Rune Mage [Fantasy/Adventure | Book 1 +2 | Complete]

CHAOS MAGE Chapter 13: The Holy Capital of Falnash

The proud flag of Hanna flapped in the scorching midday sun. Brightly-coloured banners stretched from surfaces of walls made of blue and yellow bricks. Buildings stood ten storeys high, their glass windows glistening after a recent clean, preening with all the colours of runes. Shopkeepers shouted in hopes of selling their wares, much like the markets of Garlinge, but they boasted delicate jewellery of crimsons and ceruleans, and pottery in all shapes and sizes with colours Seiren had never seen before. The air was even thicker and more humid due to the poor ventilation amidst the tall buildings. Seiren gasped, wiping another sheen of sweat from her forehead when she disembarked. The climate would take a lot of getting used to.

The feast would begin at night, but during late afternoon would be the welcoming ceremony when the important members of society would meet King Fautos and pass on their reverence and wishes for the future. Seiren and Madeleine stopped at a guest house and changed from their commoner's garment into one that would pass them off as Solidors. She pulled on another long, flowing dress made of sheepskin, with a layer of vermilion beneath and long sleeves extending over her forearms, and then two layers of scarlet fell as slits to the hem, followed by a sleeveless overdress that cinched at the navel. A soft black hat with delicate flower patterns stitched at the front sat atop her head, a trail of red tassels dangling down one side. Madeleine helped her throughout it all. Back with Ileida, Seiren had struggled for half an hour just to get her arms into the right sleeves without twisting any of the in-between areas and almost lost her temper.

"I could get used to this Hannan clothing," Seiren said, spinning around in her soft shoes and feeling the layers lift off her legs. The material was light despite the layers, moving smoothly over her skin. Paintings of people in brightly-coloured Hannan garb stared at her with pale eyes that contrasted against tanned skin. "They're so soft and loose you don't have to worry about eating too much or sitting unladylike. And they're actually quite light and not that hot, too. I always found Karman clothing too tight—"

"You just sit like a boy, that's why," said Madeleine, adjusting her own ties and re-plaiting her hair, facing the mirror beside the wooden poster bed. "Okay, so remember our story."

"We're distant cousins of Martel Solidor, from Ettrick, here to pass onto King Fautos well wishes from Martel Solidor himself, who has taken ill from the winter winds." Seiren could recite the story in her sleep after being told the first time. She ran a casual hand over the wooden etchings, painted gold, on the foldable walls used to create an air of privacy between the living and the sleeping areas. "I mean, I doubt we'll actually get to face Fautos himself, considering where we apparently stand on the social hierarchy ladder — we're glorified daughters of city officials, so it doesn't really matter if our story varies a little between each pompous git—"

"If they find out we're fakes, they'll execute us."

"It'll be fine. We just have to hang about, see if we can find out anything from the Daemonium about where they're hiding Kristen — we don't even need to talk to them — and find her. That's all." Seiren gave a confident nod as Madeleine stood up. "Let's go hunt down this palace. I'm sure there aren't that many around here."

"Watch your step. We're in enemy territory now," Madeleine murmured, taking her hand. "Let's hope we don't get into trouble before we start looking for it."

They took to the streets and joined the hustle. The atmosphere remained stifling but the lively air made up for it. People jostled into each other; flesh stuck to sticky, sweaty flesh. A wideset man with a heavy basket of goods bumped into Seiren, almost knocking her over with his frame.

"Hey!" she yelled. The man didn't hear her, ambling on in the rapid flow of humans. Seiren opened her mouth to yell at him again when Madeleine yanked at her arm and jerked her head to the side. Seiren hadn't noticed until now, but armoured guards stood, with swords sheathed at the hips, at the sides of the streets, still as the emerald green lamp posts beside them. Sunlight bounced off their rounded helmets and plates of armour on their chests and waists, throwing off sparks of light similar to Seiren's flash magic. They must be cooking inside.