Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
2412 Xavem 20, Velpa
June pulled his hood lower, hiding his face from the rest of the crowd. It was a dangerous time, especially now. His eyes scanned the people inside the tavern with him. He had spent a week in Ansevir, learning everything he could before attempting to cross into Lanteglos via Thenaserine. After that, he had left it to the gods to figure out.
A sigh escaped his lips. One thing at a time. He still has to find the right people that could give him answers about what happened to Xanthy and what to do with a throne now cloaked inside his stolen satchel.
He spent the past two months stalking every dark alley, musty tavern, and hidden forest neighborhood trying to learn what he could about this new world he woke up in. Only flashes of recollection populated his mind after the stunt he pulled in Lanteglos when he...killed the High Queen. He talked to his friends one last time and promised to help them, Xanthy, most likely.
Whatever June was on during that time was extraordinary. How would he even think of helping people when he couldn't even help himself?
Images of braided blond hair, feathery white wings, and metal armor invaded his memory every now and then. What was that about? Sobbing noises that sounded a lot like Xanthy woke him up most nights. That's enough to tell June that she must have been crying before she did what brought her to this present state.
June tightened his grip on Xanthy's waist, fixing her head against his shoulder. He had woken up from the most excruciating slumber and found her collapsed by his feet, a glinting chalice in her hands.
She was alive, that much June could tell. Her trail might have gone dim but it's still there. The chalice, however...
It had only taken him a minute to realize that the onyx goblet was a throne—Desara's throne, in fact—as it carried the same energy as the warsei around his neck. So, he spent a day cloaking its energy with spells meant to conceal at least ten graspelis in a wide grassland.
Then, off he went, spending his days pretending to drink or smoke the pipe, all the while listening to passing conversations in an attempt to get his bearings back. Information first before any type of plan.
What he knew so far was grim.
Last month, as he was looking for dyes to do his hair in, he caught the news of the Dwanzeig Grand Monarch surrendering to Cardovia. Apparently, the Heiress had left her stronghold in Desara, revealed herself to the whole island, and proceeded to claim at least half of Umazure starting from the Nature Fairy territory.
He had woken up in Komery, traveled by foot to Acosa for gods knew how many days, and this was what he's going to learn? Great.
Another week later, while he was hanging out at the local market in Acosa, surrounded by elite nobles doing their shopping, he caught wind of an interesting story of a merchant who had been through the other half of the island.
