Realistic or Modern Rumors' Main Thread

[Peoni]

Welcome to Promise, the city of dreams where lost ones from all around the world come to find themselves. It is a medieval-esque place--perhaps a mixture of 15th century to 18th century elements--in which the Royal Family is worshiped almost like that of Gods. In this city, our characters may be born or raised, or they may come from a faraway land. In any case, they've come seeking purpose.

This is a Romance-focused story. This is a Rumor-based story. This story is dramatic. Along with your characters' dreams, everyone should find themselves engaged in some sort of romantic escapade!

There will be judgement, scandal, gossip, jealousy, hate, and more!

Who is your character? What do they do? What is their dream or do they even have one?

 

[Peoni]

Location: Central Bazaar | Attire: X | Interacting/Mentions: Arlo (NPC)

It is summertime in Promise--the busiest time of the year. Merchants and buyers from all around the country have come to sell their wares or add to their collections and make connections. The city's Central Bazaar is overflowing with patrons both regular and new; entertainers have gathered flocks of people both young and old. The day is grand and the weather magnificent.

Dressed in her best commoner's clothing, Arvery flows with the crowds, blending in as best she can. Her hair is undone, offering a sort of freedom from her everyday pins and brooches and ribbons.

Smiling softly at her thoughts of this wonderful city, she is whisked from the crowd by the scent of freshly baked bread.

"Good morning, Arlo," she says to a short, butt-chinned man of scruffy, copper-toned hair.

He recognizes her voice and appears suddenly more chipper than he had before she arrived. "Well, well. Looky here. Yer pa finally let'cha out?"

Arvery giggles, "With determination, Arlo, all things are possible..." Her ocean-blue eyes glance absently over the variety of different bread, prompting her mouth to water.

Arlo can tell what she's thinking. He grabs a nearby serrated blade and cuts her off a chunk of his most recent batch. "Here ye are, lovely."

"Oh? Oh, no, no. I couldn't," she shakes her hands in front of her but he insists.

"No, go on. Ye've spent many a coin fer me. It's the least I can offer. Please."

Arvery hesitates a moment, but she takes the bread in the end--"I suppose..."--then tears a piece off and places it in her mouth. The sweetness and texture take her by surprise. Looking at Arlo widely, she asks with wonderment, "Is this a new recipe?" and Arlo laughs, nodding.

"You bet," he says.
TheSaint Lotheralaix Kitsune2202 ArchAngelLexi

 

[ArchAngelLexi]

Xavier was seated outside his home in the garden. He sat under a tree writing on some spare parchment. We was writing a short poem about the love he yearned for, that of a man's. Beside him was a stray tabby cat, eating some scraps of meat Xavier had brought out with him. As the cat finished it's meal it rubbed against Xavier's pant leg, purring lowly. With on hand he reached down and scratched behind it's ear.
Hearing someone approaching fast he shooed the cat away. The feline quickly climbed high into the tree. Xavier turned back to his paper and continued writing. Soon the intruder stopped beside Xavier. He could tell just by the shoes it was his younger sister.
"Yes Mary?" He questioned, looking up to meet her gaze.
"Father would like to see you, says its important. Personally i wouldn't keep him waiting."
"I see." With a sigh he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. What ever it was, it must be important if his sister showed some urgency to it. He hoped dearly his father wasn't trying to get him wrapped up in any politics, that was his older brother's job and he wanted nothing to do with that.
As he made his way back to the house his sister followed close behind. Inside he found his father waiting for him, looking stern and serious.
"You called for me?"
"Yes, Lord Denton and I have been speaking lately. He has an adopted daughter, and we want you to court her." His father's voice was clear and gave no hint to there even being a negotiation about this.
"I will no-," Xavier began to interject but was interrupted by a the raised hand of his father.
"You will. In all your years you have not made any attempt to find a proper bride. No son of mine will go unmarried." His father paused for a moment, probably expecting Xavier to say something but he said quiet. "Now, this girl would not have been my first choice for either of my sons but Lord Denton and I found it... mutually beneficial. You probably are already familiar with her, she's the lady in waiting for the princess."
"Yes, I know her." Xavier replied curtly, obviously annoyed. Of course his father arranged for him to court some girl.
"Good, then you'll be accompanying your brother and I at the palace. I expect to hear only good news." Leaving no time for any retort his father turned away to prepare to leave, leaving Xavier standing in there alone.

Kitsune2202

 

[Kitsune2202]

Lady Magnolia
Mentions: ArchAngelLexi
Interactions: Peoni

Magnolia knew she should probably stay closer to the princesses side, but considering they'd managed to get out from the castle walls, she figured she should also enjoy this time out. This was her home, this was where God destined her to be raised at first, even if he sent more blessings her way...these were her roots. She knew just about everyone in town and they knew her. Who knew such a thing would actually come in handy for being a lady of the princess. She was grateful that she was such a kind person and really admired her. At the moment she was eating something Aro made, and while she was tempted to go try some herself she was distracted by the flower stand.

There were such beautiful arrangements and she wondered how much more amazing a whole field of them looked. In truth she was mostly wanted this trip to be a distraction. She'd gotten a letter from her father explaining that she'd wasted too much time in court and so matters were being taken into Lord Denton's hands. He arranged for her to meet with one of the Lords sons. She wasn't thrilled of course with them butting into her love life, but what option did she have. It was't her fault most of the nobles of the court were pompus, arrogant, sexist elitist who didn't want to marry a millers daughter even if she had gained a title and lived in the palace now. They would always remind her of who she really was beneath all the fancy clothes.

With a heavy sigh she looked at Jon running the stand and he offered her one of her favorite flowers, a lilly. "Come now, a gal like you needs a smile." He chimed.

She gently accepted the flower and intertwined it in her hair, " Thank you, you're right. I've just got some silly pesky things on my mind."

He looked at her a bit stumped, "Like what?"

"Family issues- nothing to worry about though, everyone is fine." She quickly added not wanting to start a rumor because lord knew those spread like wildfire in town and in court. She gave him a few coins and picked out a couple more flowers, ones she felt Avery would enjoy, and waved good-bye before making her way back to her side. "Look what I got!" She chimed happily.

