"Congratulations Princess Ren, honestly, the passage of time fails to leave its mark on you, year after year." a noble bowed humbly, a sly smile decorating his face.
He was wearing a luxurious suit, flaunting his wealth with accessories made of gold.
Rings adorned each of his fingers.
His looks weren't half bad, but he paled in comparison to the person everything had been revolving around the last few weeks, the source of many people's admiration and envy alike… Princess Ren.
Her black bejewelled gown reached to the floor of the venue, her braided hair resembling a crown.
Ren's smile stole hearts on the regular, today was no exception.
Her fingertip rested just above her lip, putting her orange nails into view.
She chuckled at the nobleman's comment, her lips parted to give way to a voice as sweet as honey, "Thank you for your kind words, Lord Kirst. It's a pleasure to have you attending my birthday."
The noble shook his head, "The pleasure is all mine, Princess." then he extended a hand, "Would you care for a dance?"
His eyes wandered past the crowd all around them, to the space reserved as a dancefloor.
The musicians near the centre of the grand hall were playing soft tunes, allowing for some background entertainment, but ensuring that conversations were possible.
After all, this gathering was reserved for the rich and powerful, the high and mighty.
While common banter wasn't odd, events like this usually spurred on the flow of money.
Goods, promises, people.
The legal and the illegal had a full night's time to advertise and sell itself.
But before Ren could answer the man, someone bumped into him, almost launching him into the princess!
With a graceful step to the side, she evaded the noble, and his drink that was inevitably spilled.
His face flushed red, he pushed himself off the ground, and faced the perpetrator, 'Who the fu-' his mind raced in anger, but all colour drained from him soon after.
He gulped, adjusted his necktie, "Prince Arlin!" he lowered himself as he spoke that name.
Most, if not all nobility within the capital was present here, of course that would include the princes and princesses, since there was no better time to make allies than this.
The people next to them made way, they knew that speaking this name carelessly only ever invited trouble upon oneself.
"Ah, Lord Kirst, do excuse me, I failed to see you there." Prince Arlin spoke, but there was no shred of apology in his tone.
The prince wore a tailormade suit, fitting his frame perfectly, of course, such were the boons of royalty.
A little insignia was sewed near the collar, the tailor's calling card.
While it is merely a small detail to some, to the creator of this fabric it was a sign, not only to himself, but to his customers as well, that a prince felt comfortable wearing his work in high-stake environments.
There were hardly any greater achievements for an artisan.
Lord Kirst had no choice but to accept this half-assed apology, for his own sake.
He opened his smiling mouth and rubbed his hands, preparing to butter up the prince, "All is-"
"But could you kindly make room?" Prince Arlin continued, talking over the noble, "I have an urgent matter to discuss with my darling sister."
There was an absurd lack of urgency in Arlin's voice, but who was he to challenge a prince's authority?
Lord Kirst bowed once more, "Of course, of course. I shall leave you to it."
He showed a subservient smirk, as he slowly distanced himself from the troublemaker.
Lord Kirst knew, it was better to leave this event slightly embarrassed, than to find himself dead in an alley while on the way home.
As the guests around them caught on, and similarly gave them space, Ren's perfect smile cracked, showing glimpses of what hid underneath, "Thanks."
"Hoh? What for?" Arlin grinned at her.
"You know damn well what for." she snickered, for once her irritation wasn't directed at her brother.
Ren covered her mouth with her hand, "It's always the bottom feeders that try to put themselves in the limelight on occasions like these."
Arlin nudged her, "Come on, surely he is not that bad when you get to know him."
The princess sneered, "Human trafficking, extortion and bribery aren't my favourite traits when it comes to people."
She removed her hand, "And I am not that starved for support." her gaze directed at her fellow competitor for the crown.
Arlin shrugged, "To each their own. But if he really is as bad as you say, then surely the high court would do something about him, right?" he smirked while Ren just rolled her eyes.
Both of them knew just how deeply corrupted such a system was.
In the meantime, a guard made his way to the musicians, he whispered into the ear of one of the performers, then the others turned his way.
Suddenly, the music stopped, the chatter quieted.
