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year 5, quarter 3
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The music pounded through the square like a pulse. Cecil felt it like a kind of static hum, coursing through the people and electrifying them with a primal energy. Cecil felt it himself though he tried not to. It was a base instinct that called upon wild days of fire and beating drums. A woman danced among the grasses, trailing streams of translucent fabric behind her as her companions lit her in spinning fire. She met his eye and smiled.
Cecil smiled back awkwardly then hurriedly looked away, cheeks heated in a blush. No. He had better control of himself than this. And think of Rosa…
He turned and walked away, keeping his eyes sheepishly down.
He didn’t quite know what he was doing here. He’d heard that there would be some kind of festivities in the city, and he’d wanted to see them for himself. It was a strange thing, he thought, celebrating after so many weeks of disaster and reconstruction. He’d seen the hollow eyes of the survivors. He’d used his magic to help them the best that he could. The city had seemed a dismal place then devoid of warmth and hope.
Now he was almost overwhelmed with it. It was all very loud.
He liked the concept. He liked the symbolic meaning. He wasn’t entirely certain if he liked being part of it.
”Excuse me. Sir?”
Cecil had his eyes averted so he didn’t realize immediately that he was being addressed. It took another urgent ’sir’ for him to stop and look back, frowning. A woman in a short red dress was looking at him. She held a clipboard in one hand.
”Are you looking for the dating event?”
”The...what?”
”The dating event. We’re missing a few men, and you looked lost.”
”Oh, um. No. I don’t think so.”
She seemed to finally notice the embarrassment on his face because she tried to backtrack, apologizing and saying something about how he was dressed for the occasion before moving on. Was he really wearing something so strange? He’d bought what he thought was a simple shirt and pants in the local style to have some means of changing out of his armor. Maybe it had some combination effect with his makeup and beaded hair?
Was that why he’d been drawing eyes?
Cecil withdrew, feeling somehow even more out of place than before. He should leave, he decided, but the entire city was alight with this kind of festivity, and he had nothing but dread at the idea of returning to his rented room with Tellah. He wished that he had someone like Rydia beside him. A feisty and strong-hearted woman who would lead him through the surrounding passions and who he could smile at fondly.
[attr="class","character-spring-1d"]How she got here, she was quite unsure. She was on her way back from Alexandria. The play there was fantastic and the theatre was of great craftsmanship. The airmen were running about to ensure a safe flight back with Cid there to supervise them in the process. The last thing she remembered was finding her quarters on the airship. She sat at her writing desk, lit by a lantern housing a candle. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror to prepare to remove her accessories and brush her hair out, when…
The candle light in the mirror seemed to be getting brighter and brighter. Or was the world growing darker and darker?
Then, she heard nothing but the primal beat of music. Something similar to what they played for the hunters at Lindblum’s own festivals. But this beat was less to inspire the adrenal instincts and more to warm the base carnal desires.
Oh dear. What had she fallen into? And where were her servants and guards? She opened her eyes.
She had traveled to many cities in Gaia for diplomatic reasons, but none resembled this location, nor did she know who this giant statue of a king resembled. Her eyes shifted to the crowd of well dressed couples pairing off. Dancers and performers brought with them the fires of love as they interpreted the concepts in their own artistry. And in her lap she felt a small coin purse. It was not her own, but it was clear someone had left it for her.
And oddly, it reminded her of a certain someone leaving gifts for her after snatching her away from normal society.
Between the romantic music and her predicament, it made her think of this ballet - Swan Lake. She had seen many renditions of Odette being snatched by an evil sorcerer and her new love trying to save her. Though, despite its renditions, to this day, no one was able to determine why the sorcerer wanted to keep and control Odette. Even the meaning of the heroine’s story could not be agreed upon. Some thought it was a literal and fantastical dilemma. Others interpreted it as Odette’s own dark psyche of hysteria after she learned her husband-to-be cheated on her. Even the ending changed depending on who produced the play. The original end depicted that Odette was unable to reconcile the prince’s betrayal. She forgives him, but ends her own life to escape her curse. There are other endings, where the prince and Odette join each other in death, ending the sorcerer’s powers. Then, there are the happier endings where the swans are inspired to rise up to free themselves.