 

[TheSaint]

The black stone buildings of Northreach always seemed to swallow the sunlight pouring in over the mountain wall, leaving the castle as something of a void in the city. Banners of the white and black house colors were hung down the major streets leading up to the castle in a show of solidarity as a procession of riders moved from the main gates towards the tombs to the east of the city.
Different colors flew with the arriving party, a pastel assortment with small birds, marking the arrival of an entirely different house. A sombre feeling over the crowds that gathered as the late Lady Sarrow was returned to her family, having wished to be returned to her home in the letters written before she leapt from her balcony. No real reason offered, causing the serving staff to explode with their own theories on the scandal.

True to the nature of nobility, the affair was swept under the rug as quickly as possible but the news of the young woman’s suicide had already spread like wildfire. Rumors swirling about just why the young woman betrothed to Lord Edric Raeves would take her life, some even commenting it could be a downright political murder.
Edric was spared suspicion due to his absence from Northreach, having spent the last few years leading a host of men through the edges of the kingdom to fortify every point of entry. Although no enemies had come to any of their gates in nearly a decade, the different holds could at least agree that no point should be left vulnerable. Edric had done well in his duties but had earned the ire of his own parents over forcing the young woman to wait within Northreach for his return, the wedding constantly put off in the name of duty. It was no secret Edric was barely interested in forming normal human relationships, doing the bare minimum in the few social events he was forced to attend.

Edric had made the effort to return home in time for the young woman he’d only met briefly was carted off in a birch casket carved with soft flowers. Truly the girl was too young and fragile to be left on her own for ages, though Edric had assumed the girl’s own entourage would have seen to her care. Perhaps the prospect of marriage to someone who’d be deemed controversial on good days was enough to push her over the stone balcony. Regardless of her reasons, Edric would need to appear to be at least upset about losing his future bride. A confusing custom as any member of nobility would know an arranged marriage rarely sparked feelings, especially when the two never spent any time together.

‘Look down, look at the casket, look disappointed at least’

Nearly losing himself in thought, Edric needed to at least keep himself present enough to keep the girl’s family from being offended. The loss of a child and needed political ally had already sparked rumors of assassination in the name of throwing the balance, perfect fodder for gossip within the kingdom.

‘Nod, look to the left, mumble and apologize for your condition’

The devastated Lord and Lady Sarrow would be joining the Raevers shortly and Edric would likely be put through a series of tests against his morality. Lord Sarrow’s eldest son wore a scowl that could melt stone as he approached Edric and his guards, clearly choosing to lay his blame on the Lord he’d openly opposed marrying his sister.
A snarl over Edric’s lack of emotion followed the painfully awkward formal greetings, the future master of house Sarrow was making political missteps in his grief and was soon hushed by his own mother.
Edric was almost certain the boy regretted his comments about the girl being better off dead than at Northreach.

‘Don’t tell him he’s gotten his wish.’’

War was the last thing needed, though it was clear even if the freshly humiliated young man attempted to cause discord, he would be punished further. So rash and irresponsibly, something Edric had likely suffered through in his early years, before he’d seen battle or truly understood what was needed to ensure victory.
Perhaps his own methods weren’t the most popular but he was at least known for bringing a nation to heel almost a decade prior. The exchange would end quickly as the boy’s parents would shuffle him off silently, making a beeline to Edric’s parents, his mother crumbling into tears with Lady Sarrow. Edric could understand this grief his mother held over the loss, she was a deeply caring and kind person, likely blaming herself for the loss of a future daughter.

‘Keep looking at the casket’

Edric would do his best to at least appear upset over the loss, forcing himself to make the day easier on both families. He wasn’t long for Northreach and knew an argument might break out if the girl’s family found out he was leaving as soon as the funeral ended, there was little dignity in pretending to grieve.

“Business or butchery” The question had Edric turning almost violently to the right as an older woman addressed him, another question hidden away in the vague words thrown at him. “Five years is a bit long for either.”

‘Don’t give her the satisfaction’

“Necessity” Edric replied politely, earning a dramatic eye roll from his great aunt, an impressive fossil of a woman who still managed to move around silently enough to listen in on just about anything. Lady Aelish Raeves was far from pleasant to encounter and never bothered to soften anything she said, claiming verbal battery would toughen up the children of the castle. Edric hadn’t been nearly afraid of entering his first battle as the idea of this crone mocking him for turning tail, though he still wasn’t entirely ready to thank her for terrorizing him during his formative years.

“Running away from lordship and duties, the terrifying Lord Edric deems chasing savages a greater necessity than producing an heir, you’re a greater disappointment than your cousin Vandris” Aelish snipped, earning a snort of laughter from Edric that was quickly stifled.

Laughing at the funeral of his betrothed wasn’t going to earn him any good will from the citizens who still mumbled about his grossly misunderstood actions. Even if the cousin in question had been captured and ransomed no fewer than sixteen times in his short life.


“You must excuse me, Lady Aelish” Edric said quickly, needing to put some distance between himself and the vicious old woman. Finally given an opening to exit as the girl’s coffin was loaded into the wagon and all eyes would be focused on the leaving procession. The group was going to be staying for a feast and Edric was going to have to continue coaching himself through the bare minimum of grief to keep something of an appearance. Perhaps he’d be able to make a swift exit, blame grief, and still manage to leave as quickly as possible.
Not irresponsible enough to risk embarrassing his parents, Edric knew he was going to be trapped within the circus of his own family and the outright hatred from some of the family of his late bride.

“Lord Raeves, sir” Another voice had Edric turning quickly to face a young man with a wisp of a brown beard jogging after him, battling the uneven stones of the well worn path. The urgency in his tone was enough to give Edric pause and the pending distraction was something of a blessing, he was almost hoping for some disaster to be dragging him away from the hours of discomfort awaiting him. “Your presence is requested by Lord Raeves.”

------

‘Your presence is requested by Lord Raeves’

The last words he’d heard before having the greatest inconvenience and merciful way out in history, his father demanding his son personally escort documents to the king. Documents Edric knew were incredibly important but likely could have waited a few days were upgraded to something needing a rush delivery. Part of him wondered if it wasn’t just a well timed coincidence, perhaps his parents knew it best to get him off of the grounds to avoid further offending house Sarrow.

