This morning's sky was gentle. A thin layer of pink grey clouds protected the inhabitants of Pyria from the looming sun's glares.
Pyria was a small town in the Kingdom of Blargon. It was a town surrounded by mountains with the south face narrowing down through a valley. To travel to Pyria, visitors would have to travel through another bigger more prosperous town of Hetala.This valley town had the most beautiful gardens, meadows, hills and forests. And it was here that most visitors came to stay for culture, leisure and sightseeing. There was a generous length of border between the enchanted forest and Hetala, which hunters used to travel between the mountains and this town during hunting season, so no one really needed to come to Pyria for anything.63Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjx7cNTDuFg
The one thing Pyria had to boost was its ancient Enchanted Castle on its North face deep in the mountains. The royal family sometimes held balls there during the winter when the mountains were treacherous terrain to traverse, and only esteemed guests could fly or magic into the castle, and the time or date of such balls were always a mystery to the common folks.
The sun's light shy of it's full glow, meant it was too early to call on neighbors, only servants from the rich manor houses and estates clambered alone or in pairs dragging bags of flour, grocery and firewood. Some children, out of place for so early in the day, ran around an old broken fountain in the old town square. Their mothers nearby gathering garbage from the street to bring to a large collection spot. The square was once very grand, when the town was yet young and green. Trees grew haphazard around a cobbled walkway margining this fountain, which too was pearly white, grand and a popular spot for leisuring. Now markets and commercial buildings extended around the once center of the town, replacing most of its grass and other flora.
The cobbled walkway around around the fountain was in ill repair. The children hopped over such a trench in the side of the fountain as it was their habit to do every morning, but that particular day the little one of the group misjudged the distance to this hole, stepped onto a loose rock and fell on her knees.
Mother who was used to her children's screams turned and chanted a few words to calm them down in vain. A young man observed the scene for a minute from afar before motioning his companions to investigate. One of his companions attempted to dismiss the issue but the young man insisted. Two of his companions helped the child up; the presence of strangers surrounding the child frightened her, whose mother alarmed by the sudden change in pitch of her screams dropped her sacks and ran to her side.
"Take better care of your children woman. This one's got a scrape on her knee," said one of the men lifting the child by the arm.
"Forgive me children sir, they s'only playin' " cried the woman and pulled her child into her arms.
After the men walked away from the square, a woman carrying a basket of eggs, stopped next to the mother and child. She put down her basket, crouched down and whispered some words of comfort to the pair.
"There there," she said. "It doesn't look very bad. Just wash it in the stream in the hill."
When the child continued crying, she pulled out a note and held it out to the woman. It had an address and a name on it.
"My master can make an ointment for your child. It'll relieve her pain and cool the wound." At this the woman glared at her. She snatched the paper from her hand and threw it into the broken fountain.
"We don't want anything," snapped the mother, pulling her crying child away. "vultures" she rasped.
"But we don't take money for ointments..." but she didn't hear this last sentence.
After the child and mother disappeared, Olive's attention was pulled away by zealous laughter down an alley between Perna's Potion Place and Barkley's Bread and Bread. It was the same group of men who first approached the child. She watched them disappear around the corner of the last building.
For supposedly poor haggardly domestic help, they were far too lively for this early in the morning and their clothes not battered or dirty enough. They were probably the manservants of a prosperous families, but such help were not normally seen out of the house so early. Olive shrugged and carried on.
Darren, the young man leading the rowdy group turned a sapphire ring on his finger, deep in contemplation. He shook off dust from his golden hair after passing under a cobwebbed doorway of a dingy looking store in the back alley of Devil's Street. The room he stood in was cooler than the street somehow despite a roaring fireplace in a makeshift chimney. Darren suspected the fire to be fake, and avoided looking at the blue flames.
From witnessing the ease with which he conjures fireballs a bystander would never guess that magic was his least favorite lessons. He disliked magic, ever since his older sister set fire to his hair for ruining her dress at the age of 4. He would even resort to fighting and throwing tantrums, even if throwing tantrums was second nature to him anyway, just to avoid his magic lessons. His prowess to such a degree could only be a testament to the great skill in instruction of his master and patience of his childhood friend June who forced him to practice.
Today Darren entered this dingy store to find an elixir in order to get up to mischief and not get caught. June had similar ideas for fun for the day. Day break was required to ensure everyone would be witness to their shenanigans, especially dear mother.
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