No Sleep for the Dead || ONC 2022

T-Minus Six Days and One Hour

The dead were not going to be happy.

It was obvious to anyone who laid their eyes on the red tablecloths but somehow, unsurprisingly, Aimos seemed to be the only one with eyes and any shred of common sense.

"Who ordered these? And who accepted these? I specifically mentioned royal blue and silver."

Era stood beside him, with a tablet clutched to her chest. "The Unicorns complained that they felt under-represented. So I asked our designer to put a hint of pink in the sheets." She shrunk back into herself, making her small frame even smaller. "I didn't think they'd dye it red."

Aimos pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a deep breath. Unicorns, with their neverending snobbery, were going to drive him crazy. "Era. Next time you decide to change an entire colour palette, please, for the love of the Old One, consult with me first."

The younger Dragon nodded, her dark fringes bobbing over her forehead.

"Now go and fix this mess."

She did not need to be told twice and thank the Old One for that. Aimos had seventy-three tasks to complete that day and doing an incompetent pack member's work was not one of them.

Which did nothing to stop more incompetent pack members from running to him with their problems:

"The Centaurs are asking for the Deluxe tents we have assigned to the Pegasi. What do I say?"

"The Nymphs are complaining about the lack of bathtubs in their washrooms. What do I do?"

"Several Mysticals are concerned about their safety if Medusa will be visiting. What should I tell them?"

"The Unicorns are asking me to tell you that they won't eat any root vegetables in their dishes."

Aimos felt his ears ringing with an oncoming headache and it wasn't even noon yet.

Till a week ago, Aimos could hardly sleep from the excitement of getting started. Souls Day, or the Festival of the Dead, was organised every two and a half years, on the occasion of Blue Moon. This two-day event witnessed the largest gathering of Mysticals from around the world. For the Dragons, the organisers of this Festival, it was a matter of pride and prestige, to show to the rest of the magical world who held real power.

The organisers varied from year to year but the responsibility was always given to one of the Greater Draconic families – direct descendants of the Old One who held the seats at the High Council.

This was the first time in history that a Lesser family had been chosen. Aimos' mother had to pull a plethora of strings, employ flattery, manipulation and even a bit of grovelling to make this happen. They were a big, wealthy family who was stuck in the lower ranks simply due to their lack of royal blood but this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity could change that. It could show the world that the Firestone family was at par with, if not better than, the Greater Families.