The Roar of the Crowd

From beneath the awning outside the local pub, Yuri Lowell couldn't see the center of the festivities. He could, however, see the crowd forming in the cobblestone square. The golden lights strung from the nearby windows, streetlamps, and along the sidewalks illuminated the town, casting a gentle glow in the early evening air.

          Yuri inhaled, tasting the scents and flavors of the festival. Popped corn and sweet pastries danced through the air, making his mouth water. The food was one of Yuri's favorite parts of festivals, especially near the Knight's barracks. Some of the locals seemed to believe that providing excellent food for the Knights' consumption offered them better protection. Yuri didn't agree with that, by principle, but he couldn't deny that he was a sucker for decent cooking.

          The chill of early autumn kissed his cheeks. Yuri liked the cooler months. His favorite clothing style tended to be heavy and dark—although joining the Knights had required him to wear pale blues and ivories as part of a uniform—and such a style was better suited for crisper weather.

          Yuri slowly wandered through the crowd. He couldn't remember what this particular festival was intended to be celebrating, but it didn't matter. He was just grateful for the night off. Usually he drew the short straw and got stuck on duty during these kinds of events.

          This time, however, fortune had smiled on him. It'd taken all of Yuri's restraint to avoid whooping out loud when he got the notice that he'd be released from duty for the night, but was expected to report back first thing in the morning. Not much of a vacation, but anything was better than marching around in heavy armor and saying, "Yes, sir!" to everything his superiors said.

          Yuri drifted around the assembly of people. It was almost nice to see how the locals and the Knights mingled during these events. Even those who didn't enjoy the Knights' presence seemed to forget whatever conflicts they had in favor of a good celebration. Yuri caught sights of that infamous pale blue uniform speckled around the group, Knights chatting and laughing and drinking with friends and family.

          Taking advantage of the free time to its fullest, Yuri had dressed in a plain black tunic and a pair of slacks. The only thing he kept from his Knight's uniform was his boots, because they were sturdy and they made him feel like a bad-ass.

          A towering bonfire effigy had been built from a mountain of dry sticks. It smoked in the center of the square, an inferno of reds and oranges and silvers. The cracking of the branches as the flames consumed them lanced through the music wheedling from a patched-together stage, where an assortment of musicians cranked out fast-paced melodies for the crowd to dance to.

          Despite all the excitement of the festivities—the bonfire, the dancing, the delicious food and pretty lights—Yuri felt his good mood begin to sour.

          Flynn, by some stroke of luck, had also been given the night off. Yuri mentioned that they should attend the festival together, after being informed that he and his companion were fortunate enough to share a common day without work.

          But Flynn, ever the rule-follower, had informed Yuri he intended to avoid most of the festivities. He didn't plan to spend long outside, and believed Yuri would have a far better time if they were separated. Flynn, it seemed, didn't want to hold Yuri back from enjoying his time at the festival—but Yuri's smile had dropped all the same. He'd shrugged it off as no big deal and slipped into bed, turning his back to Flynn and staring daggers into the wall for the rest of the cold evening.

          Yuri frowned. Everyone else seemed to be dancing and enjoying the night, but he couldn't shake his head clear from the rejection that sank into his soul.