I

“How do I look?” Yoreno asked as he stepped out of his chambers. He glanced down nervously.

Celine looked at him. “You look wonderful, Yoreno.”

Cassandra smiled. Mother was wearing a white dress of a simple cut that went down to bellow her ankles just shy of dragging across the floor. At her waist she wore a thick blue sash. “You can trust your sister on this matter. You look dashing, my son.”

“Are you certain? I don’t look like a fop, do I?”

“Heavens no,” Celine said. Her dress was much the same as mothers, but instead of in white, she wore a pale pink. Her blonde hair had been curled and tied in a high coif atop her head with blue and gold ribbons. “You really should stop worrying.”

He turned, glancing in the body-length mirror in the foyer. He wore a tight pure white tunic with puffed arms and on his legs were white stockings. His armor consisted of a burnished steel chest plate with top of the shoulder pauldrons that jutted out past his arms. His leather boots were new and somewhat stiff, but mostly comfortable and there was a shin guard going up to above his knee.

Glancing in the mirror, his mother and sister regarded him, but it was difficult to see their facial expressions since they were partially silhouetted from the setting sun which made the skies red and blue.

In truth, the festivities hadn’t even begin, and yet the Aevalin was alight with activity. There were giant statues of wood and stone that had been erected and wheeled out onto the streets. Every house seemed to have a stall open selling pastries or little games for the common folk to enjoy.

Lanterns had been set out everywhere and people were already out and about celebrating and carousing. Small patrols of guards walked the streets to make sure the peace was always kept.

In it all, Aevalin castle was the brightest. Every single window seemed to be alight and the pinions that normally flew had been raised higher and doubled in their usual number.

“What is it?” Cassandra said.

“Oh, sorry, mother. I was just looking at the city through the mirror.”

“My heart is racing,” Celine said.

“And that festival hasn’t even officially started yet.”

“Now put your tabard on,” Cassandra said. She handed him the blue raiment.

Yoreno synched it around his waist with a thick belt of leather. From that hung his sword. The weight, familiar, felt good on him. He didn’t much like to be without a weapon. When he did, he felt naked.

Looking in the mirror again, he supposed he wasn’t overly foppish. The dark blue raiment with an image of Aevalin castle was depicted in white surrounded by a square border rounded at the top. In the sky were little golden stars that reflected light.

“And what about us?” Celine asked.

Yoreno glanced at them both. He was surprised they had finished preparing before he had. “You look lovely.”

Celine looked at him with a telling face.

“It’s true.”

“And what of me?” John asked, entering the foyer.

Yoreno turned and his eyebrows went up. He was dressed much the same as Yoreno was, except without the armor and his tunic was blue with gold diamonds around the collar. His puffed up sleeves were slit with gold silk and on his back he wore a fine cape of short black fur.

“Perfect,” Cassandra said.

“Excellent!” He came further into the room. “You look lovely my dears. And you, Yoreno—very fine.” He clasped Yoreno over the shoulder and nodded firmly. “Your deeds deserving of knighthood have finally come to fruition.”

“Yes, father,” Yoreno said, though he wasn’t sure he really deserved it. He had beaten the monster guardian Herokelus mostly by accident when they both went tumbling over the cliff at the Isle of Morr.

“Um,” my lords and ladies, Hendrisus said, “there are carriages arriving at the front steps. “Lady Brennovo awaits.”

Hendrisus was in his middle years. He was a thin, mostly bald man with a thin mustache. He was an excellent master of servants that John had employed for most of Yoreno’s life.

“How goes it?” Yoreno asked. He hadn’t seen the man in weeks and he had been missing when Yoreno had arrived after coming back from the isle. “You look somewhat thin, man.”

“I am quite well, my lord,” he said with a smile and a bow. “Congratulations on your coming knighthood.”

“Thank you.”

“Well,” John said gruffly as he puffed his chest out. “Are we all prepared then?”

“I am,” Celine said. Then she made a funny noise.

“Are you quite all right, my lady?” Hendrisus asked.

