Screams… and beating drums. Loud and disorienting. Cassian jumped out of bed, scanned the dim room, and picked up his sword all in one quick motion.
There was a heavy knock on the door. This early in the day? When was that ever a good sign?
He edged towards the door—what was happening out there?
He unsheathed his sword—had they found him?—and gripped the iron knob. He turned it, slowly, then he opened it and charged.
He knocked the man to the ground before the intruder could even move.
"By Korvus, what are you doing, sir!"
The man he tackled squirmed under him like an animal caught in a trap. No structure to his motion, no sword in hand. He wasn't here to kill him.
"I apologize. I… thought you were someone else," Cassian said, standing up and offering the man a hand.
The man stared at his hand for a long moment before accepting it, pulling himself up and dusting off his clothes
"Why were you knocking?" Cassian asked.
"Ferendal. We wake everyone up for the festival very early. It's part of the tradition."
Ferendal? He'd never heard of it.
"I see. Thank you."
The man walked away, his pace slowly increasing as he got further from the door, almost breaking into a run down the hall. Cassian walked back in, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.
He didn't know anything about this festival. What was a while longer?
He locked the door behind him before falling back on the bed, sliding into the arms of sleep.
When he finally got up, the people outside were still screaming, with even more vigor now. The noise shook the floorboards.
"Do we really have to do this today?" Cassian asked Dea, rubbing his face.
"We plan on coercing the girl, so the earlier the better."
"We could just take her. By force."
"Fine way to start a strong first impression, but no," Dea responded. "And as much as I like this place, I don't think we should be here longer than necessary."
"Great. So convince the girl to run away with us, and then leave."
"That is a rather simplistic breakdown."
Cassian sighed as he walked out the door, pulling his cloak tightly around his shoulders.
"How are we even going to find her?"
"We look around, and hope for the best."
"And a festival is the best place for that?"
"More people out than on a regular day, so yes."
She was right, but considering his previous run-ins, hope was never a good strategy.
It was louder outside, suffocating and chaotic. So many people doing one too many things. It made his skin crawl: the noise, the people—the vulnerability. The terrifying idea that someone in this dense crowd could stab him and he wouldn't see them coming made him even more irritated.
He just wanted to get what he came for and leave. But finding someone in this river of hot bodies was like finding a needle in a haystack.
And he didn't even know what this mysterious person looked like. Dea said she would tell him when they met each other, that she would let him know. But something about her tone made Cassian doubt if she knew herself what this girl looked like.
He walked through the crowd, pushing his way past dancing people. Some of them were already drunk off cheap ale—what kind of festival was this? A man tried to advertise merchandise, thrusting a wooden trinket toward his chest. Cassian waved him off, as politely as his situation would allow, giving him a cold stare.
Why would someone, like himself, be here, in a place like this? He wanted to ask Dea, but he didn't want any more voices in his head right now.
He found his way to a shop. There weren't that many people inside, offering a rare moment of relief from the heat. He sat down at a quiet table; the heat of the sun, combined with the pressing crowd outside, was getting overwhelming.
"Happy Ferendal! Would you like anything to—?"
"No," he interrupted, not even glancing at the person talking. He needed to think. How was he supposed to find her with this many people to look from? It would take days, weeks, maybe even an eternity.
"Cassian," Dea whispered sharply in his mind. "It's her."
Cassian froze.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
He looked at the girl as she walked to another table. Her hair was brown like autumn bark, tied in a bun. She had blue eyes the shade of a clear sky, paired with caramel-colored skin. She had a smile painted on her face. One that never dropped, not even once as she cleared dishes from the wooden tables.
He raised his hand to get her attention. She turned and walked over, a serving tray held in hand.
"Yes, sir?"
"I've changed my mind. What do you have to drink?"
"Usually a lot," she responded, gesturing faintly toward the bar. "But on a day like this, just beer."
"No water?" Cassian asked.
She bent her head in a tiny bow and walked away toward the back room, returning a moment later with a wooden cup in hand.
"What is this festival about?" Cassian asked as he took the cup from her.
"What?"
"I asked what these people are celebrating." He looked up now, straight into her eyes.
" Ferendal. It's the local tongue for dawn of iron."
"The beginning of the holy war of liberation. This day, some years back. According to history, the saints started their march to rid the world of demon spawns"
"Don't you believe in the saints?"
"What?"
"I'm just curious as to why you're not celebrating with the rest of them."
"Well, I have to work."
"I see. It was nice meeting you, Miss…"
"A-Amy," she stuttered, stepping back slightly.
She looked flustered, like she didn't know how to react. Like people never asked for her name or paid her any mind.
What could she possibly have that could help him? Dea said he needed allies because they would help him, but looking at her, how could she help him?
"Cassian," he said, locking eyes with her. "And I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again very soon."