Sometimes Odette was saved, other times Odile won.
Had Hilda never reached her own ending? Was the power that brought her here wanting to control her and to what end? Perhaps, she had been dreaming all this time and not known it.
Well, she was not going to learn anything about her predicament sitting here and dreaming. And though she, herself, had not been able to marry for love, she enjoyed the romantic sentiment. Even if this situation was stressful, there was no reason for her not to enjoy the festival. It could be used to solicit more information on her whereabouts. Maybe she could find her own men and women.
She stood up, her soft silk fabrics rustling at her movement. But she had but to make it a few yards when she noticed eyes upon her. Her appearance and regal manner drew attention. Some even began to wonder if she was part of King Hermit’s court to inspect the festivities. It also drew the less noble of hearts at the festival. A man purposefully stood in her way. Her eyes narrowed and she gave him a look of indignity. She promptly tried to ignore him and side step him when another man snatched her by her delicate wrist.
She was pulled and spun to look up at him. She could feel her heart beating in her chest. The heat inside rose with her nervousness. “Unhand me this instant!” It was a demand and her tone hid any fear that she might have felt. It had a soft foreign accent to it. She moved to snatch her wrist back, but found he did not let go.
“Tis a night for fun. The two of us can show you a good time.” The voice was greasy and ill intentioned.
She tried not to roll her eyes. Could they at least not sound like disgusting peasants that were going to take her to a barn.
“As generous as your offer might be, I assure you, I’ve no time for this kind of ‘fun’.”
[attr="class","character-spring-1e"]@cecil • Please aid me, dear knight.
Cecil was surprised to hear a woman’s voice, proper yet uncomfortable rising over the crowds. Cecil stopped. He needed only to follow the gazes of those around him to find the source. She was a well-kept woman in an elaborate dress, intricately embroidered and laden with ribbons, lace, and other layers. She had the unmistakable aura of nobility. Even without her manner of dress, she had herself with a certain grace that Cecil knew well.
The man that hounded her, however, had nothing but hate in their hearts. He stalked closer, seizing her wrist in an unbreakable gasp. The woman was clearly in distress.
Why wasn’t anyone doing anything?
”Tis a night for fun. The two of us can show you a good time.”
”As generous as your offer might be, I assure you, I’ve no time for this kind of fun.”
Cecil felt something hot swell in his chest. He was moving before he could second-guess himself.
He quickly closed the distance, pushing aside the crowd with the kind of authority that he had thought impossible only seconds before. The man’s eyes flickered to him briefly, and he saw his mouth sneer open in disdain. ”I wouldn’t get in the way if I was-”
Cecil seized the man’s arm, forced it upwards, then gave it a sharp twist. The man yelped in both shock in pain, releasing the woman instantly. Cecil stood stalwart, projecting the kind of strength that only a knight could. ”You will leave her be.”
The man was cursing. He snatched at his belt, pulling out a dagger with his good hand. Cecil moved swiftly, sidestepping him before striking at his throat and then kicking at the joint of his knee. The man choked, letting out a strangled curse as he fell to his knees. The knife fell by his feet, and Cecil quickly kicked it out of range.
”You will leave her be,” he said again. The man shot him an ugly look then a curse that Cecil wouldn’t dare repeat. He scrambled back to his feet and fled into the crowd. Cecil watched him coolly.
There were more eyes on him than ever now. With someone at his side worth protecting, he found it little trouble to ignore them.
”Are you hurt?” Cecil approached the woman, frowning. ”I know curative magicks should you be in need of them.”
[attr="class","character-spring-1d"]People in crowds have a hard time acting individually. Some simply did not care to help a stranger. Why get in trouble for another and risk hurting themselves? Best to turn a blind eye to it. Others thought another would handle it, thus there was no need to get involved. That’s what the guards were for, right? And still, others thought it was too odd an occurrence. Maybe it was another street performance? Certainly starting a scuffle here was unheard of, especially with a lady so well dressed that it drew eyes. It must be a play.