Instead Edric had been sent off to run errands for the Lord of the castle and knew better than to complain, especially given the nature of what he was carrying. The group would be moving endlessly for weeks before actually arriving in Promise to hand things off and be rid of the responsibility hanging over them.
Only a few mind inconveniences would find the traveling group though none of his men were wounded, bandits were weak willed and unwilling to get themselves killed over a few coins. Edric would compare them to some pack animals, only attacking when they were certain of victory and breaking once loss was guaranteed.

The invitation to remain in Promise for a few days to rest had been impossible to refuse once the king had personally offered, meaning Edric and his entourage were going to be spending a few days enjoying the sights of a much different city. Sincere apologies were also offered by some nobility over the loss of Lady Sarrow, though the conversations were prying in nature. Everyone who’d heard of the girl dying was offering a different version and Edric wasn’t quite able to offer any closure, having been away when the girl died.

Peace would only come once the group had splintered off to see different suppliers around the city, Edric himself staying fairly close to the castle after dropping his armor off to be repaired. The smithy was surprisingly full of guards who were happily yammering on about their exploits around Promise, offering a little too much information as they sought to one-up each story. Tales growing ridiculous in detail and soon boring Edric out of people watching, he needed to return to the castle and sleep before the dinner he was expected to attend that evening. Part of him hoped it would be a private affair and he wouldn’t be on display before a group of nobles scrambling to climb the incredibly packed social ladder within Promise.

 

[Lotheralaix]

Rabanus is in the middle of collecting his bounty when he's approached by the old merchant. This withered old thing that looks like he could be blown away into dust by a stiff wind approaches him when he's handing over the soiled rucksack to the scowling guard captain in front of the courthouse. Upon taking this job, they'd specifically requested that he not set foot inside any official building, to collect his bounty and refresh his supplies if he must before sundown, so that they may escort (shove) him out of their city in the quickest fashion possible. Captain Renfield in more or less polite and round about way of words told him it was because they didn't trust to have someone like the Raven Knight in their city. Rabanus ever the one to start trouble, asked in the most even tone if Captain Renfield had a personal issue with him. He'd attribute the man's pride and sense of honor as the only reason why he'd not raised hand nor sword his way for the remark, instead watching the face through the slits of his helm grow a deep cherry to the point he thought the man would implode on the spot.

"If the talk of the lands have any merit, I've brought in what is believed as a demon incarnate that's eluded you and your men for months now; should I not be regarded with the honor and gratitude of your savoir and that of a knight? Have I not brought justice by taking this man's life and with that his sins?"

Renfield, bless his patient stars, kept his head held high as Rabanus questioned his orders as Captain right in front of his men and the slowing townsfolk, all to eager to catch ear of the exchange. "The Raever's personal mercenary is hardly anything brag worthy outside of Northreach." The Captain had this way of speaking - no doubt the reason he was able to climb so high in the ranks - that even when he was speaking down upon Rabanus and his past.. associate, he sounded chivalrous and dignified as ever, as if he were paying praise rather than spitting in his face. Even the grin that he flashed Rabanus, chin raised in a pointed challenge was more deceitfully charming than it had any right to be.



A smart man would accept defeat, would cower at the blow to his ego and shamed reputation. The smart man would take what he was given and flee the city before starting any more of a ruckus, especially when the civilians around them dropped their acts to blatantly ogle the exchange with drool at their lips. Rabanus never claimed to be a smart man and thus stepped forward at his full height, wretched smile hidden by his own helm as he came toe to toe with the Captain. "Such exploits with Lord Cleaver and his army that my Great King Tiberius bestowed the honor of knighthood upon my shoulders. A knight of Leophanes is a knight even in Promissia, as per the standing treaty." He would remind, knowing without a inkling of a doubt that his participation in the war, as a man that held no stake as a foreigner no less was controversial at best and blasphemy at worst. The King's decision to acknowledge his involvement in The Incident of Candor as an act of valor rather than a massacre as their sister country dubbed it had greatly estranged the ties between the two nations, though they had yet to annul their treaty for reasons that have been left secret to the public. Corruption being the most famous answer, but if you were to ask Rabanus it was the most obvious answer in the world!

Leophanes was the only of the Greater Nations that was a single-minded militarized powerhouse. Leophanian men and women were soldiers first and citizens second. Promissia regarded him a merciless butcher of the Candor people, Leophanes prided him as a warrior unafraid to take the safety of his sister's nation before the cowardly few. The sacrificing (slaughtering) of an entire city as a turning point became gleeful songs belted out drunkingly throughout the nation's taverns, stories of great victory to the training youth, pride to a nation to have one of their own - just one at the mercy of desperate savages - in an astronomical point in history. Upon returning to his home country Rabanus was greeted as a returning soldier from war, a hero to beheld, while Lord Raever was something of a being truly bless by the Gods' of War and Victory. A stark contrast to the treatment received in the lands of Promissia.

Here, under the Beautiful King De'Lasier, Rabanus was something of a boogeyman; a tale to scare young children into behaving lest they be taken by the Raven Knight (a story that never ceased to leave a sour taste in his mouth upon hearing). Here, Rabanus was only a knight in name, lacking the practice of nobility and honor. Rabanus may not be exiled, but make no mistake he wasn't met with welcome arms. It's been made abundantly clear that he was allowed foot inside of Promissia an allowed business out of obligation and in same cases fear. Not that he minded, rather Rabanus knew that what he'd done and continues to partake lays within the darker reality.

A necessary evil.

Rabanus saw himself as a willing soul to shoulder the burden that many were unfit to carry. For that very reason did he side with the Raever in Candor, volunteering himself to get his hands dirty when everyone else stood on the sidelines. The first time he was accused of being cruel, he'd been flabbergasted at the ridiculousness of the claim! It was Candor that was cruel, favoring to keep their walls closed and their eyes blind from the nation that called out to them in their time of need. The price for such cowardice and treason could only be death. Defending a damned city was no better than conspiracy against the kingdom.

It's why he's prepared for the angry flare of the Captain's nostrils as he holds back his men - though only barely - from attack. Rabanus knew as one of the dishonored arrest wouldn't be his fate if the Beautiful King decided that he'd be spared no longer. Rabanus would be nothing more than a stain on the cobblestone beneath their feet. Captain Renfield's patience can only be worn so thin until the sickly sweet timbre of his voice is replaced with a grave sneer as his helm butts into Rabanus' own, pushing the small coin sack into the armor of his chest with a final shove to get them out of another's breathing space.

