"Emperor," the cloaked man spoke softly, "I can confirm all that we discussed. The stench of demon holds Reauford's former glory hostage. I tracked them through Hellmarch, and whatever they dragged with them."
"Damn it. So our fears were woven in truth… I will do what I can. Thank you, Xel. Return to Mysanheim, and I will meet you. Hopefully with the backing of our arrogant peers."
His voice cut through the illusion Xel had cast, sharp as reality. "Are you well? You mentioned you entered Hellmarch… that is no easy task. No human has entered since the pact."
Xel grinned mischievously. "Bloody perfect if you ask me."
"And what does that mean, Xel?" Theronia's eyes pointed, and a sigh escaped his lips. "Please tell me you took such matters seriously."
Xel didn't meet his gaze. "I did, have no worries. I just… added a little spiff. Passed a fortress of the damned things, so I gave 'em a little fireball-hail. All an illusion—but they squealed like pigs."
"Good gracious, Xel. Return to Mysanheim now," Theronia said sharply, lowering his head.
Xel's grin disappeared instantly. "Understood."
With that, the illusion disappeared before the Summoner in a combust of tiny sparkles. He turned once more—his hooded cloak masking his face—as he peered into the horizon. In the distance, the Jatharsis Range loomed, masking the intentions of the chaos opposite to them. Xel drew a heavy breath, before calling upon his steed with a snap.
A dark, unarmored horse appeared from the air, neighing and snarling in sass. Xel patted its back thrice, before stroking its mane.
"Alright, Nightreign Bill. Let us ride to Mysanheim—matter of fact… let's stop at Chesamere first. A Chesameren goldloaf sounds pleasant right now. With haste!"
The horse shook its head once, as Xel hopped on its back. Above, a beautiful sky lit the plains of the eastern Human Realms. Light lit every inch of the grass, giving life and joy to all who passed under its glow.
An hour had passed, and Xel now rode his steed through the rolling hills of Chesamere, with a half-eaten goldloaf in hand. His hood was now down, revealing long, dark strands wrestled into a messy man bun, and his silver eyes focused on the bread within his grasp. A faint scar cut across his right cheek, an inch below his eye, and a mischievous grin overcame his lips as he dug into the remainder of the loaf.
Nightreign Bill had no reins, and it galloped on its own accord. Xel gave no instruction, because it already knew.
"I really need to get better with timing…" he muttered quietly to himself. "We may make Whitebloom by nightfall, but I'd love to see the Snowfleur Gardens during sunset."
He scowled playfully at the last bite in his hand. "And it's your fault, you delicious thing."
He threw it into his mouth, finishing it off. The clatter of hooves echoed across the faded dirt path they followed, and the setting sun cast dim shadows across Chesamere. Xel observed with a tiny smile.
"Halt," he said in nothing more than a whisper. His horse slowed instantly, as Xel took a moment to truly take the sight in.
"Don't get views like this much in Mysanheim, do we Nightreign?" he asked calmly. "At least, real ones."
The horse neighed, before shaking its head slowly—like it truly understood his every word.
His cloak fluttered in the cool breeze, and his gaze tightened upon the palette within the sky.
"Huh… purple. Never seen it within a sunset. I'll have to add that to the arsenal, eh Bill?"
He tapped the horse gently twice on its neck, and the horse bolted forward, following the road back to Mysandor's lands with haste.
Hours passed, and Xel finally arrived in Whitebloom. He was welcomed with excitement, and great hospitality. Citizens flooded around his horse, eager to get a glance at their dear Summoner.
"It's Xel! Of Mysandor!" one woman said, a faint blush forming on her cheeks.
"Ma! He's nineteen! Nearly half your age!"
The woman hushed her child, before shooing her away. Xel rode forward, hopping off his horse, who disappeared into an explosion of sparkles. Citizens clapped and cheered in surprise.
"Well wishes, my dear people of Whitebloom! I come to check in, and ensure your safety!"
He smiled widely, which encapsulated the hearts of those within proximity.
"A bit of deception, huh Xel? Now where would you learn a skill like that…" a voice spoke to him in a playful manner.
"Whatever could you mean, my goddess?" he replied, fanning innocence. She chuckled lightly.
"While I do not doubt your intentions for your peoples' safety, let us be honest with ourselves… Kirabel lives in Whitebloom, does she not?"
Xel closed his eyes lightly, trying to mask a smile.
"Nothing gets past you, does it Asypholaun?"
"My dear boy… that is my existence. I know you better than you know yourself. I chose you."
A light laugh, before Xel scanned the crowd. The woman he searched for was not in sight.
"Excuse me, citizens of Whitebloom. I'll be only a minute."
He walked forward in slight urgency, spotting a two storied tavern surrounded by picked flowers of Snowfleur Gardens—beautiful variations of colors that existed. Blue, white, purple and many more.
He pushed the tavern door open quickly, the voices' of a bard and rowdy drunkards meeting him dead on.
His eyes flicked toward the back corner, where a beautiful young woman sat with a book on her lap. A pair of round glasses sat in front of vibrant blue eyes. Her midnight hair was wrapped into a ponytail that rested against the back of the chair with grace. Xel smiled, before stepping forward.
He pulled a second chair up to the isolated table, drawing her attention upward. He gave an exaggerative wave, before she shook her head and returned to her novel.
"Good afternoon, my lady," he said. "I was passing through, and figured I should pay you a visit."
"Im honored our dear Summoner would think of me," she said sarcastically, keeping her focus on the page. "It's too bad he doesn't play serious for a woman."
Xel clutched his chest, and tilted his head. "You wound me, Kirabel."
"As I tend to do, Xel. Now, I'm sure another lovely lady would love to entertain you… and I am busy."
Xel sank into his chair comfortably, peering into her eyes with his own of silver. "Other ladies don't concern me, madam."
Kirabel's eyes widened only a moment, before she raised the book to cover her face. "I—is that so?"
"Indeed. I wanted to stop by to check on you, but unfortunately I'm left with little time. I ride to Mysanheim."
She lowered her book to meet his gaze. For a moment, they didn't speak.
"But next time I pass through, I'd love to make time for some Whitebloom coffee with a little company."
"I'd have to think about it," she said softly, stroking a strand of loose hair.
"Good. A thought is all I need. Thank you, my lady. Best wishes."
With that he stood, pulling the chair back to the table he grabbed it from. He made his way to the door, giving one last wink to Kirabel, before exiting swiftly. She remained seated, fingers pressed lightly against the book she hadn't turned in minutes.
Outside, the crowd had scattered some, with townsfolk returning to their duties. Xel walked forward through the neatly structured city, tightly built, carrying a homestead warmth. Overhead, the sun shone down—one of the only cities in Mysandor to consistently get sunlight.
With a flick of his hand, Nightreign Bill reappeared from thin air. Xel hopped on his horse, and began to gallop through the narrow roads of Whitebloom.
Hours passed before Xel reached the center of Mysandor. Eldesaan lay thirty minutes to the west; Mysanheim, thirty to the north. A blizzard had since taken the place of the beaming sun, and the snow came down sideways from fierce wind. Ahead, Everwinter's Crown loomed with hundreds of towering peaks, standing powerful in the storm. Near the center, hidden high within the range, the warm glow of lanterns gave brave souls a waypoint to Mysandor's capital city.
Xel patted Nightreign Bill twice on the mane, and the horse skidded to a stop. Xel took a moment to breathe in the cold air and admire Mysanheim.
"Home sweet home," he whispered to himself with a faint smile.