Yoreno smiled at her sister’s barely contained excitement.

“It’s the castle, Hendrisus!” she exclaimed. “We’re invited to the castle, to stay during the whole of the Readventure Fesival.”

“And what did I tell you in my letters?” John asked. “Do you remember?”

“That was nearly half a year ago,” Cassandra said as she put a hand on John’s shoulder. “And we all remember, my dear.”

John smiled in a self-satisfied way.

“Come on!” Celina said. “We shan’t make them wait!”

“No,” John said. “We shouldn’t.” Then he laughed as Yoreno took to the stairs. “Dantera might withdraw her offer to knight you if you make her wait out in the cold much longer, eh?”

Yoreno laughed. “Doubtful, father.”

George, dressed in the Brendara servant livery of grey trousers and pale blue tunics was downstairs waiting at the door. He helped father into his cloak, and then Yoreno’s mother, followed by Celine. Yoreno himself declined to be helped into his jacket. In fact, he forewent the jacket all together.

“Don’t you get cold?” Celine asked.

“Not really.”

They stepped out the door over the steaming steps that had been prepared by George who had poured hot water on them to melt any ice.

Dantera was standing at the base of the steps and Yoreno’s eyes went wide. Yorinius, his long wavy black hair hanging over his wide shoulders, smirked.

“What is it, Yoreno?” Dantra asked.

“I just—“ He stepped down two steps and then paused. “I didn’t expect you to be dressed… well, in a dress.”

Dantera gave him a look. “I am a woman, yes?”

Yoreno chuckled dumbly. “My apologies, Mistress.” He swallowed. “You look lovely.” And indeed she did! Dantera wore a white dress with pleated skirts, the back dragging like a short cascade of white roses. Her shoulders were bare and on her stomach she wore a white breastplate with straps that slipped into the fabric of her dress, almost making the armor plating look like nothing more than an ornamental piece.

What gave her away as a fighter was that Ito Farralia was hanging from her hip.

“Goodness!” Celina exclaimed as she followed Yoreno down the steps. “Lady Brennovo—you look lovely!”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Indeed,” Cassandra said. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

“And you.” Then she nodded to John. “Lord Brendara.”

“No need to be so formal,” he said. “We see each other all the time!”

Dantera laughed lightly. “Well, we are all here, ready to make our grand entrance at the castle!” She said the words with a spread of her arms.

“Yoreno!”

Yoreno glanced toward the voice. It was Dellwyn. He called Yoreno again, waving him over.

“Excuse me a moment,” he said, nodding to Dantera and Yorinius.

“It’s good to see you, Yoreno.”

“You too, Yorinius,” he said. “We need to catch up at the festival.”

“Indeed.”

Yoreno made his way to the carriage in the back where Dellwyn had called from. There were other members of the Roaming Lions out here, some of them dressed for the knighting ceremony. With Dell were Mai and Sorika.

Mai smiled. “It’s good to see you all dressed up.”

“This?” he said. “It’s so foppish.”

“Yes,” Sorika said. She too smiled, something Yoreno didn’t see much of. He was glad that she was oviously happy to be here.

Their dresses were simple, but fine. It was best not to over dress when your betters could potentially be undone at a social gathering by such an occurrence. Silly, but that’s the way it was.

“You seem rather happy today, Sor,” he said, wondering if he should even comment on the matter. But it was too late now.

“Me?” Sorika asked. “I’m the same as I always am.”

Mai smiled, her gaze flicking from the back of Sorika’s head to Dell standing a pace to her right. The look on Mai’s face hinted at something. He would ask her about it later.

“It’s not bad,” Dell said, clearly changing the subject.

“No,” Mai said, stepping closer. “I quite like it. You look…”

“Knightly?” Sorika asked.

“Precisely!” she said.

“You seem…” Yoreno began. “Different without your staff.”

Mai giggled. “It’s not a part of me, Yoreno. And we are going to a party after all.”

“But we have our swords,” Dell said.