"You will not endanger these people with your presence." Captain Renfield says.

Rabanus doesn't need to see the glower to know it a threat. Rabanus now bored with the rift raft of the predictable treatment doesn't spare so much as a stuttered heart beat.

"I've done my duty as a knight to keep these people safe," he says. "And now I'll do my duty as an enlightened traveler to put back into your city's economy."

He doesn't wait for an answer as he turns to leave, lightly tossing the bag into the air to gauge it's weight. It's a little light for what the poster claimed as reward, not so much so to create a fuss over. He's expected it. Color him surprised that even after the less than polite exchange the elderly man that was in the corner of his eye has yet to leave his side - looks hopeful as he steps closer to Rabanus in a cryptic sort of way. He doesn't know if he should be curious or suspicious of anyone who looks at him like that.

"I was told you might help." The merchant whispers, likely keeping his voice down as not to create another scene when they'd hardly left the last. He can't see the way that Rabanus' brows shoot up, or the way that his lips pull into a tight frown, only that he is making long strides to leave. The man follows. "The Captain thinks me too much of a risk to dispatch an escort with, and the mercenaries too poor to consider." When Rabanus continues to remain silent the old man takes it as his cue to continue speaking. "I am old but I am able. I only require protection from the growing number of bandit on the roads to Promise." He was pleading with Rabanus, it was pitiful really (and frankly annoying). Fearful that the man would continue to ramble he stopped in his tracks, holding out an arm to keep the merchant from passing.

Rabanus looked over his possible employer this time more closely; clean cotton clothes with spindling embroidery meaning that he had connections to finer merchants, skin that was dark though not dirty meant that he was able to bathe constantly, boots that were scuffed but with their soles intact meant that he could afford to replace them often. Even the thinning white hair was brushed and cut under the wide brimmed straw hat that spoke of someone who was able to take care of themselves.

"What do you sell?"

At this the man brightened up, seeming to puff out his chest as he answered his question. "Rugs and pottery."

Not the worst thing to sell, it certainly made for a shinier coin than an agriculturalist merchant. Though it meant for slower traveling as not to disrupt and break the pottery. This also attracted more thieves, as it was easy to take and resell for a heftier price. The only thing that was stolen more than pottery and rugs was jewelry. Now that was worthy of city guard's escort. Pottery and rugs. A job that seemingly no one else wanted and certainly far below an infamous knight's pay grade. Money was money however, and they seemed to be traveling in the same direction. His mind made up Rabanus sighed deeply.

"Do you have any Leophanian pottery?"

"From Kalus himself!" So he wasn't afraid to embrace their nations' treaty by carrying his home's wares, must be why so many have rejected him beforehand. It still wasn't enough to convince him entirely.

"You will pay for my ale." And he was sold.

"Of course!" The merchant beamed.

-

The old merchant, Bartholomew he'd proudly introduced had enough stories of his travels and of legends that he'd only been silent in slumber during their weeks of traveling (even then it wasn't peaceful, as the old man snored loud enough to imitate a bear). He'd spoken of the different interactions with each city and their differences, his travels through Leophanes (terrifying, so terrifying he exaggerates), all the way to the different tales that he's heard of Rabanus himself. The knight doesn't correct any of them, even if the more outrageous ones make his belly ache with laughter at the sheer imagination that some people had. It's difficult not to be entertained when someone has so much to talk about and doesn't become repetitive over the course of their travels. He's grown a tad fond of the near ancient merchant during their time together, especially knowing that Bartholomew was excited for his proposition acceptance, not just out of necessity but because he wanted to speak to him. The last time someone was so interested in his presence - that wasn't of his Leophanian lineage - was now a decade into his past.

It was silly to think himself fond enough to miss the old man's company as they neared the city's gates, hardly paying attention to the unimpressed upturn of the guard's brow when he handed over his papers alongside Bartholomew. He didn't so much as give an eye roll for a reminder that he'd need to renew his traveling permits in the capitol as well as Leophanes in months time (something that he was sure they would make him jump through many hurtles to obtain as they did every coming year), as he'd grown distracted with the final bits of gossip in the syrupy voice he'd come to enjoy. Rabanus kept to his word, staying with Bartholomew until his cart was set up in the market square next to a bakery. His stomach betrays him with a loud rumble, the old man laughing heartily as he rewards him with his final ale and a loaf of bread from said bakery, of which he at least pretends to have manners by nodding to the chipper women chattering away at the counter. As he parts ways with the old coot, he agrees that if they cross paths again that he would offer his services once more in turn for more ale and the promise to continue to sell Leophanian goods.

It's uncharacteristic of him to be mournful after a job, chalks it up to the exhaustion of the near non-stop travel over the past few months. He needs rest, preferably in a bed that isn't made of straw, a hot meal that isn't made over a small camp fire, and a bath outside of the river. Luxuries that he'll be lucky to have even one of without promising his ire. He's leaving the bustling market square in favor of finding lodging first, a job later when he swears that he sees a ghost. He only catches the profile of the man before he's walking and yet Rabanus knows with a utmost certainty the way that the man carries himself down to the shifting of weight on either foot with such familiarity that he's helpless but to follow the male through the crowd.

It's purely coincidence to see him here now, one so strange that it makes the tips of his fingers tingle. Rabanus is.. excited as he gets closer. A feeling that he's not had in some time outside of battle. What a pompous thing, he thinks as he walks but a few paces away from the man, still just as regal and self important as ever. He waits for the crowd to thin as he follows, like predator stalking prey out from the protection of others. He's almost vibrating with energy as he finally quickens his pace enough to casually fall in line beside the man, a lecherous smirk thankfully hidden behind his helm as he speaks coolly.

"Now who are you looking to push off of a balcony here, Cleaver?" It's playful, more so as he was in his youth upon first meeting Edric.

It's hard not to hear of the other man and his endeavors after their fates were linked so infamously a decade ago. Even out of touch and cities apart, Rabanus and Lord Edric Raever were linked together in conspiracies more nasty than the other. Thanks to old man Bartholomew he'd learned of the very short and tragic ending to his past associate (something that he'd been scolded for snorting at they weren't even in the same vicinity let alone lands when she became one with the Raever grounds he pointed out with a laugh on his tongue). It was hard not to hear of it, what with the Lord's sudden departure from the poor girl's services. It was almost a game among the grape vine to come up with a story more outlandish than the last of what 'really happened'. And now standing here next to the source, he couldn't be any more giddy to have taken part in shallow speech.

