Tale of Four

Stepping out, Tristan saw the grand welcome that awaited the Royal family. Lords and commonfolk waited and walked around, happily enjoying their day, taking as much advantage of the king’s generosity as they could, using it as a chance to ignore the hardships of their daily lives. Stalls and tents filled the empty field, each one letting off the smell of food and alcohol, laughter echoing from within some and quiet prayer from others.

Music echoed, overlapping with one another until it became an incomprehensible noise that couldn’t distinguish between which genre they wished to play. Looking around, most of the tents and stalls looked the same, but from a few, he saw the banners of Lords, four sticking out in particular. A green five-leaf clover sat on top of a gold background, the sigil of House Clover. A large brown paintbrush dripping with rainbow paint on a white background, the sigil of House Makepiece. Next to it, a bright white circle with red streaks coming off it on a blue background. The Sigil of House Sunflare. Finally, a red bridge on a black background. The sigil of House Blackwell.

Each one flew high in the sky, as if trying to pierce the clouds, fighting and competing with one another to prove they were better. There was pride in each of them as they looked down upon all the banners of all the minor lords beneath them, subtly telling them that they did not exist on the same plane as them, yet behind them all, atop a small fort, the Cosmation banner.

A horn blew to announce the arrival of the Royal family. Tristan leaned against the carriage and watched. Many minor lords walked over, bowing and greeting Anton as he put up with their flattery. The common folk bowed but were quickly sent off to enjoy their day and not bother the royalty. Tristan waited, and finally he saw them, the first Great Lord to arrive.

A man and woman, with identical looks, walked forward. Their hair and eyes, green, greener than the grass itself, a feeling of vitality around them. If one looked carefully, their footsteps didn’t leave behind crushed grass and flowers, but instead stronger ones that could survive against the harshest winds.

”Your Grace.” Lord Clover pushed his way through the crowd of minor nobles without care, his twin sister following behind. Despite both being in their late thirties, they were both beautiful, not looking a day over twenty. Both wore brown: Lord Clover wore brown trousers and a shirt with the top button undone, an outfit unbefitting of a Lord, and his sister wore a dress cut shorter than expected, just below her knees. On their outfits, a golden stem woven into the fabric with clovers periodically attached to it. ”We were wondering when you would host an event. We had hoped you wouldn’t be boring when the tales about you are so interesting.”

Lord Clovers’ voice lacked any respect, instead carrying a playfulness in it that didn’t fear the man he was talking to like the minor lords. Rather, it made Tristan frown, hearing a little more in it. ’I heard he lies with anyone, no matter their gender, but to even try to talk in a way to entice the king is insane.’

Tristan turned his head and watched as Anton didn’t show a change at Lord Clover’s disrespect, ”I am glad you could arrive, Lord Clover. I heard from my son that your daughter has been visiting the Palace lately.” Anton’s lips curled up, ”I would appreciate being told of your family’s arrival at my house before you do so.”

”This is the first I am hearing of this.” Lord Clover grabbed his forehead and sighed, shaking his head with a small smile, ”But Silvia must be like her father. Chasing desire before knowing when to stop.”

”I never said which one.” Lord Clover chuckled and stepped back, pushing his sister forward.

”Your grace, my gorgeous sister, Sandra.” Saying with utmost respect, he held his chin up in pride.

Although she lowered her head, Tristan saw it wasn’t as deep as it should have been, soemthing only picked up when looking closely, ”I have heard many tales about your time in the Silent Hills, your Grace. Your stories are quite amazing, but they do seem to miss out on the part about who supplied those armies.”

Anton chuckled, his eyes incredibly cold, ”I have heard many things about you, Lady Sandra. What is the song they sing about you? The Lady with Too Many Seeds. A song my men loved to sing when we were stuck in the hills, eating our horses when we ran out of food because our supplies never arrived.”

Sandra smiled and chuckled, holding her hand out for Anton. Anton didn’t refuse to take it and kissed the back. ”Thank you for honouring this event, but I wish to rest.” The twins said nothing and stepped to the side, letting Anton walk through, heading towards the fort in the distance, flying the Cosmaton banner.

’I didn’t expect there was such a lack of respect from the great Lords.’ His gaze shifted towards the others who didn’t even show themselves, ’At least Anton has the Valleys as staunch allies.’

Shaking his head, Tristan took a deep breath and slowly followed behind Edmund as he walked to his resting place, deciding to stay with him during the tournament. He had nowhere else to go, and even though he wanted to walk around and enjoy the event, he couldn’t shake his fear completely, only feeling relaxed by Edmund’s side.

”Young Ones.” As they walked, a man wearing a hood walked over, his voice low. ”Do you wish for your future to be read?” Tristan frowned and was about to shake his head, but was stopped as Edmund stepped forward with a thin smile.

”Are you a Magi?” Edmund asked as the old man dryly chuckled, his crusted eyes finally opening.

”I have studied the arcane.” Tristan frowned. ’He’s not a Magi then. A fake Magi or an evil sorcery. Maybe someone the Magi kicked out of their order.’

”He smells like Magi, Tristan.” Annabell quietly said into Tristan’s ear. ”Reading fate may be fake, but he definitely has the same power Magi do.” Tristan nodded and put his fears to the back of his mind, realising it was his fear of the outside guiding him. ’I can’t just let it guide me.’

With a deep breath, Tristan stepped forward as the man took Edmund’s hand. Without having to say anything, Annabell prepared herself just in case the old hooded man did soemthing. ”A coward will become brave. Fear will become hope. Light will descend, but the well will have dried.” The old man said with a thin chuckle and turned to Tristan. Holding out his hand, Tristan hesitated for a moment before holding his hand out and letting the man hold it.

”The sky dims.” His voice was unlike when he spoke to Edmund, carrying a slight hint of horror and delight. A mixture of disbelief and anticipation, ”Dreams will come true and the worst alongside it. A burden, a moment, waited for your entire life.” Tristan’s eyes widened.

’He knows.’

”It comes. A choice, not your own, but decided by your actions, will occur.” The old man looked into his eyes. One was clear, a brown eye that didn’t match his old age, but the other was sunken, so sunken that shadow covered and hid it. ”Praised for what is false. Plagued by what is true. A burden, heavier than most.” The man stopped as Tristan pulled his hand back in fear.

”Let’s go.” Edmund was confused but nodded, giving the old man a silver coin as he walked off, following behind.

”Tristan. Whats wrong. It’s just a trick these people do. I’ve seen it many times.”

’No. He knows about that voice. He knows I am waiting. How?’ Looking at Annabell, he saw the bird with an equally perplexed expression.