Of The Line Of Estelondo: Percival's Tale.

Chapter Fifteen: Of Learning and Growth

It had been nearly a month since their exit on the Skybridge, but Faramaureá and Percival arrived in front of the hills of Granigeleb, just three hundred units from the Castle of Chameleons. The Castle's walls rose in grandeur, twenty units of vertically stacked dolostone which defended the villagers in times of assault. They are nothing compared to the walls of our home, though, thought Percival, his mind filled with images of passageways and corridors carved and meticulously sculpted out of sandstone and obsidian.

As his mind wandered, Faramaureä waved a hand in front of his face, and, assuming that he had fallen into the realms of Martamo, she reached up and seized the reins of the horse they had taken from Le Elyanme. As she coaxed the horse onward, she thought to herself: A new home, a new day, a new opportunity, and most importantly, a new escape from Gary Gygax. She shivered at his name, and the motion of it drew her brother back.

"Sorry, Percival. I did not mean to wake you."

"Wake me?" Percival took hold of the reins with a puzzled look toward his younger sister. "I was not asleep."

She returned his look, not in disbelief, but in bemusement. "Well, awake or not, you clearly were not conscious of our surroundings. I managed to get ahold of the reins without you noticing." She cast her eyes upon the carvings around the gate. "It always amazes me how simplistic the artwork is here. Its beautiful in its own right, but they changed so little."

Percival looked and saw that it was true. Around the gate was a very simple vine spiral which followed the natural arch of the rounded-top door. The doors were perpetually open, in fact, it had been theorised that they were impossible to close anymore, due to rust and warping. He shrugged, "I will be the first to admit, Faramaureä, doubt I would have given the artwork a second glance amid our struggles."

She smiled at his words but shook her head in incredulity. "Unlike you, I have not lost my ability to see the beauty of our surroundings. You live in the past and future, but rare are the times that you acknowledge the moment."

"It is hard to acknowledge the moment when I am trying to plan to continue our lives, Faramaureä."

"A life is not worth living unless you spend your time living it. If you spend all of your time planning; you will never actually apply those plans to the present."

Percival shook his head in amusement. "I try to save your life and you criticise me. Maybe I should let you lead us."

"You think I am incapable of doing so?" Faramaureä chided him facetiously. 

"Incapable? No. As capable as I am," Percival gave her a cock-sure smile. "No."

She gripped the reins in false indignation, and urged the horse forward with a "hrumph," for emphasis.

As the horse entered the gates, they got a better view of the party that was occurring inside of the city. Dismounting,  Faramaureä led the horse into the stables to their left and grabbed her bag, while Percival tied up the horse. She walked out into the city square and looked around.

Everywhere she looked, there were colourful garments and flamboyant dances; the citizens appeared to be dancing around a float printed with hundreds of faces. What is this festival? She walked into the crowds, and her hand was promptly seized by a young girl, who began whirling her around the cobbles of the square.

"Wha-" was all Faramaureä had time to say, before the girl left her mid-spin, leaving her lost in the crowd of drifting changelings. She got ready to call her brother but she stopped. What would I call him by? I certainly cannot afford to use his real name, nor can I use our Drakorian names.