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

4.1 - Overture

The sound of music and loud chatters set a rather festive mood as the many guests walked around with their detailed and overly exquisite masks. Some chose to gossip on the current politics and economics with their accomplices, others preferred to dance with their partners and courtesans to the music, and the more opportunistic bunch sat in a corner to feast on the many dishes prepared for the event.

However, a certain man with a horned mask didn't seem to be interested in any of these activities. His black cape and long silver hair that reached his mid-back fluttered slightly as he stepped out of the noisy ballroom into the balcony and stared into the horizon.

The setting sun, which covered the city of Lierris in a crimson glow, made for a quite splendid view. Mansions lined the narrow streets directly below him. Clear and pristine canals flowed to the east, reflecting the light of the setting sun. The grand mansions almost hid the slums and their short, ash-covered chimneys with their splendor and magnificence. Several pygmy wyverns perched on the railings of the balcony. The moment the man in the mask approached, they quickly dispersed, flying towards the vast expanse of the red-tinged sky.

"Ah, Robert, is that you? How long has it been since we last met?"

The voice drew the masked man's attention to the speaker. He turned around to find out who it was. A thieran man, dressed smartly in a suit of monochromatic hues, stood at the doorway. He could not see the face of the man underneath the bird-like mask that partially obscured his face, but the thieran seemed to be a moderately young man when compared to the rest of his own kind. Perhaps around his thirties, judging by the rich deepness of his voice and his tall figure. Even so, those number of years would be considered slight in the scale of the yildeans- the masked man's own race. The man in the horned mask himself was probably twice his age, despite physically appearing younger than him.

"You do remember me, don't you?" the man asked, in an amiable voice. "It's me, Edgar!"

'Robert' stayed silent, giving the thieran man only a nod of acknowledgement. Edgar did not seem at all too nonplussed about this.

"Can't believe that the Provolones are selling this building soon, to the faeries of all people," the thieran man continued, disregarding the silence of the yildean man. He paused for a moment, bringing the chalice in his hand to his lips for a sip of his wine. He then offered a smile as he lowered the brim of his chalice.

"Considering the faeries' conservative fanaticism, I guess we won't be entering this place soon after that. Such a shame that this place got such a beautiful view."

Again, 'Robert' said nothing. He merely continued to give the young thieran a cold, unnerving gaze through his mask. This time, Edgar began to take notice of the yildean's reticence.

"Would you be kind enough to offer me something in the way of conversation?" The man demanded, his tone rising a little. However, the sheepish little smile that appeared on his lips indicated that he was merely being comedic. "Can't believe that my best friend would give me such a cold shoulder!" The young man gave a rather loud and hearty laugh as he sidled up to 'Robert' and gave him a nudge on his upper arm.

Shortly afterwards, a black and gold carriage pulled by two black horses entered the premises. 'Robert' looked past the wrought-iron railings of the balcony to train his eyes on the carriage. The carriage's door was emblazoned with a sigil featuring two rodents engraved on a coin. A carriage, painted in the jarring contrasts of white and black, tailed the black and gold carriage.

"Ah, it looks like they've arrived, Rob! It is best that we greet them."

Edgar then left the balcony and entered the ballroom, leaving 'Robert' alone. The yildean man waited a good few seconds. His pale fingers, the color of ivory, curled for a moment over the wrought-iron railings. He was careful to not expose his fingers to what remained of the sun's dying light, for yildean skin was very sensitive towards the light of the sun. The long nails embedded on his fingers grazed the metal. Then, he released the railing and followed Edgar into the ballroom without a word.