Lady Hilda struggled to retrieve her arm from her assailant. Her eyes went hard and she was unsure if she wanted to display her power before everyone. It would be simply to turn this man into a Gimme Cat. A creature that acts friendly but demands a diamond. Once it takes what it wants it steals away with no words of gratitude. Seemed a proper fit. But she did not want to scare those watching, nor display her potentials. Or worse, risk any chance of diplomacy with the royalty of this city.
And luckily, she would not have to exercise her abilities, as a new person joined the fray. She let out a gasp, her free hand raising to politely cover her open mouth. The new contender was in plain civilian clothes, but he moved with well trained instincts. There was more to him than met the eye. Her assailant released her at the silver-hair man’s defense. She quickly took two steps away and pressed her hands together at her chest. She could feel it thudding in her chest. She was shaking wasn’t she?
She tried to still herself by watching as this helpful stranger handled this assailant with an expert grace. Despite his clothing, he had to have some training as a guard or knight. She politely looked away from the violent interaction, as if it were something a lady should not witness.
Then a clattering of a knife drew her gaze back, but the man had fled under Cecil’s watchful sapphire gaze. She had been rescued.
And the people watching began to applaud and cheer loudly at the scene. They all thought it a play. She looked up at her liberator and as he approached, she lowered her eyes. Her hands spread her skirts as she dipped into an elegant curtsy. He deserved her humble gratitude. Her eyes were first to raise at his words. “I am unharmed, gentle Sir, thanks to your chivalry.”
The crowd silenced at this tender moment. Some popcorn scattered to the ground.
The lady straightened herself and fully regarded Cecil. He was strong with muscles that detailed his training. His manners and good will were on par to that of a paladin or noble knight. “Please accept my small gift, so that you may remember the good deed you did this night.” She reached up and removed the short veil from her headdress. It was of the softest, translucent fabrics. She delicately folded the gentle pink cloth. Part of it was to still her slight trembling.
She offered the medieval favor to him with an extended arm. An honor it was to have the veil of a Lady Regent! “May I ask for the name to whom I bestow my favor?” Then, as she passed it, she leaned in as if to offer him a kiss on the cheek. The crowd gasped and hooted. But instead of a kiss, she gently whispered to him. “Let the people here believe it was a grand play, so as not to spoil their mood.”
It was best to keep the people in good spirits. She then stepped back and resumed her position, with hands clasped and elbows bent.
[attr="class","character-spring-1e"]@cecil • Everyone is watching now.
Cecil felt something odd run through him. Pride? It was always nice to be appreciated though he was never one to expect such things. This was the same crowd that had stood back and watched her struggle, after all, and left her to some terrible fate. It was a knight’s duty to protect the defenseless. He supposed he couldn’t blame them for their more passive role.
The noblewoman gathered herself, the shock of her experience quickly fading to a more dignified poise. She curtsied, head slightly bowed. ”I am unharmed, gentle sir, thanks to your chivalry.”
Cecil smiled slightly. ”It was little trouble,” he returned. The crowd had quieted now, perhaps overtaken by the power of the exchange. A woman of her status lowering her head was no insubstantial matter. He felt the honor of it fully.
She offered him her veil, and he took it without hesitation. Then she moved in closer.
Cecil blinked in surprise. He didn’t have time to refute her before he felt her lips on his cheek.
Had she taken the wrong idea? Even after saving her from whatever those men had in mind, this went beyond gratitude. He opened his mouth to kindly reject her advances before he heard her whisper by his ear.
’Let the people here believe it was a grand play so as not to spoil their mood.’
Cecil felt his brow furrow. A...play?
”I don’t understand,” he said, ”Why would you…?”
A play. She wanted him to act as though...what? As though he had saved her? As though he had accepted her gratitude? Was this not expected of him?
All at once, that familiar sense of loneliness struck him. He felt as out of place as ever.
