Chapter 12 - Festival of Light

Streamers fluttered in the morning wind, that was the natural state of things. There was colour in the Blackbaast, the undercity and the streets around the palace alike. Children ran as fast as children could run, there was sounds of joy in the air.

The undercity was rife with colourful flora, that was simply how the environment of the Blackbaast was. Trees with vibrant purple and blue leaves sprouted from the sides of stone buildings, branches shooting outwards like crackling lightning. Glowing bugs the size of small coins fluttered about, the buzzing of their quickly-vibrating wings whistling out into the air like placated drones, calm and tranquil.

Even though Masha certainly did seem tired, as Eshent had anticipated, the look on his face was filled with exuberance! Past the dark circles under his eyelids, his eyes glistened. Eshent often forgot this part of his older brother, that he too was a person who enjoyed things…

Was this the life that awaited him, to only reap joy out the few events they attended per year? 

Still, if it meant that Corrin could live an enjoyable life, this was fine… he only wished Masha could also live life well.

"What shall we do first?" Eshent turned towards Corrin. 

She had already been bejeweled by countless necklaces made of polished and painted wooden beads, a crown made of heraflowers, golden in their bloom, and various patchwork cloths had been draped over her shoulders. This was at no cost, it was the charity and celebration of various artisans.

Corrin pointed ahead of them, towards the left-side of the street, where a large veranda concealed performers in shade as they stood before a large jeering crowd. Many men egged on these performers as they brandished sharp knives and flaming torches, tossing them high into the air. Another dashed through the air high above to catch one of these torches, his hand alighting as he brushed it against the surface of the torch. In another moment, he landed cleanly and stood before the audience, opening his mouth wide as he plunged the handful of flames into his open gullet, swallowing loudly before raising his hands exuberantly.

The crowd watching this, along with Corrin and Masha, cheered wildly. 

Immediately afterwards, a hawker with a large half-open box strapped to his lower abdomen approached with a bright air about him, smiling wildly as he propositioned the siblings. 

"Star-petal tarts, Madame, Sir. Treacle-glazed bread and heraberry buns. Would you care to try? Two copper pennies per." He had an odd look about him, a snaggletooth on the left side of his lip that bit deep into his skin. His hairs grew in patches on his balding head, and despite his kindly look, he gave off the appearance of a monster more than man. Still, this was just Eshent's judgment, he was an asshole. 

Of course, not all people celebrating the Festival of Light, the Witch-King's return, could give away their goods for free so easily. It wasn't a matter of charity or goodwill, just that there were many people who had to live below many other's means, and this was all that could be done to ensure the goodwill of their families. 

Masha himself knew this well, so as certain as was his heart, he reached into his pocket and procured a small coinpurse, wrestling out four copper pennies before placing them in the man's palm. "Two tarts, please." 

The hawker's expression lightened up to an even greater extent, pocketing the coins before drawing two sheets of thin cloth from the space beside the delicacies, scooping up two Star-petal tarts and handing them to Masha.

Star-petals were the early blossoms of the trees that sprouted from the buildings in the undercity. They were in abundance, most definitely, but they did not fall so young into their life. To be harvested when they were sweetest in taste, walkers of the rooftops would meticulously climb along the outskirts of the branches, plucking the petals from their heights one-by-one. They could not be shaken, grasping too firm to the branches, this was their only method of delivery. 

Still, for two copper coins, it must have shaken Masha's heart considerably. He turned around as soon as the hawker had bid his goodbyes, handing each of them a tart. 

"Happy birthday, you two." Masha looked down at the two of them. His eyes were filled with some inconsiderable euphoria, a warmth that bathed over the two of them as long as they chose to stare within them. "It has been too hard over these many years, but we've all managed to make it this far. I can't wait to see what you both become in the future. Please, rest easy from this day onward. I'll make sure you both make it there."

Eshent's eyebrow twitched as he looked down at the delicacy. It was not a matter of its appearance, it looked quite well- the petals had been blanched, and so had lost a bit of their colour, looking pale, but the crust of the tart was buttery and flaky, with a bit of coarse salt along its edges. It was more so that Masha had only bought two of them.

Eshent sighed in a disappointed manner as he broke off a piece of the tart, smaller than the other half, before handing it towards Masha. There was no way he would accept an equal portion, he considered it a gift. But Eshent wouldn't simply be fine with goodwill at the cost of his older brother's potential enjoyment. Seeing this, Corrin did the same, handing Masha a portion of her tart immediately after. 

A bit hesitant, Masha accepted the pieces of tart, biting into them. 

"You two are far too silly." He laughed, smiling.

"It is certainly the best way to live." Corrin replied in a joking manner. 

The three took a seat on a bench to the side of the street, enjoying the tarts as they watched many troupes of performers pass them by. Magicians and masqueraders in bright colourful masks and ornate top hats performed tricks as they moved along, and acrobats twisted in inhuman forms to the tunes of troubadours, but it was a particular crowd of performers that quickly caught the siblings attention.

A puppeteer surrounded by a group of brightly-painted jesters 

"Is it true, Mr.?" A child called out from the crowd towards the puppeteer. "Can you turn any man into a puppet?" 

The flamboyant performer knelt down next to the child, grinning. "Indeed. Shall I test it out now?" 

The child nodded vehemently, pointing to a tall man standing beside him. "My father first!" 

The man looked down at the child and then at the performer with a look of apprehension, but ultimately nodded as he bowed to his child's desire. After all, how could one not try at every turn to make a child smile and laugh? It was unbefitting of a human person.

As the siblings watched from across the street, the laughter suddenly subsided. Alike to the drone of the glowing bugs, there was some sort of eerie, incomprehensible whistle echoing through the street. The crowd became silent, and Masha and Corrin's gazes became vacant and focused on the puppeteer ahead.

Past the group of jesters, bright flamboyant colours caught Eshent's attention. Dozens of figures in bright-yellow cloaks whisked about the crowds, carrying small black books nestled between their arms, their faces obscured by shadow. They looked the part of heretics, crazed madmen, but also interestingly so.

From time to time, members of this strange cohort would stop and hand out these black booklets to interested parties, saying few to no words before moving on further down the street. 

Masha and Corrin seemed oblivious to them, glancing not a single time in their direction. But Eshent was unusually drawn- they were beautiful, regal almost. He stood up from his seat, a pulsing pain ringing through his head as he did so. Still, he stumbled in their direction, his sibling seemingly not noticing his absence as he made his way towards the marching group in yellow.

He had lost them amidst the waves of people, sifting through their depths as he searched for the radiant colour of their cloaks. Nothing was to be found. He stood empty in the center of the street, glancing about as he realised he had lost himself. 

Then, a hand touched upon his shoulder. He glanced behind him, spotting the warm, almost inhuman smile of the face hidden in the shadows of the yellow cloak. It was one of the people in yellow! Eshent smiled in return as he faced the man, nodding his head in greeting. 

The cloaked figure nodded his head in return, picking up one of the black books he carried in his hand before handing it to Eshent. Once again, his head pulsed with pain. Various images of the strange places and people he had never seen or met before burned into the forefront of his mind.

The cloaked figure smiled eerily as he looked down at Eshent, who bent over as he grasped at his forehead, wincing and groaning at the pain. 

"Welcome, dear Visionary."