The attendees looked around the hall, intrigued by the abrupt pause.
"Hm? Is the show starting?" Arlin turned to his sister, as an organizer, she would know best, but her puzzled expression threw him off…
She tapped her temple, trying to remember, but nothing came up, "We didn't book any shows this year…"
Guards flooded the stage at the end of the hall, while Princess Ren and her brother made their way through the waves of humans.
"What is going on here?" Ren shouted up at the many soldiers on stage, then her gaze turned unkind, as she tried to spot any of the other organizers among the crowds.
"Hear ye! Hear ye! Now entering, His Majesty, the king!" someone hidden behind the grandeur of the guards called out.
All eyes focused on the curtain at the end of the stage.
The guards fanned out, they moved to the sides, opening a path, allowing the guests a better view.
An older man stepped through the curtain.
No one stood ready to raise it; this appearance seemed to be unannounced!
The people present bowed their heads at the man's arrival.
A crown on his head, and a neat gown that didn't quite match the glory that accompanied his name…
"His Royal Highness Lysander Van Tale." a person on stage humbly introduced.
Behind the king were two servants, shaking under the weight of the large object they were carrying.
"Father?" Ren blurted out in confusion.
Lysander nodded at his daughter, then turned to address everyone, "Another year passes, as my children grow older, grow stronger, soon to replace this old man before you."
Gasps echoed through the hall.
"I take great pride, and confidence, in that all of you gathered here today, are working towards the betterment of Astafor and the betterment of humanity. No matter if you are an observer or actively involved in the succession process."
"You are the pillars, upon which the royal family builds its legacy, now, as it has since our inception. Your support is invaluable to us, and I wish to make my appreciation known."
"But enough of this old man's ramblings. Like you all, I have come to celebrate the wellbeing of one of Astafor's greatest and kindest minds."
"My daughter Ren." Lysander looked at her, "Won't you come up here, and receive your birthday present?"
Ren's heartbeat heightened, and not in a good way…
She swallowed her nervosity and walked up the stage, eyeing the large object the servants set down.
It was covered by a cloth, hiding what was underneath, but the servants' uneasy faces gave her an idea.
King Lysander grabbed the rag and pulled.
There was a heavy tension in the air, the guests all made their guesses as to what would be unveiled.
Everyone held their breaths in anticipation.
A present from the king himself, no way would he gift his eldest daughter anything cheap!
The cloth fell to the ground, the people's eyes widened, then their knees bent from a formless pressure!
The king revealed an antique looking canvas frame, that held a painting of a desolate landscape.
The piece seemed to revolve around the dried peach tree at its centre, that was surrounded by a pool of red.
Fruitless branches moved ever so slightly.
Blood from the small lake trickled upwards endlessly, rising out of view.
Beyond the tree was a graveyard of swords, some planted into the ground, others broken apart.
Off towards the horizon was a massive mountain, split cleanly in two.
Anyone below rank three was forced to kneel, or worse, as they were unable to withstand the aura the canvas gave off!
Princess Ren was hit by the full force of it, being as close to it as she was, but unlike the guards that came to protect His Majesty, and the servants, she managed to stay on her feet, albeit clenching her teeth from the heavy weight that pressed down on her.
Lysander observed his daughter, then swept his gaze through the crowd, identifying each of his children, ascertaining their reaction to the unveiled artefact.
There were several Marquises in attendance, but other than them, only Ren, Prince Arlin, Prince Dalton, and two other candidates for the throne managed to stand their ground.
"Allow me to congratulate you once more, dearest Ren." Lysander spoke nonchalantly, as though no one had told him that an overbearing aura was supposed to affect him.
Then his expressions hardened as he addressed the room, "And to all my successors that failed to withstand this… You are unqualified to continue vying for the throne. Consider yourselves eliminated."
… …
Frey was glued to the window of their carriage.
He remembered Aventia's mountainous border, but not the never-ending caravan that was currently moving across it.
The road from up here was a great vantage point to see much of Aventia's territory, especially the capital city, from a bird's eye view.
