a hint of uncertainty in her voice made it apparent she was not at ease.
"What happened to the king after the battle?" Ethria asked with curiosity, focusing intently on Shiloh’s face. Ethria’s stare was so intense that Shiloh had thought she’d pry her way through her thoughts.
"He fell into a deep sleep, and never woke up," Shiloh shook her head, a sad expression on her face.
Despite the chattering around them, the room felt as if it went completely mute. The group’s eyes drifted off into different directions as they silently pondered their conversation. A knock at the window interrupted the silence. It was a man with a rough and dirty appearance looking straight at Tezeri. Ethria fixed her cloak to avoid drawing unnecessary attention towards herself. Tezeri, surprised, took her dress and stood up once she recognized that it was one of her dad’s friends.
"My old man must need me. Guess he knew I'd be around here. Hey, thanks for the trip. Don’t think so much about those dreams you've had; they could just be that. Dreams." Tezeri gave a quick wave before leaving with the man.
"I'll take my leave too. Mother will be starting her gardening soon, and I'd like to lend a hand," Shiloh announced, rising gracefully and gathering her belongings. "And those dreams might not be mere coincidence, especially considering the circumstances. Please take care of yourself, Ethria."
As Shiloh made her way out of the door, Ethria sat in deep thought, feeling a bit worse with her friend’s conflicting advice. Lost in her cloudy thoughts, Ethria left the shop, unexpectedly bumping into a tall, human man holding a heavy bucket of meat. His swift reflexes take control, avoiding a messy impact. Unfortunately, the bucket of grounded meat had spilled onto the clawed feet of a passing pherian merchant. Ethria let out a yelp, catching the attention of some people around.
"Excuse me" the man said, dismissing himself.
"Excuse me? That’s all you’ll say after spilling shit on me?" The merchant raised his voice to the man, grabbing his arm rather tightly.
The worker said nothing. Clad in a thin and old brown tunic tucked into a pair of black pants, his basalt-colored eyes narrowed slightly, his expression quite blank. His short unruly hair resembled the feathers of a ruffled crow. Making quite the contrast against his pale skin.
"State your name, boy!" The merchant ordered, growing angrier. Making his cobalt blue scales raise faintly and his lizard-like face crinkle dramatically. The rough plates lining his long snout folding due to the expression. Despite the showy and extravagant appearance of a pherian that makes them attractive merchants, they are widely known for their slinky nature. Their footsteps are as nimble as a mouse, and bite as sharp as an alligator. Making them tricky opponents to deal with.
Silently, the man delved into his back pocket, retrieving an opulent white handkerchief. With a polite gesture, he offered it to the merchant. However the merchant was unimpressed, and harshly tossed it to the floor. Ethria was getting annoyed by the merchant’s behavior but she silently stayed back, scared to put herself directly in front of the merchant’s wrath. Tension in the air heightened as the merchant, dissatisfied, intruded the man’s personal space.
Before the situation could escalate into violence, the light clicking of horse hooves made their way towards them. Unbeknown to them, the guard was oblivious to the disturbance unfolding in the street. As the three sensed the presence of authority, the worker swiftly turned on his heels, moving in the opposite direction as if driven by a sudden sense of urgency.
As the worker left, the pherian turned around, muttering harsh human derogatories under his breath as he shook the residue off of his feet. Ethria felt indebted to the man for taking the heat for her. Feeling guilty, she quickly retrieved the discarded handkerchief in hopes of giving it back to him. Despite her attempts to brush off the debris, it had stained, and the mysterious man had disappeared without a trace.
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The sturdy tavern keeper casually tossed the pouch of coins onto the table. "There's your share—spend it wisely, you hear?" He chuckled heartily, polishing some plates. "I've noticed you taking on all sorts of odd jobs in the area lately. What's a lad like you saving up for?"
The tavern was dimly lit by flickering candles, with worn wooden tables and chairs providing a humble atmosphere. The air smelled of wheat and citrus throughout the tavern. A few half-empty bottles and dirty plates rested lazily on vacant tables scattered throughout the room. The tavern attracted a diverse crowd—working men and women seeking rest from their troubles, mercenaries toasting to their triumphs, and passing adventures seeking temporary shelter. The room echoed with the clashing of wooden tankards filled with beer, and lively chatter livened the space.
The worker opened the pouch, counting the coins carefully. "Saving up for a long journey," he replied, not breaking his concentration.
Behind the bar, the tavern keeper observed him, seemingly anticipating more details. The worker sensed this and paused before changing the subject.
"How does one reach the heart of Astoria?" he asked, exchanging a coin with the tavern keeper for a drink.
The tavern keeper appeared confused by the sudden inquiry but accepted the coin, preparing the worker's drink.
"You can't just travel to the heart. It's guarded by borders. To pass through, you'll need written permission from a king, and even that's not guaranteed.”
“That will take too long, I need to be heading there by next week.” The worker scowled, a slight annoyance could be heard in his voice.
The keeper cautioned, narrowing his eyes. "What business takes you there? We don't often get men seeking directions to the Aura Crystal. It’s too dangerous right now."
A significant pause lingered between the two men. Suddenly, a large tankard slammed onto the table, beer splattering on the weathered wooden surface. An espit man had arrived, wearing leather armor with a small but mighty sword holstered on his side. His short furred outer skin displayed a dark olive hue, while the inner revealed a lighter tan. Ram-like horns adorned his head, and his lopped ears twitched curiously. A wild, dark, curly mane connected at the top of his head. Espits, though nimble and short in stature, should never be underestimated, for their strength is said to rival that of a million men.
"The Aura Crystal is a strong and mysterious entity. Holding the most powerful demon in existence. I do believe Lisav will come back, mark my words. But don't you worry, my men are primed to chop that demon bastard’s head right off!” The armored man slurred his words confidently. “What's your name, son?”
“I go by Jericho, and I've got to say, you might not know what you're talking about,” Jericho stated, grabbing his freshly made drink from the tavern keeper. “Lisav is immortal; he's not one to meet his end.”
“Immortal my ass, they just haven't found a way to finish him yet. But I, the powerful Golo, will have his head put on a stake! That is a promise,” Golo chuckled deeply, sharing laughs with the tavern keeper. Jericho, however, wasn't amused, taking a sip of his drink. Golo noticed this and placed a firm hand on Jericho's back, wrinkling his brown tunic.
“Listen, son, need some coin? I've got a job for you.” Golo handed Jericho a folded piece of paper. “Deliver this personally to the Prince of Terria, and I'll reward you 500 gold.”
Jericho's eyes brightened a bit at the offer. He took the note but was stopped by Golo when he tried to open it.
“Private information, son. It’s really important that you get this to him on time. I’d do it myself but I’ll be preparing for an expedition,” Golo cautioned, taking a chug of his drink. “The Prince's name is Noell, he'll be at the royal ball this Saturday. Report back here to me the day after. You’ve got two days to prepare. ”
“How do I get in?” Jericho asked, putting the note in his pocket.
Golo and the keeper exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. Confused, Jericho scratched the back of his head, ruffling his black hair.
“Getting into the ball is reserved for rich snobs or the invited,” the tavern keeper teased, refilling Jericho's tankard. “Since you're neither, I suggest you find a way, and quick.”
Jericho, unfazed by the banter, assured them that the note would reach its destination. With a casual sip of his drink, he settled down in the tavern for the rest of the night.