”Cecil,” he said. There was little life to it. ”I’m a knight of Baron.”
He felt the spirit drain from him. His sense of authority slipped away , leaving only Cecil -- not a knight, but a lost and wandering swordsman with no sense of purpose or direction. He wondered briefly how Tellah was weathering the night. He should never have left.
[attr="class","character-spring-1d"]She had misstepped somehow and she felt it full force. Where the villains had not struck the wind out of him, she had. She did not understand how she offended him. Perhaps, her feign kiss on the cheek was too forward. She knew in court it would be, but in plays it was what everyone wanted to see. And the way he stiffened at her words. She thought if he was a guard, he would understand keeping the peace. And his words stuck her odd. He was a knight after all. But she had never heard of this Baron. Where on earth was she? And what had she done to offend him, so?
The crowd was dispersing, satisfied at what they bore witness to. But she was not. She could not bear to hurt someone so kind-hearted. And where most ruled through power, she and Cid preferred to make choices based on the greater good and comfort of the people. She could not live with herself unless she tried to set things right.
“Sir Knight, please. Just a moment more.” She picked up the front of her skirts and hurried forward. She did not block his path, but she tried to at least walk beside him. “I meant no offense. You have my sincerest apologies. I never meant to hurt you.” Her voice was filled with remorse. He was the closest person to an ally she had tonight, and if he was a knight, then she could be earnest with him.
She stopped to look up at him. Her eyes were wide and concerned. A soft frown adorned her lips. No matter how frightened she was tonight, it was not for her to take it out on an innocent. But if he wanted to end the encounter, she would not stop him. “My danger and gratitude were true. I cannot bear to see such pride stolen from you, after your aid. You deserve every bit of it. Will you at least allow me to explain and make remedy?” There was a pause as she looked down with a humbling bow of the head. “If you wish to no longer look upon me, I shall respect your wishes.”
The crowd had already dispersed, going about their business and putting the grim business behind them, and Cecil wanted nothing more than to leave. He felt something strange. Some mixture of loneliness, embarrassment, and shame. Had this all been nothing but an act? Were his actions so foreign that none could see them as anything but a farce? This wasn’t Baron. It wasn’t Fabool or Mysidia or anywhere else that he knew well. Its customs were strange to him, and he was just as strange to its customs.
He longed more than ever for Rosa.
Still, Cecil stopped and turned to the noblewoman as she addressed him. She was distraught, intent upon catching up to him to offer her full apologies. She seemed uncertain as to what she had done to offend him.
She hadn’t offended. She had been in the right while he had played himself as a fool. A new creeping feeling joined the others. Guilt.
”Thank you for your kind words,” Cecil said. ”But I cannot accept your apology.”
All around them were laughing children, dancing women, and men swigging mugs of ale. Not far away, a girl twirled a baton with the ends lit aflame, and the lights cut a blazing path through the knight, its afterimage trailing like a ribbon behind it. Even in his newly bought civilian’s clothes, Cecil felt out of place.
”The fault is mine,” he said. ”You are a kind and noble woman. If you wish to speak, I will listen.” He would listen. Even as part of Cecil wished to do nothing more but turn and leave this place. He would never scorn a woman such as her no matter his personal stress. She had no fault here. His mood was strange and wavering before they had even laid eyes on each other.
[attr="class","character-spring-1d"]He stopped for her, but it was clear he was not at ease. Was she keeping him from someone? Perhaps it would have been better to let him go about his night on his own. She felt a pang of her own guilt thinking she had spoiled his entire night for him. The guilt worsened when he denied her apology. Her eyes lowered, though her face kept its calm, neutral mask. She took a step back, hands folded and ready to let him pass. It would be impolite to speak more at this point.
And she was not one to flaunt her power. She preferred gentle persuasion over powerplay, if the situation permitted.
But, it seemed he was the one to apologize in her stead. She shook her crowned head as he bid he would listen. He deserved her honesty and while she would not typically speak so openly to a stranger...well...her situation was quite strained. She did not mean to strain it more.
