Chapter 20. Summer's End Celebration

A pleasant night breeze blew through his hair as he sat in the shade of a magnolia tree, contemplating the unusual package. 

Having changed his plans to return to the hotel to admire the night sky, which was beginning to cloud over, he decided to carefully check what was contained under several layers of paper and opened it without feeling any negative reaction. 

The contents were a small ceramic jar with a lid and a small piece of paper with the instruction "Apply this to your back" written in beautiful calligraphic handwriting.

Sniffing the contents of the jar, Cornflower smiled slightly; inside was an herbal ointment. 

Of course, he guessed who could have given it to him, but the motive wasn't quite clear to him.

Lightning flashed in the sky and a distant roll of thunder announced the approach of a storm cloud.

"Looks like it's going to start raining soon, I have to go to the inn."

No sooner as he had thought this than he heard the approaching whoosh of two knives slicing through the air, flying straight at his head. 

Instinctively dodging, he looked around cautiously and was almost hit by a hail of violent energy that blew almost all the blossoms off the magnolia tree in one gust.

 With a miraculous leap, he spun around on one foot, barely managing to shift his weight in time to block another knife that was hurled at him with his other foot.

It was the first time Cornflower had encountered such agility from an attacker. 

After another whirl, releasing his internal energy, he blocked the opponent's stab with his hands, skilfully using the energy streams as shields.

As another stabbing lunge was parried, the attacker retreated a little, and the two men spun in a murderous circle under the light of the stars, waiting to see who would make the first move towards the enemy.

Finally, with the next rumble of thunder, the rain began to fall, ready to turn into a downpour at any moment.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Cornflower shouted.

"That you die. " The hooded stranger replied in a squeaky voice and then threw himself at Cornflower, who was ready for such an attack.

Pretending to block the blow with his hands, Cornflower concentrated all his strength in his legs and threw a deft hook, causing his opponent to regain his footing and somersault sideways, sending his hood flying.

As he turned, young man shuddered inwardly - under the hood was a fully tattooed face with deep scars, one of which stretched where an eye had once been. 

Washed by the light rain, he glared angrily at the remaining eye and lunged back with another series of blows, barely discernible to the average onlooker, which Cornflower countered quite successfully, save for a slight cut on his cheek. 

It was raining heavily, sending splashes of water flying away from the fighters.

Suddenly, the stranger stepped back, and where he had stood, a trident-shaped blade with a short shaft protruded from the ground, charged with a merciless aura like smoke.

As Cornflower froze, he felt something protect his head from the rain, and his nose caught the scent of fresh grass. 

Frozen in the distance, the enemy shouting over the noise of the rain to the young man from another side:

"We will meet again, marked with the cursed mark of the self-proclaimed gods, next time I will surely take your life! " And with these words he disappeared.

Still looking at the place where his opponent had just stood, Cornflower straightened up tensely and, after waiting for his aura to finally disappear from his field of vision, turned to the man holding a wide indigo-coloured umbrella above them and said with a polite bow:

"I am pleased to welcome Lord Akihiro at this late hour."

The red-amber eyes sparkled mysteriously and, to Cornflower's surprise, the man used his free hand to place a ceramic jar in his hand.

"I'm sorry, I must have dropped it when I was attacked," Cornflower smiled guiltily. "Thank you for the gift."

Lord Akihiro squinted at the young man and quickly snatched the vessel back, pushing the umbrella into his hands.

"Uh... " was all that came out of his mouth.

Cornflower could only watch in fascination as he opened the jar of ointment with his aristocratic fingers, adorned with thin translucent rings of unknown material, and after dabbing it on his finger, he gently stroked it over the young man's cheek, in the depths of whose green eyes it seemed possible to drown at that moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cornflower noticed a tattoo on the man's wrist that made his eyes widen in surprise.

"So that's why he... But it's unthinkable for a man of his status..."