“Well, we’re about to be knighted,” Yoreno added.

Dell nodded. “Indeed. But this is the Age of Readventure. We’re supposed to have our weapons. This is no ball dance.”

“There will be dancing,” Mai corrected.

“And a ball,” Sorika added with a nod.

“Oh.”

“Yoreno!” Dantera called. He turned to find her ushering him to her. “It is time to go. You can play with your friends later.”

“Play?” Yoreno asked rhetorically. Sighing, he turned back to his friends and smiled. “See you at the castle.”

“Yes!” Mai said, making two fists and looking like a little girl who had just been given a bowl of candy.

Yoreno chuckled then went to Dantera.

“Your parents are in the other carriage,” she said, gesturing to the coach between theirs and the one few others the rest of the Roaming Lions would be taking to the castle.

Across the street every single house was lit and people walked the street. A large gathering was entering the house opposite the Brendara estate just as they were leaving.

Glancing back at George and Hendrisus, he said, “While we’re away, enjoy yourselves. Have a night out on the town.”

George smiled with a nod. Hendrisus only lifted an eyebrow as he glanced from one side of the city and back to Yoreno as he turned back to the coach. Perhaps it was the gentlemanly thing to so, so Yoreno offered Dantera his hand to assist her with the step into their carriage.

“Oh!” She smiled. “Thank you, Yoreno.”

Yoreno followed her in. Then Yorinius and Cypius entered after they were seated. Yoreno hadn’t seen Cypius in a long time, but she was here, ready for the Readventure festival.

“It’s cold,” she said.

“Indeed,” Dantera said. “I am excited, but I will be busy most of the night and during the next few days, so make sure everyone from the Roaming Lions behaves themselves.”

“Of course,” Yorinius said.

“The behavior of the guild’s members reflects on its leaders, but especially myself.”. She sighed nervously. “I know everything will be fine.”

Yoreno nodded, feeling somewhat guilty about their plans to smuggle Lev into the party. But it would be fine. Lev was a lout at times, but he wouldn’t do anything to get himself kicked out of the castle.

Would he?

In a dark part of Aevalin castle facing away from the sunset a man sat in a luxurious chair, seated by the fire. He wore robes of silk imported from across the seas. The heat of the fire did nothing to warm his spirits.

No.

In fact, this man’s spirits were ablaze with hate and fire and malice. Even more so now that the Age of Readventure was upon them.

It was an insult.

An insult to the reality of the world—the reality conjured by the Great One. The one man who showed them that magic was limitless.

And now, in these days when that magic was receding, this arrogant young king Branlin wanted to make a name for himself by ridding the world of its blessings?

A knock came at the door.

“Enter,” the man in the chair said, his voice low in pitch, loud and dour of spirit.

And yet there was a hidden glee there.

The servant came through the door and sat the meat pie onto the table next to the chair. With it a bottle of red wine was also set.

“My lord,” the servant asked, “do you want me to fetch you a blanket? It’s frightfully cold in these chambers.”

“Get out.”

The servant nodded and left the dead room.

The man in the chair—without turning his head—reached out and grasped the bottle of wine. The cork had already been screwed out of the bottle. He lifted the drink to his lips and guzzled.

But before the bottle was empty, he suddenly tossed it into the fire, the flames dimming and flickering, but not dying completely.

And then a hideous voice, like a body dragged over a muddy road hissed, “Yeeessss!”

The man in the chair lifted his arm and smashed the meat pie, grasping at its contents with his black leather glove until he found a parcel within.

Lifting that parcel, he untwined something. It was a leather roll. The man undid it, revealing an assortment of stilettos, small cutting knives, magical crystals glowing with bright luminous blue light and several tiny velum scrolls.

The light of the crystals revealed something on the man’s face.

His hideous aspect.

Not burns.

No.

Acid scars so deep he should have been a walking corpse.

Had someone been in the room with him—had that person seen his face, he would have shrunk back. And if he be a woman, she would have screamed and ran from the chamber, calling for magical exorcists.