Fayde: The Marauders of Vesper

Chapter 5: Preparations and Warnings

I am completely  and utterly tired... my eyes hurt and my legs are about to give up.... Still, I can't abandom my readers! hahahah!

New chapter up!! Prepare for a little bit of sad story... just a little!

Theo

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     In the span of three days, the citizens of Dusktown prepared for the princess’ arrival. Dust from the streets had been swept away and banners were hanged atop the towers and rooftops.  Colorful ornaments entangled the steel lamps that stood at the side of the street as jesters practiced their tricks for the children to enjoy.

     Under the orders of the mayor, Dusktown had put on a mask of joyful festivities. Everyone knew better. It was nothing but an attempt to please royalty, hoping the capital won’t degrade or slander the poor town even more. Still, everyone cooperated. The illusion of happiness and the sight of their children’s brimming smile was enough of a reason for them to play along.

    At daylight, the Goodfellows made their move under the guise of their secret identity. Toralf, being the guard captain, was in-charge of security. The Orc assigned the men under him their posts when the princess and her company arrive.  Of course, he assigned them to places benefiting both the good of the town and to benefit his fellowship’s plan.

     Brisko had closed his shop to the public. Inside his walls, he prepared the tools and weapons the Goodfellows might need for their plan to succeed. Day in and day out, his forge burned with coal and fire as he perfected a small tool. Nothing but a glass orb—inside it, a fog seemed to turn slowly like a small tornado.

     Ko’la was out in the Emerald path, training with the tools the Elves were known for—a bow and arrow. Thick trees surrounded him and the sound of birds chirping and the branches rustling was all that he could hear. At daylight he practiced, arrow loaded on his bow as he took a deep breath.  As his fingers released the string, the arrow traveled upward. Higher and farther it went, nearly three hundred meters away. There, it stuck an apple—not by the red fruit, but by the pedicel where it was hanged from the tree. The fruit fell down the grassy ground unscathed and far away, Ko’la had a grin on his face.

     Not far from the elf was Naomi, also practicing her art. On the open hill surrounded by trees she stood. Her right hand held a staff adorned with a magical purple crystal on its tip. Where she pointed her staff, a gust of wind blew, strong and weak. Her loose dress danced with the breeze she manipulated and created. The trees around her seemed to wave as the branches rustled with the winds.

     As for Damian, the leader of the band, He had some other tasks.

     “Lunch is ready!” Damian shouted from across the room. “I made cabbage soup with a bit of mushroom this time. It’s a bit tastier than the last.”

     He was home—a farm two miles away from Dusktown. A small hut made of wood and stone, two bedroom separated by a bamboo wall and a small living room. Outside was a wide patch of land where Damian and his uncle grew their crops. 

     In his bed, a very old man laid and rested.  His long white hair left un-brushed and on his chin was a thick beard. The rest of his frail body was covered by his blanket.

     Damian entered the room; in his hands was a small bowl of hot soup. The old man greeted him with a smile most sincere. For the young man, it was enough of a reward for his work.  He gave the old man the bowl of soup and a spoon. As he accepted the food, his hands trembled slightly.

     “Come child,” The old man lifted his thin arms, gesturing the Damian to sit beside him. “Eat with me.”

     I’m not that hungry, uncle,” Damian shook his head. “I had a heavy breakfast.” and started to walk away.