Akihiro nodded in agreement:

"The ingredients for this ointment are a collection of rare medicinal herbs, please anoint your back, they will heal all wounds, even those of the defilement..."

At this, he looked away meaningfully and handed the jar back to Cornflower, who accepted it gratefully and in turn tried to return the umbrella to its owner.

But he just pushed it away and took him under arm, making Cornflower tense as a cord.

"It's a beautiful night, why don't we take a stroll through the empty streets of the city?"

Cornflower sighed softly, thinking it would be rude to refuse the hand of the man who had just helped him, so he nodded meekly. 

And the two man figures hovered like ghosts over the road, eroded by the warm summer rain.

Although Akihiro kept as close to Cornflower as his wide umbrella would allow, his tail occasionally brushed behind him, sending a slight shiver down the young man's spine.

The rain continued to pound on the leaves of the trees, as did the cries of the last of the revelers in the taverns adjacent to the glittering red light district that blossomed every night despite the weather.

The few passers-by who had forgotten something on the street at such a late hour were surprised to see the couple strolling along at a leisurely pace.

Cornflower was the first to break the silence:

"Akihiro-san..."

"Hiroka. "

"Huh?.."

"Call me Hiroka, please. I owe you so much that... Please call me that."

 Cornflower looked at this man, whose gaze seemed incomprehensible to him. Thinking back to their first meeting, it was impossible not to notice the change in his attitude.

Was it really because... 

Cornflower immediately shivered and carefully sealed away those ambiguous memories that sometimes made his blood run cold. No, something was wrong.

Putting it down to the strange ways of this mysterious man, he went on:

"Hiroka, do you happen to know what kind of man attacked me? To be honest, this is the first time I've seen him, and I have no idea what I could have done to upset him."

"Unfortunately, I know very well where he came from. You have been attacked by a member of the Fallen Priests. These bounty hunters show up at every Battle of the Ancients and hunt down any marked they find interesting. No one knows exactly why they do it, but it's said that they're trying to hurt the Ancients who watch over our world from the shadows. "

Cornflower's gaze slid to Akihiro's neck, where the mark was no longer a scarlet stain, but as if engraved with clearly defined edges. 

"So clear, how many battles has he fought? Maybe I should call to a duel him as soon as I get the sword?" thought Cornflower, he had high hopes for the wonderful sword and tried to make plans with it without a shadow of a doubt.

Meanwhile, they had stopped in a small alley. Young man was surprised to see that they were standing in front of the entrance to his hotel.

"Here we are."Akihiro smiled and looked at him. "Don't forget the ointment."

Cornflower willingly held out the handle of his umbrella, but instead of taking it, Akihiro just squeezed the hand holding the umbrella into his own.

"See you next time. Keep it."

He vanished into thin air, leaving behind a cloud of scarlet mist.

"Hey!What are you doing here? Didn't you want to meet your friend? I'm here, you're a bit late, I'm soaking wet!" Cardus' body stumbled out of the bend. 

He approached Cornflower and gave him a whiff of strong wine and tobacco.

"You know, the head fairy of the Butterfly Palace said today that I was very nice to her eyes." With these words he fell on his friend with dreamy eyes. " Oh, if only I had more money..."

Outraged, young man tried to shake off the body that immediately made him clothes soaked, but it clung to him a deadly grip.

"Ah, what a beautiful dance, you should have seen it...."

Shaking his head, Cornflower picked up his unfortunate friend and helped him to his room, expecting him to complain of a terrible headache in the morning.

***

A crowd of mutterers gathered along Faerûn's main street to watch the imperial retinue. 

On this particular day, the nobility could be seen leaving the capital for the Reserved Forest.

 This was the first time Estragon had attended the End of Summer celebrations in person, and his heart was very uneasy. 

His Master had made him leave the miraculous sword in which his sister's spirit had been sealed in the palace, and he felt it was more likely to be stolen in a place as unfortified as the Reserved Forest, for word of it had spread far beyond Virdis, and the most ardent of villains might come looking for it. 

