It was nearing midnight when a gentle knock echoed at Lyferia's door. Slowly, she eased it open to reveal a woman adorned in a woolen jadish coat, dampened by the recent rainfall.
"Master Pontius requests your presence," the woman announced before bowing respectfully and retreating into the night.
Lyferia glanced back at the sleeping form of Lest, then donned her coat and stepped out into the damp air.
The village streets teemed with an energy unlike any other day. Each home radiated with the warmth of celebration, honoring the auspicious occasion of Rugartha. Despite the gentle drizzle of rain, men and women flooded the streets, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic beat of music.
Even amidst the light rain, the revelers danced with abandon, their movements a testament to the joy that filled the air. Some had imbibed spirits since the afternoon, yet their steps remained sure, their spirits unquenched by the weather.
Conjured horses trotted through the village, bringing with them batches of Conjurers returning from the north fort. Some wore expressions of weariness, yet anticipation gleamed in their eyes as they longed to reunite with their families.
The other group of conjurers that arrived hailed from various regions. These individuals had been spared from joining the conjurer ranks due to their lack of skill. Instead, some served as messengers for the lords and others requiring long-distance communication, sending conjured sparrows to deliver messages and maintain diplomatic ties. Others found work as street painters, creating portraits for families wishing to be immortalized.
For these Xeldorians, this annual celebration marked a precious opportunity to return home once a year and revel in the embrace of loved ones.
As the war ended, astute lords recognized the potential of the skills possessed by the Navo'rians. With peace prevailing, they seized the opportunity to harness these talents for their own gain, employing these races and compensating them with donations from the kingdom.
faiths were strategically stationed across various regions, serving not only as healers but also as trusted stewards of the lords' estates. Their knowledge of healing sins proved invaluable in tending to the needs of both noble households and common folk alike.
The industrious craglins found their niche in agriculture and livestock herding, their innate connection to the earth ensuring bountiful harvests and well-tended flocks. Their tireless efforts sustained the villages and estates, earning them the respect and gratitude of all who benefited from their labor.
Yet it was the forgers who reaped the greatest rewards in the aftermath of war. With demand for sin infused arms and armor soaring, these skilled craftsmen thrived, honing their craft to perfection as they forged weapons of unparalleled quality. From swords to shields, their creations became sought after throughout the realm.
The journey to Pontius's house felt like an eternity for Lyferia, her steps growing heavier with each passing minute. Finally, the grand abode came into view, towering over the surrounding dwellings with its majestic stature. Intricately carved depictions adorned its walls, telling tales of Pontius's past exploits.
Lyferia rapped gently on the door, and a voice from within beckoned her inside. Entering, she found herself surrounded by a riot of colors and murals depicting Pontius in various daring poses. Pontius emerged from a nearby door, bearing two wooden cups which he placed on a small table.
"Perhaps you should sit," he suggested, but Lyferia remained standing, her posture tense with anticipation.
Without preamble, Pontius broached the purpose of her visit. "I assume you understand the reason for your presence here," he began. Lyferia met his gaze with a steely resolve, silently challenging him to continue.
YOU ARE READING
The Sins of the God King
FantasyWhen the thousand-year war against the God King and the Navo'ri Empire finally came to an end, the realm of Torryn opened its arms to the Xeldorians and other Navo'rians who chose to surrender. These erstwhile enemies were granted refuge, their live...