As the night descended on the Empire, every corner was enlightened with the lanterns and magical light balls, cities that were once dulled by the scar of prolonged war, was alive with the vibrant energy.
Puppeteers expertly maneuvered their intricate creations, their hands dancing in harmony with the strings to bring characters to life in tales of Great Yureshia, and the brave warriors.
Like every story, there was a hero, Hero named Conan, whose story of kindness and bravery has already reached the ears in the capital.
Despite the official start date still being weeks away, the spirit of celebration permeated every corner of the city
The poets and wordsmiths found their voices, weaving the lyrical verses about the heroic acts of A brave commoner, that echoed through air.
Meanwhile the drama troupe adorned with the colorful costumes, and painted faces and masks, enacted scenes of passion and intrigue.
Their performances were a symphony of movement and expression, drawing crowds who were spellbound by the intensity of their storytelling.
Conan Emmanuel, the hot topic of Yureshia and everyone wanted to know about him.
For many, it was the time of joyous revelry and cherished moments, for others it was an opportunity to earn livelihood for their families, most of them travelled for months from those ravaged villages on borders, that was destroyed by war, brimming with hopes.
Among the throngs of revelers, there were adventurers who had decided to temporarily lay down their swords and shields, these travellers has brought fascinating stories with them, attracting a herd of children workers around the inns and taverns.
Josey, a young boy who grew up on the streets alongside his older brother, found himself under the care of the tavern's lord. Despite his tender age of eight, he was tasked with serving patrons, a role he performed with surprising competence, even striking up friendships with the regular customers.
Occasionally, luck would smile upon him, and he'd receive tips from nobles who disguised themselves as common folk. The tavern's lord had taught him how to spot these wealthy deceivers, who shed their fine garments for more modest attire while retaining their polished manners and upright postures. Josey and his brother, Llyod, who was 15, often found amusement in mocking their peculiar way of speaking.
One such nobleman, distinguished by his distinctive black hair, ordered drinks for two despite sitting alone. Josey sensed that this man, like others, had ulterior motives for his visit.
In his late 50s, the man appeared aloof, with sunken eyes and unusually pale skin. He regarded Josey with disdain as he served him drinks, responding to the boy's inquiry with a cold glare.
Uneasy, Josey retreated, knowing he wouldn't receive a tip from this particular customer. He searched for his brother, Llyod, whom he hadn't seen since earlier that evening.
"Have you seen my brother?" he asked a fellow boy, who shook his head in response. Concern gnawed at Josey, especially considering that one of their companions had recently gone missing.
As he made his way back to their shared quarters, the night sky darkened, and the sounds of revelry faded into soft snores. Upon arrival, Josey discovered an empty room and a note left behind by Llyod.
"Will come back soon with lots of money," read Llyod's friend, Bayley.
Josey sighed, feeling both sad and relieved that his brother hadn't vanished like the others.
'I just wish to be with you brother'
----------@----------
The tavern was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the worn wooden tables.
The black-haired man sat alone in a secluded corner, his gaze fixed on the entrance as he awaited the arrival of someone important.
It was best place where he can merge into the crowd and get his business done without having to lookout for unwanted people.
Unaware that most of the people have already noticed him.
As the minutes ticked by, the door creaked open, and a shabby-looking man entered. Despite his disheveled appearance, there was an air of confidence about him, his muscular frame suggesting strength and agility. He was a mercenary, well-known in certain circles for his deadly skills.
The black-haired man watched as the mercenary approached, his eyes narrowing slightly in assessment. This was the man he had been waiting for, the one he intended to enlist for a delicate task.
"Good evening," He greeted the arrogant black haired man, who replied with a nod and gestured him to sit across him.
The mercenary guarded his expressions as he settled into the chair.
"I trust you received my message?" the black-haired man asked, his voice low and measured.
The mercenary nodded again, his eyes flickering with curiosity. He had been intrigued by the mysterious summons, eager to hear what task awaited him.
"Excellent," the black-haired man continued. "I have a job for you, one that requires your particular talents."
The mercenary leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Go on," he prompted.
"There is a certain individual who has become... problematic," the black-haired man explained carefully, choosing his words with caution. "I need them... removed from the picture, so to speak."
The mercenary's lips quirked into a faint smile. He understood the implication behind the black-haired man's words. Assassination was a common request in his line of work, and he was more than capable of carrying out such a task.
"And what, may I ask, is the target's name?" the mercenary inquired, his tone neutral.
The black-haired man hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to reveal the identity of the target. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Oh you must have know him by now, he is labelled as a hero these days"
"Interesting.. "
The mercenary nodded, committing the information to memory. "Consider it done," he replied with a nod of assurance. " But it will require more than what I am being offered "
The black-haired man reached into his cloak, withdrawing a paper and He slid it across the table towards the mercenary. "Take the advance from this man" he said simply. "You will get the rest once I receive the message"
The mercenary pocketed the paper without hesitation, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I'll take care of it," he vowed before rising from his seat.
As the mercenary departed into the night, the black-haired man watched him go, a sense of satisfaction washing over him.a sinister smile appeared on his face, his plans were in motion, and soon, his troublesome adversary would be no more.
___________
In the heart of the arcane tower, nestled amidst towering shelves of ancient tomes and shimmering crystal orbs, sat the office of the renowned arc-wizard, Isiah, surrounded by piles of books and scrolls
The office was located at the topmost of the floating tower, outside his windows, there laid the bed of clouds.
Isiah was engrossed in a book, so much that he didn't even looked up to his assistant, Morris bringing some tea and cookies.
His golden hair cascading like molten sunlight and eyes ablaze with a fiery red hue, Isiah was a vision of ethereal beauty and power, even though it left taste of last night food in his mouth, Morris admitted that his master is one of a kind.
For Morris, it was unusual sight to behold. His master being a genius,hardly finds anything intriguing.
After what felt like eternity, Isiah finally let's out an exaggerated Groan.
"Why it didn't worked?"
"What are you talking about? " Morris asked plainly with the hint of curiosity
"Why are you here? "
Morris struggled to not to roll his brown eyes or this madman will probably vanish him from the face of this planet right here. He showed him the tray he placed on the table.
"Then what are you waiting for on the door? A grand welcome? "
Morris placed the plates down at the table near couch.
"Good job" He said with a grin "at least you are useful " Before disappearing and appearing on the couch with a blink of an eye.
'It should have worked' Isiah pondered, taking a sip of his tea that was brewed with magic.
"There was no fault in the recipe" He said as he munched some cookies "what do you think Morris, what could possibly go wrong if the potion MADE BY ME" He pressed on those words " that is supposed to unleash one's blocked mana doesn't have any affect to the subject "
"It means there isn't any blockage" Morris said simply and Isiah gave him a look.
Morris hated those questions, he knew what was coming for him.
"Wrong answer, now go there" He pointed at the corner of his room " And do 100 squats"
Morris obliged, he was used to such punishment to the point that he have strong and crafted legs.
Isiah stood up and smiled "it means the energy that is blocking this mana is different"
Just like that he vanished into the thin air.