Heir of Cinders [FADING EMBERS #1] - ON HOLD

1.2 - The Coronation

There was a period of free time before the tournament started, given to allow the combatants to prepare.

Faisuri took advantage of this time for sightseeing, as she had no battle to prepare for. She knew her schedule would be packed for the rest of the day. This might be the only chance she would have to go and experience the commoners' festival, and she was determined not to miss out on the lovely little event outside of the palace halls. Having spent her entire life being raised among the upper-class society, she found the festival quaint in a pleasant way- a nice change from the restrictions of aristocracy.

The festival was still mostly under the process of being set up, but the bazaar was already up and running. The merchants would definitely not miss the opportunity of selling as much of their goods as they could before the day was done, and that meant beginning to sell them as early as possible. "The early wyvern gets the sparrows," or so they said. The hustle and bustle of the bazaar overwhelmed Faisuri. The calls of merchants promoting their goods filled the air. Various scents filled her nose, from the delectable scent of bread to the fragrance of perfumes.

As she walked through the narrow cobbled roads between the stalls, she noticed that merchants from outside of Althewyn had also made their way to the capital for the coronation festival. During important events, Althewyn would open their gates to all. It was a sign of goodwill; that they were willing to cooperate with other nations. There were not only thieran merchants in the bazaar, but also those of other races. Faisuri could spot many rodent merchants among the crowd of stalls and caravans, some of them even selling their goods on a tarp sprawled on the ground sandwiched between two stalls. She'd expected nothing less from a nation of opportunistic merchants. There were also a few hyrians, hailing from the mountains to the far west. The small men came up only to her waist, yet the steel they sold far outweighed them. She saw a stall of giant battle axes and razor-sharp blades, and men of Althewyn flocking around their stall.

A fine decision to come here, she thought. Men of Althewyn were proud warriors, and hyrian steel was the best there was in the continent.

The merchants tried to offer Faisuri their goods as she walked past them. Flowers of the Vale, gemstones from the mines of Iria, expensive silks... It was her attire that drew their eyes to her, she thought. She looked like a noble lady, and nobles were associated with having fat pockets. She spared each of them a glance, though moved on without purchasing them. Beautiful and attractive as they were, there had always been a flaw that turned her off. She didn't like the color, for example, or there was a chip in the gem. The only time she stopped was when she heard an odd noise. It sounded like the ululating howl of a varg, mournful and chilling. Curious at where the noise came from, she trailed the sound to its source.

A muscular beaver man, standing half a head taller than her, stood behind a stall. He was covered from his head down to his bare paws with dark brown fur. A large vertical gash ran down over his milky left eye. He had a wooden whistle in his mouth, carved with the head of a canine creature that resembled the common wolf, though it had a longer snout and a row of sharp teeth that protruded outside of its mouth. When he blew, the sorrowful cry of a varg sounded again. Faisuri stood there, in front of the stall, staring at the whistle in wonder.

"Like the sound, Miss?"

Faisuri's heart gave a jolt at those words. They were spoken in the native tongue of her home- Halimun. It felt so strange hearing those words in a voice other than her Aunt Farisa's or her own. Glancing at the person who spoke, she had to slide her gaze down to find a chipmunk standing behind the stall. It was almost comical to see him standing next to the beaver man, his entire height only coming up to Faisuri's waist. He gestured towards his stand. A messy pile of similar wooden whistles were stacked onto it, carved with other animal heads. She smiled at the chipmunk man.