Chapter 88

The Skylight Festival was unique to Ur, occurring on the last Night before winter. Every time the suns would set on the western borderlands, the turbulent mana of the Wilds, combined with the extensive protective enchantments of the city, would create beautiful light shows in the sky.

A multitude of colors would spread like a wave, and where they met, crackling energy would burst, producing patterns and images in the sky. Mages in the city would even manipulate that energy to recreate famous scenes from the city’s history, or fantastic creatures from myth.

To enjoy the festival, the citizens of Ur would congregate in a park, an area of green grasses and large trees, part of a hill that overlooked the city. The volcanic soil and strong mana of the Wilds created a beautiful botanical garden, with flowers and plants found only in the borderlands.

The festival began at sunset, and ran for the seven days of Night, a final celebration before the cold winds of winter drove everyone into their homes until spring.

Wil stood in front of the mirror that dominated a large portion of his guest room, fiddling with the formal wear that Erik had provided. The city lord was sketchy on the details but assured him that his wife had finally relented and would allow him to escort their daughter to the opening of the festival.

Dressed in black pants and white shirt, his outfit was completed by a long, dark blue coat. It was heavily embroidered with silver vines on the sleeves and torso, while a silver Drake with outstretched wings was stenciled on the left breast, over his heart.

The tailor hadn’t let him wear his own boots, and replaced it with new black leather, shining and spotless. Wil had protested, until he tried them on, and they fit like a glove, molding to his feet like magic.

Satisfied that he was as presentable as he could be, he belted on ‘Dragon’s Tooth’, over his left hip, the black sheathe that Amora had given him as an apprenticeship gift was gleaming and new.

The scabbard was magical, his mentor had mentioned that it would last a lifetime and never require cleaning, and he thought the black contrasted nicely with the white sword. On the front was the symbol of a hart, the emblem of his mentor. The deer’s long antlers branched out from its head, connecting with the enchanted runes and glyphs.

Draping the white, ursine cloak over his shoulders, the white fur still pristine and perfect, despite all his travels and battles, he stared at the last item. His bag of holding was no longer in great condition. Its time in the Azure Lord’s inner realm had faded the leather, and the Midnight Desert had made it dry and cracked.

Battered and beaten as it was, the enchantments were still strong. Running his fingers along the stitching of two stags with locked horns, the Brookmoor family symbol, he could barely see it anymore.

“Markus had this for years and it was in perfect condition, but I use it for a year and it’s now on its last legs.” Wil muttered, staring at the item. Despite its tattered appearance, he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Not worrying about ruining the look of his outfit, he slung the bag over his shoulder, the worn leather strap crossing his chest. Wil took one final glance at the mirror, taking a deep breath to prepare for what he knew would be a trying Night, and walked out of the room.

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The blue light of Secundus dyed the sky indigo when Wil finally arrived at the park for the Skylight Festival. The deep blue light shone on the flowers and lawns of the garden as he walked up the path to the open sky pavilion that had been constructed for the city’s wealthy nobility to enjoy.

Not alone, Wil stood out with his attire, his sword and high-ranking mana drawing attention from those around him. His new leather boots rang out on the stones before he joined the queue to enter. A herald, wearing the blue outfit of the City Lord’s house, announced the attendees in a loud voice.

From where he stood, he could hear the musicians playing, the jaunty tune echoing across the open area.

‘Anwir would fit right in.’ Wil thought, picturing the Bard mingling with the crowd.

Suddenly feeling nervous, Wil looked around at the lush garden around him, focusing on a row of beautiful red roses, their petals in bloom. The sight took him back to the oasis in the Midnight Desert, where he had first met Astrid, and the Midnight Desert Rose that grew there.

Reaching into his bag, his hand closed around the flower’s thorny stem, perfectly preserved through the bag of holding’s magic. He remembered his meeting with Amora after the trial, and how she had refused to accept the flower, despite the Guild’s need.

“Keep it. You’re going to be traveling to places on the edge of Lund and I would feel better knowing that you have such a thing. Remember, it’s a panacea, capable of healing grievous injuries and diseases. Even a powerful curse would be powerless against it.” She had said, before pushing the offered rose back into his hands.

Releasing it into his bag once again, Wil gradually made his way to the front of the queue, where the herald announced him.

“Wilhelm of Brookmoor, Apprentice of Amora Magehand!” He called, and Wil started at the unfamiliar last name of his mentor.

‘Magehand?’ He thought, making a note to himself that he would have to ask her when they next communicated.

Stepping into the pavilion, he had a view of a crowd of people, all staring at him, before he felt a comforting hand on his arm.

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Astrid stood next to her parents, watching the arrivals from a dais raised in the rear of the pavilion. From the higher elevation, she could see over the heads of the guests, her eager eyes looking for one person in particular.

“He’s late.” She muttered, and her mother scoffed from beside her.

“Cold feet. I said that he looked unreliable.” Her mother said, taking a drink from the glass of wine in her hand. Her father, sat on an elegantly carved chair, leaned back, and shook his head at the comment.

“That’s unfair, dear. You can sense his presence, the same as I. He’s on his way now. Poor bugger, I don’t blame him for delaying, your scowling has probably put him off.” Erik said, before ducking his head at a glare from his wife.

Before she could say anything else, a young man approached the trio, wearing robes of the finest silk, imported from the south of Lund. Heavily embroidered with gold thread, he was festooned with accessories. Gold rings adored each finger, and his neck was weighed down by a necklace that held a ruby as large as robin’s egg.

Handsome and arrogant, he stopped in front of Astrid, before giving a slight bow to the city lord. Turning his attention to the beautiful, silver haired woman, his lips curled into a self-assured smirk.

“Lady Astrid, accompany me to observe the skylights?” He asked in a tone that was more of a statement, than a question. It was as if he already knew what her answer would be, and he was impatient to get the asking part over with. He even proffered his arm, waiting for her to rush to his side.

Viktor Rindahl, the son of the most prominent clan in the borderlands, was the favored grandson of their clan’s patriarch. They held significant territory, both in the city of Ur and the surrounding lands. They were also wealthy, with interests in multiple merchant companies and through the financing of expeditions into the wilds.

Their success bred arrogance, and it was rumored that their clan had ambitions on the city lord’s palace, their rise to power leading them to covet a noble title. Astrid, as the only daughter of the current city lord, was the perfect opportunity for them. To marry their son to the city lord’s daughter would mean a grandchild of the Rindahl would sit on the throne.

Glares were being sent at Viktor from the surrounding crowd, dozens of suitors had similar ideas, whether they coveted Astrid’s title, wealth, or beauty, they all were envious of the young man who stepped forward to seize this opportunity.

Frowning, Astrid opened her mouth to reject him, when she heard the herald announce the arrival of her escort.