But unlike before, even from a distance, one could see that the surrounding areas were bustling with life.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Agnes squeezed next to him, pressing her finger against the glass for him to follow, "The city is currently under construction, they are working on another ring to hold even more citizens."
"I didn't know we had that kind of money. And where did all these people come from?" Frey leaned left and right, then noticed something else, "And what is that?"
Agnes chuckled, "Like I said, a lot has changed while you were gone. And that? That is one of the temporary camps set up by the king's army."
Frey raised an eyebrow, "King's army? Are we under siege?"
He felt that Agnes was way too calm for that to be the case, but what else would they be doing here?
"Would you believe me if I told you they are here to help us kill the Ironhoofs?" Agnes looked him in the eyes.
Her staring was somewhat unsettling, "They are?" he asked.
Agnes bobbed her head sideways, "Not exactly."
To which Frey rolled his eyes.
"What? I said, 'not exactly'." she shrugged her shoulders, "They're just… you know… there to convince them to surrender."
Frey frowned, "I think you are leaving out some really important bits."
"Well, where should I start…" Agnes rubbed her chin, then started recounting the events that transpired while Frey was trapped in the Sunless Mire.
His expressions kept changing, like he was hearing some ridiculous fairytale.
"So, to sum it up-" Frey held his forehead, "Master is now a rank three mage? And a Marquis? And being supported by the king to round up the Ironhoofs, after beating their family-head in battle?"
"And you also got to rank three? And now people are flocking to Aventia because they see potential in us? Is that right?"
Agnes nodded, "Yeah, I'd say those are the most important things that you missed."
She looked down at herself; the priests could neither heal nor identify her wounds.
Plamus' monstrous form came to her mind, "But I guess you had your own share of adventure that happened in the meantime."
Agnes went silent, she curled and uncurled her fingers several times, replaying the scene that was stuck in her head, "Frey… back in the swamp…"
She locked eyes with him, "That thing, you guys called it Plamus." she sighed, "It invaded my mind. I was losing, and honestly… I thought that was the end of me…"
"But then I heard your voice. I felt your hand, reaching out to me, guiding me back to where I needed to be."
She showed him one of the gaps on her palm, "Without you, things could have gone a lot worse."
Frey felt goosebumps on his skin, "I'm sorry, but I don't remember any of that."
"You don't?" Agnes recoiled, "But I am sure it was you."
Frey shook his head, averting her gaze, "I don't know… I don't know, Agnes. There are so many things that I don't understand."
"I- I think I almost died too, in the swamp. I got buried under rubble, and I… I had a strange… I'm not sure? Vision?"
Agnes nodded in understanding.
"I was in a weird place, like, a river, or something. Then I saw my mom." Frey continued.
"She was talking to me about something. I couldn't get what she was saying, and she wouldn't react to my questions."
Agnes looked at the boy with pity, he had grown older, but the scars on his heart never quite healed.
"She warned me Agnes! She warned me… and I don't even know about what."
Agnes reached out to his hand, holding it in hers, "Frey." she said solemnly, "The world of mages is dangerous, maybe she meant that. Do you feel like running away?"
Frey closed his eyes, "No." he exhaled his pent-up emotions, "No, I need to face this."
He nodded, solidifying his decision, "I will go back and see for myself... what happened to them."
Agnes pressed down on his hand, making sure he felt that he wasn't alone.
"Let's go see Cykrus first. He'll want to know that you are safe too. Then we can discuss the next steps."
Frey peered outside again, they had gotten much closer while they were absorbed in their conversation.
The gates of Aventia came into view, as did the long queue of carriages, horses, and pilgrims.
There was a knocking on the front of their cart, then a slidable rectangular peephole opened, "Sorry to interrupt, there is a long line ahead of us." the coachman spoke, "Would you like me to wait in line, or…?"
"Skip it." Agnes waved her hand.
"Yes ma'am." he closed the peephole, then the carriage continued moving.
The people they passed were displeased with getting overtaken, but their cart bore the crest of the royal family, only a fool would speak out of turn in its vicinity, much less try to stop them.
When the carriage stopped again, it was accompanied by a banging on the door.
"Please identify yourself and who you are transporting." a muffled voice came from outside.