"I do believe that you won't be lucky a third time if you choose to act as a demon to this land."


Mentions (extremely briefly) :
Peoni Kitsune2202

Interactions :
TheSaint

 

[Peoni]

Two commoner women: "Did you see that?"--"See what?"--"A fella dressed in full armor, lookin' an image from a sad tale."--"What tale?"--"That of The Raven Knight. Come now, you know it. That cruel fella."

Two fancy gals: "So, you will be attending the Flower Festival tonight in the Royal Gardens?"--"I will, and you?"--"Of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world."--"What is the celebration again?"--"Oh, dear me, don't speak that too loudly. It is nothing but King Luther's marriage anniversary to his beloved Queen Emelia."

A group of soldiers: "Why I'll tell ya, that Raever twists my chin hairs a time or two when he speaks. Innit?"--"Waddya mean? He's a good boy."--"At's exactly what I mean, ya boggard. He's a pup... We all traveled the same distance. We all fought the same battles. His blood's what earns him the better treatment, but all blood bleeds the same..."--"Ha! You's just mad you ain't gettin' royal quarters tonight."--"Damn right!"

Some merchants: "I seen a royal carriage with some military escortin' it to the city."--"Eh? Did ya now?"--"Indeed. I caught words that they's of the name 'Wright'."--"No!? Ya mean the First Duke of Promissia? He owns his own military and region of the country! We're making coin tonight. Try not to take away from my profit too much, wouldn't wanna hire that mercenary I saw to take ye out."--"Aye. I can't tell if ya jokin' or not."

Two commoner men: "Well, I'll be damned... Looks like the King let his lil' Princess wander."--"Yeah. He doesn't chain her up, you know?"--"Might as well. He's a strict one... Who's the gal beside her?"--"Magnolia Miller. I know her real father. She goes by Denton now..."--"Denton as in... Lord Denton of the military Lord Denton?"--"You said it."

 

[Peoni]

Location: Central Bazaar > Heading to the Royal Palace | Attire: X | Interacting/Mentions: Arlo (NPC) (Briefly), Magnolia Denton, Rabanus Cunctator

"Thank you wonderfully, Arlo. I'll be sure to put in a good word for your bakery at the palace tonight. I offer my recommendation for you to join me in the Flower Gardens as well... Only if you'll accept." Arvery locks her hands in front of her, blinking in wait for Arlo's answer.

He shakes his head and politely declines, "I don't do myself 'round fancy folk. They'd find meh strange. Never enough thanks to ye, though, lovely. May yer day be bright."

"And your night starry..."

With a dignified curtsy, Arvery turns away from the aromatic bakery, catching glimpse of a man clad in heavy armor accompanying a merchant, then spots her friend Magnolia coming near with colorful flowers in hand. During the summer, like that of the said flowers, Promise becomes a diverse wonderland welcoming all who come to visit, so it shouldn't have bothered her to see something of a knight amidst the crowds of many. However, she finds herself slightly shaken to see him off in the direction of the Royal Palace, and she questions his character, as she finds him awfully familiar.

"Look what I got!" Magnolia's voice is chipper, encouraging a smile upon Arvery's plump lips. "How wonderful. They're beautiful. Perhaps we use them in my hair tonight? You know that mother will have me done up with extravagance to advertise me to potential suitors..." She pauses a moment, tapping her bottom lip as she leads the way through the excited crowds of people, set for the Royal Palace, then she says, "Oh! Right. My brother will be returning soon... I wonder how his meeting went with the Daughter of King Vlad of Armageddon. That name gives me chills..." TheSaint Lotheralaix Kitsune2202 ArchAngelLexi

 

[Maxilgal]

Maura’s arms strained as she hung the final bundle of herbs from the kitchen rafter. The whole room smelled of the strong plants. Thyme, parsley, sage, all sorts. Most of the best herbs her Aunt Morgan grew was for personal use and very special occasions. Maura rolled her neck, trying to release the knot she had nestling between her shoulders. Her aunt had left for the castle to peruse the flowers for that night’s festival. It was the perfect time for the famed herbalist to scope out the best crop. She had told Maura that she had seen a very hearty looking collection of chamomile, and off she went. At this point, Maura was more of an assistant than apprentice to her aunt, so she had no issue with holding down the apothecary.

It was afternoon and things were beginning to close, preparing for the festivities. Maura wished she could open the window and let a breeze in, but her aunt declared the main shop needed to be dark. Most people thought it was for the herbs, but Maura knew her aunt wanted to keep a mysterious atmosphere to her image. Maura decided that a few minutes spent watering and tending to the plants on the window box would be beneficial, and grabbed her watering can. She was disappointed when she found it and the water buckets empty. Groaning, she rolled her sleeves and picked the heavy buckets up with a low grunt.

The warm sun hit her when she stepped outside. It felt much better than the stuffy heat of the shop. The apothecary laid in the busy market area of Promise on the road of Hart Street. It led towards the castle and was parallel to the Grand Boulevard, which was the main road that nobles and large groups entered through. Hart Street, while smaller, was well situated for Faehn’s Apothecary and Medicine shop. It was also close to a well which Maura thanked whatever God or gods there were many times during her time in Promise. Her arms were strong from work, so gathering water was more a hassle than anything. As she heaved her buckets up, she noticed a pair of young ladies entwining flowers in their hair. She stopped and absentmindedly fiddled with a loose lock of her own. Was she as pretty as them? She couldn’t tell, because they were very pretty. Her Aunt said prettiness was overrated, and that all humans were ugly and beautiful in their own ways. Still, Maura thought as she balanced the bucket on the wall of the well, it must be nice to be pretty.

She was snapped back to reality as her bucket nearly toppled over, catching it with minimal spillage onto the road. Maura quickly took her load and hoped no one had seen her slip up. As she returned to the shop, she noticed her aunt hurrying down the road.

“Maura! Maura, inside I have news!”

She was quickly pushed back into the dark apothecary and before she could pour the water away, her aunt took her shoulders, smiling broadly. It was odd to see her disinterested aunt smile like a gleeful child.