Rather than risk a precious soul, his teacher, who also holds the position of his chief advisor, suggested that a replica be forged and the blade left under careful guard in the main treasury of the palace, promising to erect the strongest possible barriers and making it clear that he would not allow Estragon to take the sword outside the palace grounds.

Since Estragon could not display his aura for fear of being discovered by his kin, he reluctantly agreed, promising the spirit of his sister in the sword that she would be well. 

He didn't hear anything in return, and to be honest, he doubted if she could hear him at all.

Since he and his master had carefully managed to make him the lost heir to the throne of Virdis in his childhood, using manipulation, bribery, treachery and a few random murders disguised as accidents to force the then dubious Empress Regent, who was Estragon's younger sister, to abdicate in his favour, enough time had passed for Estragon to get used to the usual human hustle and bustle outside the palace. 

He had forgotten how nice it was to take a stroll through the fairgrounds, or to see a show of travelling performers, or to visit an inn or a craftsman's shop.

All these pleasures of ordinary life were closed to him the moment he stepped outside the palace gates, the moment he became Emperor.

Nothing, once they had their revenge, he would be free to spread his wings, rescue his sister from captivity and...

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as he looked around the places he was arriving through, his gaze catching an interesting young man whose hair shimmered in different shades of gold, drawing attention to himself in the crowd.

He was standing near the entrance to one of Faerûn's many taverns, facing a tall, zoomorphic man who was saying something to him with a disgruntled look on his face, and he was waving his hand in response, occasionally scratching the back of his head to make it clear that he didn't understand what his opponent was saying.

Suddenly, as if sensing the gaze upon him, the golden-haired man looked around, and for a brief moment, as Estragon caught the stranger's gaze in his direction, it was as if he had been electrocuted. 

On impulse, he leaned out of the carriage, but the man was already out of sight, lost in the crowd of people who, at the sight of someone peering through the darkened curtains, crowded together to get a better look at the face of the person peering out.

At that moment, he was roughly pulled back inside by the shoulder.

"What are you doing, have you gone mad? Sit down." His Master said coldly.

Slightly dejected, he sat down again with a slight sigh. Sometimes, his Master's hyper-parenting was very unpleasant for him.

"Why are you acting like a neglectful child lately? I no longer recognise the fierce warrior I pulled from the godforsaken world. Is it the spirit in the sword?"

Estragon can't think of an answer, his Master is right as always. But he can't help the fact that, for some unknown reason, he can't help feeling a tingling sensation from the call that only he can hear.

The closer the ceremonial carriage approached the Reserved Forest, the more guards stood along the roadside, greeting the procession with polished gestures. 

In anticipation of such a large celebration, the lion's share of military personnel, special stewards and labourers had been sent there a week before the event to prepare the area for the dignitaries.

Estragon was already mentally shuddering at the thought of having to listen to the endless praise and fawning speeches in his honour, and remembering to respond in kind on a regular basis.

Not to mention the fact that delegations from other countries would have to be treated in a special way.

Since the End-of-summer Celebrations lasted more than a day, a huge tent camp was set up over several hectares, with separate areas for resting, eating and hygiene.

 All for the entertainment of the high society.

While the peasants and others were enjoying themselves in the cities and towns, celebrating the start of the harvest season with copious amounts of food and drink, the upper classes spent their time pleasantly hunting small game, playing board games and establishing diplomatic relations.

Looking out the windows, Estragon no longer saw the vibrant sincerity that reigned in the streets of Faerûn and its suburbs. 

Now there was an atmosphere of intense falsehood, palpable if one tried hard enough. 

The coachman of the ceremonial carriage seemed to have slowed it down for the sake of show, weaving its way between the tents until it finally came to a halt at the far end of the camp that had been set up for the entertainment of the nobles.

Wearing the unbreakable mask of a great ruler, Estragon stepped dignifiedly from the carriage onto the softly carpeted path to his tent. 

His game of Emperor, ruler of the world, had begun.