“It seems my host has brought me here without telling me their reason or where this is. I thought I knew all the kingdoms, and yet I do not recognize this King.” She turned her head to look over the crowds at the statue in the center of the square. “Even so, where I am from we are recovering from the consequences of war. Thus, we keep the peace to ease the hearts of the people.”
She lowered her eyes again for a moment as she thought before looking back up at him. “I only wished them to think it a farce for tonight’s passions so as not to stir up fear. If word got back to the Regent that his Lady was in danger…” Then, it could stir up dire consequences indeed. “I simply wished to allow the people to go about untroubled.”
She paused studying him a moment. “However, it seems I have troubled you.” She was still being polite, “If I am not interrupting your night, may I offer a lent ear?” She looked over at the festivities. All the things he was walking away from. “I wanted to enjoy the festival in which my gracious host abandoned me. I figured it would ease my nerves and allow me to start afresh on the morrow. I would do well if you were to join me?”
[attr="class","character-spring-1e"]@cecil • She tried.
[attr=class,bulk] Cecil listened then nodded slowly. She’d wished to keep the peace. She’d thought only of the fear that her attack might invoke in the people around her. It was, truly, a noble cause. It was reasoning that had been impenetrable to him and yet now seemed obvious. His place was in battle. It was to serve his kingdom with a sword. These thoughts, of compassion and diplomacy, were not in his nature. Yet still he understood.
”That was a kind gesture,” Cecil said. For the first time since he’d arrived, he smiled. It was a small smile, and yet he felt it lighten the weight on his shoulders. ”My kingdom was likewise torn apart by war. I know how it wears on a people. You were right to ease their burden.”
It was only now that Cecil realized how he’d overreacted. He’d been tense already, alone in this colorful and passionate place. He’d been burdened by his darkest thoughts, weighing heavier by the day. He’d been left lost and alone by companions that he could no longer call his own. His only friend was a dead man who suggested that perhaps Cecil had failed in his quest and Baron, Rosa, and the world itself had fallen.
He had been on edge and waiting to fall into darkness. He felt its pull even now.
”Thank you for your offer,” Cecil said. ”But I would never weigh my troubles onto another. There would be too much to tell.” Cecil clutched at his chest, eyes drifting down. She was a kind woman, truly, but his burdens were his own to bear. Just as she had not wanted to incite a panic among the people, he would not darken her heart with his pain.
”But I wouldn’t want you to come to harm. I’ll accompany you. There are too many thieves and brigands here for a woman to travel alone.”
[attr="class","character-spring-1d"]Cecil listened well. It went beyond training. He was a truly compassionate man. Hilda felt bad for upsetting him. Her gesture didn’t feel kind when watching her savior run from her. But it was nice of him to note it was with a sympathetic ear. He smiled and she could not help but return the smile in turn.
He turned away her lent ear, despite the inner torments he obviously felt. He was a stranger to her and she did not want to push him when he had no reason to trust her. Still, she drew herself up to full height again and regarded him a moment. “My offer stands all night, should you feel the need.” She said simply. Whatever his troubles were, she hoped he found someone to share them with. Left to fester, it could eat a man alive if kept to oneself. She watched it happen to many good men. And, perhaps, not so good one’s too.
But, if he would not open up to her, then the most she could do for him was offer an extraction. “Ah. You have my gratitude again, Sir Knight.” She would feel much safer with him by her side. Especially, when she was in such an unfamiliar place. Her stomach was doing knots and she was sure food would help aid her in settling it. “Do you have recommendations for a location to dine?” Hopefully some place without porridge or gruel or… She looked over at the food booths with the turkey legs. She would rather not have her hands touching her food.
She did want to look at the exotic market she spied before being snatched by the wrist. There had to be some manner of magical wards there. But, after the incident, it may be better to look closer toward the end of the night. “Also, where might I obtain a map of the events?” Hopefully, they wouldn’t release beasts in the streets like they did in Lindblum.
[attr="class","character-spring-1e"]@cecil • An knight to escort her <3 The lady is pleased.