“Lady Eleanor was sick with a cough. She heard I was looking at flowers and asked me for help. It was nothing really but she was so impressed by my work with the flowers from the gardens that she invited me to the festival. This will be a perfect marketing event! This could be a chance to really introduce myself to the royal family. Cicero is an idiot and once they hear of my skills they will surely invite me to be their personal medical counsel.” Her aunt’s lips twisted into a wry smile at the thought of displacing her rival, Cicero Hauld, from his esteemed position. Maura however, was lost in her own mind.

“What is it, child? Speak up.” Morgan knew by the pensive look on Maura’s face that she had something to ask of her aunt.

“Oh I...I was wondering...Could I go with you? I mean if not that’s alright I just…”

“Of course you’re coming! I’m not going to leave you at home to mope around like an old dog.” Morgan squeezed her shoulder in excitement. “Now, we need to find you something to wear! I will not have a niece of mine...no. I will not have such an important member of my business attend in a state of mess.” Maura smiled shyly but said nothing. Her chest filled with warm pride at her aunt saying she was so important. Despite Morgan appearing to not care, she sincerely did appreciate her niece and her talents. And now she could repay her for her hard work.

[Mentioned: Peoni Kitsune2202 ]

 

[ArchAngelLexi]

After getting ready Xavier's father ordered the two boys into their royal carriage to make the trip to the palace. It was boring as ever for The younger boy, especially since his brother and father talked politics. The entire trip, short as it may have actually been, felt like eternity as Xavier simply stared out the window. When they went past the market place Xavier was more than ready to just jump out and go shopping, itching to get away.
Upon reaching the palace His father ushered them out, having them follow him inside. Xavier followed as far behind as he could without his father shooting him death glares. As the walked though Xavier took in the details of the architecture and the art around.
"Your Highnesses! Pleasure to see you!" His father could be heard.
Looking over Xavier politely bowed with his family. Continuing to just look at the surrounding area, tuning out the talk till he heard his father address him.
"Xavier, Lord Denton's daughter is out the the princess. You are dismissed in the mean time. Stay out of trouble."
"Yes Sir."
Without another word Xavier headed to the royal library to find something new to read. He's been here so often he easily navigated his way over there. He spent awhile looking around before settling in with a book. Finally peace and quiet again he had become so bored he could barely handle himself. His older brother was probably schmoozing with the king and queen. The thought made his roll his eyes.

 

[Peoni]

Location: Hearty's Tavern on Hart Street | Attire: X | Interacting/Mentions: TBA

He was gone on a trial of marriage with a chosen suitor by his father, the King. Her name was Lillianette, the second born of Emperor Gustav of Kerchendale--a small country with rich soil and untouched mountains likely overflowing with valuable minerals and ores. The King thought it a worthwhile plan to secure an alliance with the said country in hopes of striking a deal; maybe more.

Luther, of course, failed to fall for the beautiful Lillianette's charms and ended their trial on good terms after discussing possible trade with the Emperor. In the end, things went well. He has returned home sooner than anticipated--thankfully so, as he's not a fan of his father's celebratory charades every time he leaves then comes back. Parties are often uncalled for, he thinks.

With that being said, it doesn't mean he's above treating himself to a drink at his favorite tavern!

Wearing a full set of armor, save for his helm that occupies the stool beside him, Luther tosses his head back with an arm around a shorter fellow in a race to see who can chug their ale the fastest. A crowd of drunken men and women stand around them cheering, hooting, and hollering. Some bet on Luther for his fame and others bet on the commoner out of respect for one of their own.

Luther is close to finishing when something in the crowd breaks his swallow and he chokes, bursting into a coughing fit of laughter as his ale runs from its mug and down his chin and neck, into his armor. The commoner wins! The tavern explodes with joy, rumbles with laughter, then settles into a festive blend of conversations.

"You're the first t' beat me, lucky bastard," Luther jests with the man, now sitting at the bar. The two laugh, then the man says, "Perhaps, but a win's a win. Here," he holds out his hand and Luther takes it, "the name's Odd."

Luther ponders the name. "Hm... That's an odd name," then the two cackle again before falling into another trade of stories and politics.

Time passes and he leaves the tavern with many waves in parting to his new and old friends. A large stallion awaits him, hitched just outside, but he chooses not to mount it--rather, he unties the reigns from its hitch and leads the horse down Hart Street at a slow pace so as not to miss any potential encounters or opportunities in hiding.

Luther is a friendly Prince--very outgoing and quick to make pals with a stranger. He often admires and envies the lives of commoners; though, he is strongly aware of his privileges. And so, these dreams of breaking free of his royal chains remain forever in his heart beneath the dream of one day becoming a powerful King as great as his father.

TheSaint Lotheralaix Kitsune2202 ArchAngelLexi Maxilgal

 

[TheSaint]

“Lord Raever, will you be attending the festival this evening?”

The question felt oddly far away when spoken, even needing to be repeated before the young lord looked back at the young man standing anxiously before him. Dressed in the usual garb of the castle messenger, the young man was shifting his weight between his feet as he waited.

“The what?” Edric asked, losing manners to his need to know just what sort of affair he’d walked into by running this errand for his father. Attending a social event only weeks after the untimely death of the young lady he’d been betrothed to would only further tarnish the reputation he held as a highborn goon.
He wasn’t foolish enough to think things had quieted down for him, though some of the versions of his own story being thrown around were laughable.

“The Festival of Flowers sir, the anniversary of the King and Queen’s marriage”

Edric withheld the heavy sigh in his chest, suddenly understanding why he was sitting there and not his own father. The documents brought had been accompanied by a few chests and the sudden nature of the journey made sense, they were playing nice with Promissia and celebrating the King and Queen on their anniversary. He would have no choice but to attend the event and even look as though he was enjoying himself or risk appearing rude. High society events were a gentle nightmare, one he was going to have to track down something more formal to wear.

“Of course I’ll be attending” Edric said quickly, before expressing his need for something to wear and receiving the address of a small tailor who made excellent items. The castle staff would no doubt be overwhelmed by noble demand and Edric was eager to actually receive the garment before the event kicked off and his absence was noticed.
Only an hour of time would be absorbed into the fitting before he was back out on the market streets and making his way back towards the quarters he’d been using. Something of a rest would be needed to get him through the evening, pretending to be part of the noble’s social circle was entertaining but exhausting.