Agnes opened the door and went down the steps.
Her white flowing hair was quickly caught by the wind and attracted the attention of everyone around.
The guards at the inspection needed but a moment to catch on, their eyes widened in surprise, "Lady Agnes!" the one in charge announced loudly while saluting.
"Are you injured? Should we fetch the church's people?" he lowered his head, then walked closer while staring at the wounds that definitely hadn't been there before she left.
Agnes shook her head, "Thank you for your concern, but no need."
The guard in charge nodded, "You need only say the word." he spun around, "Allow them passage!" and barked an order deeper into the patrol station.
Frey joined her, leaving the dim cart, and setting foot on the very familiar plot of earth.
The guard's eyes then sprang open once more, saluting another time, "Young master Frey! It is my honour to welcome you back to Aventia!"
The people waiting in line blinked, Aventia's disciple had returned?
Did that mean the competition was over?
Few held in-depth information, such as the closing of the portal to the swamp plane, and even fewer had enough affinity for magic, to notice that Frey wasn't a rank one mage anymore.
"Lady Agnes, please allow some of my men to escort the two of you to the palace, it is rather crowded nowadays." the head of the guardsmen offered.
"Mhm." Agnes made an affirming motion, and the guard hurried to assemble a small troop.
Frey tugged on her sleeve, "Is that necessary?"
Agnes came closer to whisper in his ear, "No, you are plenty capable to protect yourself, but this isn't about that. This is a show of authority."
"We are important people here in Aventia, citizens look up to us, and the guards highly respect us. Don't mind it too much."
Frey raised his eyebrow at her, "Since when were you like this?"
"Like what?" she scoffed.
"You know…" he tiptoed around the answer.
"Knowledgeable? Considerate?" she pinched his ear.
Frey flinched, "Ow! Ow! Ouch!"
"Rude. But I get why you think that." she said, then let go, leaving Frey rubbing his earlobe.
"Despite how much I hate politics, I found that I need to know stuff like this, if I don't want to drag Cykrus down."
She stared off into empty air for a moment, "I guess we both grew a little."
Agnes and Frey walked side by side with the carriage, crossing through the giant gate of the city.
Beyond that gate was a wondrous sight, people as far as the eye could see, streets filled with carts, and a lone few patrolling soldiers sprinkled here and there.
But compared to them, there were far more people dressed in the colours of the church making their rounds.
Frey had never seen Aventia this full.
"The stables would be thataway. Tell them Cykrus Aventia sent you, we'll take care of the expenses." Agnes pointed the coachman in a direction.
The man lowered himself, "You're too kind, may we meet again." then spurred on the horse.
Frey turned to Agnes, "The guard remembered me."
His stupefied expression made her chuckle, "Of course he remembered you. You are Marquis Cykrus Aventia's one and only disciple after all. It hasn't settled in for you yet, but that is a huge deal, especially after the recent developments."
The crowd made way wherever the soldiers treaded, making it easy for Agnes and Frey to reach the palace without any issues.
Frey watched the people that passed them, curious eyes glanced their way, kind expressions, warm smiles, people even waved at him!
Surprised as he was, Frey's body reacted on his own, waving back at the folks.
He felt strange, there was a massive difference between his day-to-day life in the swamp, and what he was seeing here.
It seemed like yesterday, when he had to sleep with one eye open, ever vigilant, avoiding spaces that swarmed with humans, and now he was surrounded by them.
Butlers and maids were busy cleaning the yard of the palace, polishing the windows, hanging clothes to dry, tending to the greenery, while on the inside they watered plants, carried baskets of laundry, and dusted off the surfaces, paintings, statues, and so much more.
It was a busy day like any other, the lights burned, the aroma of dinner wafted in the air.
Agnes and Frey headed for the throne room and were greeted by a set of guards, "Lady Agnes! Are you injured?!"
"No, I'm fine." she waved them off, "Is Cykrus inside?"
"Yes. But My Lord has been working himself to the bone lately, he might not be in the best of moods." one of the guards warned.
"Thank you for the heads up. We'll proceed with caution." Agnes said seriously.