The Half Light

[2.0] The City

2
~ The City ~

The year 2034 post bellum
Thirteen weeks till Moonset Equinox

The music of the market moved of its own accord, weaving between the bustling crowds of wealthy shoppers and slick-fingered thieves.

Aryial came upon a small square where the music rang out loudest, a whirling circle of skirts and dancers twirled to the vigorous playing of a fiddler and his companion on the boar-skinned hand drums.

She laughed as she linked arms with a water nymph, kicking her feet out as the jig picked up speed and she was swept into the dancing.

When the piece ended, everyone burst out in applause and laughter as coins dropped into the fiddler's basket.

He started a new piece as new market-goers joined in.

Aryial left the dancing, watching the revelry with a smile.

How wonderful it was here, so full of life and laughter. She hadn't been able to come to the market since she arrived.

The market was open on Sundays only and there were merchants from all over the realm, selling everything from soul crystals to mechanical birds.

Aryial chose one of the branching roads to wander down, vendors and their merchandise occupying the sides, some sitting on blankets and cushions with their stock laid out on the floor while others had proper stalls that displayed their goods in eye-catching ways.

Faded cloths were strung above the road between the two buildings on either side of the street to keep out most of the sun.

Aryial peered at the blue skies between the makeshift canopies.

Based on the sun's relative position, she figured she still had around two tolls before she had to return to the manor.

"Buy the luxurious pelt of a whisperer's leopard! It is softer and more supple than any ordinary leopard pelt!" A vendor was seated on blankets lain on the cobblestone roads, his wares laid out proudly for inspection.

Aryial was intrigued and came to gaze at the majestic pelts, furs and feathers that were on display.

There was a cloak of black fabric with the most beautiful, dark blue feathers adorning the top.

The vendor, aware that he had captured Aryial's interest, starting talking about his wares and the animals he collected them from.

Aryial interrupted, asking what a whisperer was. The vendor grinned, leaning forward in enthusiasm.

"In the East, lies the kingdom of Lusia, one of the kingdoms in the Eoerian coalition," the vendor spoke with the same practiced charm that lured shoppers into buying his exotic and outlandish merchandise. "There are these bizarre people called whisperers, who each have an animal bound to their very soul. Rumours say that both the whisperer and their Janan can communicate wordlessly."

Aryial was enraptured, her gaze flitting to the black leopard pelt that the vendor claimed shone like the black sands of Dalerc'ha.

How magnificent the beast must have been to have such a pelt!

As enthralled as she was by the vendor's stories, Aryial was bothered by one thought. "What is it like for a whisperer to lose their Janan?"

Eager to sell something, the vendor replied quickly that it was like having half your soul ripped from you.

However, realising that his statement now caused Aryial to cringe away from his goods, the vendor tried to retract his words and enchant her with more stories of the Eastern kingdoms instead.