The idea of having to toe the line of grief and expected masculinity was going to be taxing among a crowd of gossip hungry busybodies with little going on in their own homes. Something about the noble gossip machine had Edric convinced servants were exchanging letters of gossip with separate kingdoms. Something as disturbing as a young woman throwing herself from a balcony was too exciting to ignore, especially when a conspiracy could be wrapped around the event.

Edric really wasn’t sure who possessed the darker sense of humor, the universe or the talking set of armor matching his stride and speaking with the voice of someone many years absent from his life. Almost a decade since the pair had crossed paths and yet Edric was almost certain the Raven Kight hadn’t matured quite yet, it was almost a blessing Lord Raever was only playing at grief when the insensitive joke was hurled at him.

“I was seeking your mother but she’s yet to finish being passed around the barracks” Edric replied smoothly, playing with the sleeve of his black doublet in an almost dismissive manner. The nature of their banter would likely never approach anything close to acceptable within the social circles Edric was bound to, though he wasn’t about to deny himself the perfect opportunity to speak without considering whom he might permanently offend with profane speech. High born and nobility were something of a temperamental sort, losing reason as wealth increased. Some of the most outlandish people Edric had met were among the most privileged but often with shallow gene pools and paranoid views of outside worlds.

“So how did you even get into this city? The people here are easily frightened” The next question was somewhat serious, The Raven knight was one of the few people with a worse reputation, though Edric was still welcome to most banquets due to his high born status.
What nobility could get away with was astounding really, Edric was almost certain another man would have been dragged out before the courts or banished the way Rab had. “Or did you tell them you’re here to aid in my grief?” Dry as ever, Edric wasn’t going to behave completely insensitively to the young woman he’d only met once and had been a two week ride away from during her unfortunate death.

Lotheralaix

 

[Lotheralaix]

A full decade behind them, and Edric did not disappoint. It was refreshing to see that even high and might Lord Raever hadn't lost his sense of humor over the years. Even better to know that said humor was still kept hushed as a secret. The perks of being born into nobility of an equally pompous system; Rabanus didn't envy him at all. Not wishing to attract any more attention to them from the already lingering gaze, he knocked shoulders with Edric in a gesture so soft it wouldn't be noticed outside of the intending party.

"Such a foul mouth is allowed in high society? Good lord, someone may faint if they hear the ghastly things you say." Of course, the bit of mirth in his voice would be squandered when he was asked about his entry to the city. The implication that he couldn't get in left a sour taste in his mouth, even if Edric did have some merit to what he said. Childish as it was, Rabanus rolled his eyes following his words. Talking about his infamy was a good way to leave him bored and drive him off. "Some of us have manners and only have to ask nicely."

The closer that they came to the royal grounds the more that Rabanus slowed his pace - it wasn't as if he was specifically invited or welcome in such a place. Having courage didn't make him stupid. The pair were just outside of the gate when he'd instinctively shot out a hand to grab onto Edric's wrist to stop him, loosening his grasp before he even had time to really hold the limb captive. Holding onto Edric in such a way - even if only for a moment - was risky and careless. If anyone had seen the way that he held onto the man, familiarity be damned, he would be regarded as a threat to the Lord. Something about social cues and etiquette. Rabanus needn't explain more than to extend a hand to gesture to the invisible line in the sand between the royal grounds and the rest of the city.

"I won't be in town for long," Why that was even important to say was beyond him. More of a formality he would later argue, not a sign of trust. "Long enough to rest and resupply. Larger cities aren't exactly my speed. "

TheSaint

 

[TheSaint]

“Few truly know what my mouth is capable of, Rabanus” Edric replied, smoothly again as a smile dared keep its place on his dark features. Well cared for teeth were visible through a grin stoked by dark humor and nostalgia, freed by the strange shift in his old friend’s tone.

Edric hadn’t anticipated stepping on a nerve so quickly with the famously unflappable Raven knight, though he hadn’t seen the man in a decade and was obviously out of the loop on personal matters. Still the Lord would raise an eyebrow at the sudden change in tone, though remain polite enough to not continue in pressing the nerve. He would notice the ever slowing pace of their gait once the main castle grounds came into view, something told Edric there was some type of ruckus awaiting them with the city guard.

The feeling of a string hand closing around his wrist set off a strange chain of events, the sound of steel being pulled by the two men following closely behind them would be heard. Edric would quickly raise his free hand to stay the men drawing their swords in his defense, keeping his eyes fixed on the dark slit of the Raven Knight’s helm. He could still picture Rabanus in his youth, slicing through enemies and often wearing the blood of his enemies like a badge of honor.

“Still brave, I see” Edric said in a hushed voice, offering an almost smug smile to the man silently explaining the situation before them. Rabanus wasn’t allowed through the gates and the less than friendly expression of the city guard told Edrc the decision hadn’t lain with his old mercenary. He would calmly withdraw his hand from Rab’s grasp and face the gates without breaking his calm expression, daring them to question his bringing an unwelcome guest into the inner sanctum of the royal grounds.

“If you’re not in town long, you should join me within the gardens” Edric wasn’t asking, he was announcing their chosen course of action to the city guards and not receiving any challenge in return. Likely a complaint to the king would be sent off but provided Rabanus behaved, nothing would come of it. One of the benefits of a noble pedigree was the amount of unchecked power that came with the influence, Edric had struck the lottery in being born within the fairly independent Northreach.

Whether or not Rabanus would choose to stay with him one they slipped into the main part of the event wouldn’t trouble Edric, he was almost certain the younger man would be diving into the nearest buffet he could.
Edric would unfortunately be forced to mingle with other members of nobility he was hopeless to remember. Lotheralaix

 

[Maxilgal]

Maura had never been inside the castle gardens. She had heard they were exquisitely taken care of by a small army of gardeners and groundskeepers. Indeed, upon entering the Flower Festival party, Maura was taken aback by the sheer beauty of the gardens. Perfectly manicured hedges lined perfect gravel paths that stretched through the gardens like rivers of gray. Fountains poured crystal like water into pools below them. The marble statues that dotted the gardens were lovingly carved and held expressions of mirth and joy. By themselves the gardens were breath-taking, but with the added extravagance of the Flower Festival’s decorations it seemed like heaven.

