The Kingdom of Liticea: The Sorcerer Prince

Chapter Eight: Morning in Soot City

Prince Tauron's army was not the only convoy to arrive at Blackfield. From all across the kingdom and beyond; traders, players, musicians, and carnies converged on the Soot City to partake in The Festival of Steel. Lasting three days; beginning with a feast on the night of the anniversary of the building of Yanton Forge.

The travelers came the next morning, long after the army had settled down camp. Being woken from their sleep by the sound of joyous music, the soldiers took immediate interest. The field where the festivities would take place was already filled to the edge with tents, shops, and amusements being built up for the next day. Along the wall and along the edge of the construction zone, the people of Blackfield and others observed, eager to catch a glimpse of the excitement to come for The Festival of Steel was the great holiday for all citizens of the City of Smoke.

The excitement woke both Prince Tauron and Captain Noc, both of whom accompanied each other to observe the construction of the festive grounds. Tauron had changed out of his typical dress; a light coat of arms and a blue cloak bearing the banner of the Helflite family, and instead wore simple leather vest and legging, but kept the family emblem on his cloak. Noc continued to wear her Brukalil uniform as she and the King's heir observed the site.

"I've forgotten that this week was the Festival of Steel," the Prince was astounded he missed that date. His new position clouded his memory of the calendar, "The King and Queen would go with me to join Lord Dayvey for the feast every year. General Velrock and his children would accompany us," the captain kept cold and stern.

"Have you ever been, Captain Noc?"

"Long ago," she replied briskly, "My father took my mother and my family. Didn't really care for it, my Prince."

"That's unfortunate."

"I don't care much for this city, or it's holidays," proudly she announced.

"I assume this is typical of the Brukalil, captain," the Prince assumed.

"We make it our business to avoid the Champions and their petty festivities."

"'Petty festivities?" Tauron raised an eyebrow.

"With all due respect to your pleasures," she added, unruffled by the Prince's stare. She was used to being given disapproving looks from superiors. Every Brukalil had to when they stepped out of Raenna.

"My father enjoyed it very much though," she admitted.

"I'm pleased at least one of you did. By the way, I would be honored if you would join us for the feast tomorrow night."

"I make it my business to stay away from the knights, my Lord, therefore I must decline."

"Come now," the Prince pleaded, "Then consider this a chance to remedy old divisions."

Noc laughed, "My lord, those divisions are beyond me or anyone. They certainly have no desire to."

"Enjoy your old venison then," Tauron said, "Why must you have so much animosity towards the Champions?"

"Reasons that cannot possibly explain, my Lord," Noc said, "Ask Cassius, though. He might be able to give a thorough answer. He's had plenty of time to read I'm sure."

"Perhaps he does. Please join us for the feast, Captain. Lord Dayvey asked me to bring my officers."

"I prefer to feast with my men. All the company a Brukalil needs."

The Prince faced her in the eyes, giving a stern look much like the one the captain wore, "I'm afraid I must insist, Captain. Lord Dayvey asked us to join him and it would be rude to disappoint would it?"