“It seems like you’re enjoying the view,” Morgan smirked, softly fanning herself. She wore a very elegant off the shoulder gown of navy blue with crystals sewn into the bodice. She looked mysterious and beautiful, as always. Maura was wearing her favorite dress, deep green with lace sleeves. It wasn’t the fanciest or most expensive, but she remembered her mother giving it to her before she left for Promise. It was one of the few things from home she had.

“Oh yes. It smells divine, doesn’t it?”

“Intoxicating...I must find Lady Eleanor. With any luck she’ll introduce me to some higher nobles...maybe even the king!” Morgan whispered like a giddy school girl to Maura, squeezing her arm. “You go enjoy yourself. I know you dislike socializing, but maybe try and make a friend or two...or just wander the gardens I don’t know.” Morgan practically floated into the crowd, leaving Maura behind by herself. She felt suddenly very exposed, as if everyone was watching her.

Thankfully, the gardens were open to the guests to examine freely. Maura took her time examining the fascinating works of art made by the florists in honor of the king and queen’s anniversary. As she wandered the gardens, she suddenly realized she was alone. Even the most dedicated horticulturalists would be enjoying the party rather than taking a turn this far into the garden. For the first time since she had arrived, Maura felt totally and fully at ease.

“Are you going to Scarborough fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary and time...Remember me to one who lives there. She once was a true love of mine…” The words of the song flowed easily off her tongue. Her hands dragged gently across the hedge as she sang. One of the few things Maura thought highly about herself was her singing voice, though it was usually only reserved for the monthly meetings of Gael families to sing ballads and dance to traditional music.

Maura’s comfort was suddenly and violently ripped away as she turned a corner and nearly jumped at the sudden appearance of a man. She had to take a quick step back to not walk directly into him, and felt the blood drain from her head. Had he heard her singing?

“I-I-I’m so sorry I didn’t know...I didn’t realize…” She closed her eyes tightly and tried to focus. Panic was rushing through her body like lightning, and she half hoped God would strike her dead in that moment. She opened them again and looked up at the tall man. He was handsome, well dressed, and had the kind of face that looked like it scowled a lot. “I-I-I apologize. I didn’t know anyone else was around.” She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, unsure of how to continue. Was she supposed to talk? Was he supposed to talk? Was she standing too far away? What if she was too close? Should she curtsy? What was the order of etiquette? She just averted her eyes and looked down the path, trying to act as natural as she could.
TheSaint

 

[Lotheralaix]

Rab never felt comfortable at these sorts of events. Being around so many people that floated rather than walk the grounds, polite tongue and batting eyelashes as if their beauty and elegance some how translated over to innocence and purity. Rab knew better than to think that they were any less filthy than the patrons of the local brothel, they were just more keen on hiding it with proper speech and flowery perfumes that made the back of his throat itch. These guards that lined the skirts of the garden looked like nothing more than boys in a shiny costume. There was nobility and present oneself in their best light, but here without so much as a scratch or dent and he could practically smell the regality of a palace guard. Nothing more than a pampered watch dog in Rab's own opinion. The way that they kept their hand on sword as they passed was as much as a flash of teeth than anything. Treating him like a spec of dirt on their impeccably white linens. Call it a testament to his youth, or perhaps it was the mischievous streak of a late act of rebellion, Rab walked a little straighter even as his boots scuffed the pathway.

If there was to be any benefit to following along like a loyal pet to the Raever, it would be in the entertainment that the pompous and wealthy swanned in. From here he could already see a man far past his prime half lean into the table to steady himself, as if the goblet that he lifted was of true weight. Perhaps it was, weight seemed to equate expensive, or more accurately it may be based on the fact that the tawny liquid was already staining the puff of his collar, likely already three drinks in with a man of that stature. To the left he could see what was possibly one of the worst attempts of courting if the giggling and scalding eyes of a group of women hid behind their fans from the suitor in front of them. These laughs were far too high pitched to be anything other than forced and it was already starting to make his ears hurt. Give it an hour's time, if that, and the garden would be flocked with drunk, unabashed chatter and frolicking - dancing. For a class that was meant to be the upper elite they sure acted primitive with a hoppy drink.

There was the other benefit; free drinks for all to consume. Right new to this beautiful display of foods that could surely feed the entirety of the city if it wasn't going to be shucked into the pig stables as soon as the last guest vacated the grounds. The waste was a shame really, especially when it was possibly the most attractive thing here. Rabanus was forever grateful for Raever seeing something in a sixteen year old fresh out of the Leo Academy to bestow such a position upon him, he'd be forever grateful for his part in the action taken against Candor, but most of all he was grateful for the warm meals that came with being so close to the Lord. When he'd returned to Leophanes they'd held feasts in their honor for days and weeks on end, so much that he thought himself a glutton with the one indulgence he allowed in his life. And now, he was thankful again as the smell of something positively scrumptious and spicy wafted over from their spot in the gardens (ironic, considering most of the food of this country tasted more plain than a mouth of a sand).

Of course, just as he was to take his leave the world came barreling into them. More specifically, a small woman flying right into Raever's body. If he was in a lesser mood he may bare his teeth just as the royal patrol did him. Now however? Now he was choking on a laugh, covering his slip with a snort that hurt his nose and had him coughing indecently. Out of all the things he's seen in his short twenty six lives, it'd never been something as mundane and yet embarrassing as someone genuinely running into someone, and the Cleaver of Northridge no less. Rabanus wasn't sure if he was more amused by what had quite literally fallen into Raever's lap, or mortified. Either way, that was for his old employer to deal with. He was motivated by his exhaustion and lead by his stomach first.

"I've not drank enough to handle this." He teased, knocking an elbow into Raever's side a little harder than necessary. "You'll know where to find me," As if that was ever a question when in his teenage years he'd practically eaten the lord's supply out the house. "You know what they say, blessings fall upon us when we're least expecting it." Even with his voice raspy and cool he was sure that Raever could hear the wolfish smile contorting the hidden features. He gave nothing else but a nod as his departure. The first ale went down like a man dying of thirst. The second however, he was sure to raise in a mock toast to the Raever when he turned, only this time with the helm slightly tipped he was sure the grin was seen over the mug.


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