Equimancer's Realm

by A.B. Robertson

  For these were the days when you could make a good catch. Or catch something really nasty.

  During the Festival, all Academy members seemed to have vanished from the surface of the Earth. Which was exactly what happened every year. The Equimancers had their own celebration; a themed Masquerade and two days of ‘bonding’. Kissing was obligatory in the Hidden City as well.

  On the second day of the Festival, Octarian, Wolly, Mordan and Trillian entered the reception hall of the Wintersky Palace.

  They all wore full metal body armours South Sarean style. Or at least what Realmers thought South Sarean armour looked like. Instead of masks, they wore helmets with visors.

  The palace was very different than the other Royal dwellings. The whole building seemed to be hewn of ice. While the other palaces had pieces of art and statues on display, the Lectrickans chose to hang strange machineries and gadgets from their walls. Their inventors were legendary. Unbeknownst to most; they kept in constant contact with the staff of the laboratories of the Jesterlanders of Inner Kronuria – who they regarded as their distant relatives.

  “My lips are numb,” announced Wolly, massaging his jaw.

  “Colour me surprised,” muttered Mordan.

  “I don’t think there’s any girl left at the Academy who you haven’t kissed. And that’s after your new record that you have achieved yesterday in the city,” added Octarian.

  “Two-hundred-and-thirty-seven,” Wolly announced proudly.

  “I advise you strongly to see a healer tomorrow, someone will have to delurgify you,” suggested Trillian.

  “Shouldn’t you have your lovely fiancée Erna shipped in for the Festival?” Mordan asked.

  “Are you crazy? For Ermelians this Festival would be a major health hazard. Besides, this will be my last Snogfest before I get married. No more records for me after this one. I have to make the most out of it,” he let his head drop.

  “Let’s go to the Ball Room and mingle. If you can’t find me later on, just presume me dead or lucky,” Trillian winked.

  Tolzan stood a short distance away from the main entrance of the palace. He was dressed as a Roditeean Mesmer. His face was covered by a half-mask, like everybody else’s. He was waiting for Noerelle.

  Royal barge after Royal barge arrived, and the members of the cream of the Realm entered the palace in the most decadent costumes.

  Suddenly, he spotted a female figure and he took a double-take.

  ‘Crazy girl,’ he thought, as the woman approached him with Scypian following her.

  ‘Uncanny, isn’t it, cousin?’ Noerelle projected to him.

  “Greetings, King. Please excuse us for a moment,” Tolzan bowed his head towards Scypian, who was clad in a sheep-skin drape with a horned ram skull as head-gear.

  They walked out of hearing distance.

  “I thought for a second that my dear Aunt Vipra came towards me. By the Gods, you really look like your mother,” he smiled.

  “Thank you. Took me ages to have the tailor get the costume right,” she said adjusting the leather straps that were the main and only parts of her costume.

  “How is life at the Warhorns?” Tolzan asked her.

  “Well, let’s put it this way. Should the Plan change, I could make Emperor Xisar propose to me any time now.”

  Tolzan shook his head.

  “Fine, fine, I’m just saying. He’s not doing very well anyway. Unfortunately, a mysterious illness has befallen him and poor little Ramstone. The healers think it’s Euposian swamp fever and can’t seem to find a cure, but rest assured that they will both recover after Xisar does what we need him to do,” she said.

  “Good. I told you, death is not an option. Not for him and not for the boy,” Tolzan squinted at her.

  “I know, don’t get your knickers in a twist. They will both be fine after Ariessa became the Representative of Covax. Lovely girl, by the way. We have so much fun, and I’m doing my best to offer her a shoulder to cry on. Poor Princess is so worried about her father and her brother. It wasn’t easy to convince her to come to the ball, but she promised that for tonight she will put aside her troubles and enjoy herself. I’m sure she’s secretly hoping to see the mysterious stranger she’s so hopelessly in love with,” Noerelle giggled at him.

  “She undoubtedly will,” Tolzan replied.

  “How’s Emperor Aeron doing?” he asked her.

  “He’s enjoying his holidays in Euposia,” she laughed.

  Tolzan shot her a warning look.

  “My dear cousin, nothing bad will happen to Aeron. On the contrary; he’s having the time of his life in a lovely village in Western Euposia.

  Soon the Royal Council of Azuria won’t have any other choice but to make King Herman the Representative of their country and then Aeron will return to the Realm. He might be confused for a while, but he’ll have nothing but some shreds of pleasant memories of his Euposian stay,” Noerelle patted his hand.

  “The Azurian Royal Council will have to make that decision in the Month of the Ram. Three successive months without a Representative will force them to do so. Fine. I don’t need to tell you what would happen if you messed this up.”

  “Oh, Tolzan, when will you learn to trust me at last?” she laughed.

  “Once I’ve lost my mind. So, hopefully very soon.”

  “It will be fine. I’m doing everything right and you know it. Don’t I at least deserve a ‘well done, Noerelle?’” she pouted.

  “Yes dear. Atta girl. Your parents would be so proud of you,” Tolzan grinned.

  “You better get back to your escort, before King Jellyspine has a fit,” he added. Noerelle laughed, and joined Scypian.

  “Let’s go and have some fun,” her eyes sparkled at the King through her exquisite black metal mask.

  “Prince Wolly, you are aware that this is the fifth time you’ve come to me,” Gloria squinted.

  “My Empress, there is only one thing I have to say to you to make you surrender. Don’t speak, just kiss,” he replied getting on his tiptoes, pressing his lips against hers.

  “I will have to start charging you,” she said as soon as she got a chance to breathe again.

  “Don’t speak, just kiss,” Octarian smiled. Ariessa was clad in dark red chain-mail. Sarean costumes were the most popular this year.

  “By the Gods, Sunflare, you know how to impress a Warhorn,” Ariessa looked at Octarian’s armour appreciatively, before he pulled her to him. Her heart constricted with guilt; she desperately wanted to be in love with him.

  Trillian said the magic words. Saturnia looked at him in shock.

  “Trill, what the Hell are you trying to do?”

  “Shut up, woman and obey. Let’s practice the worst-case scenario in case the Euposians invade us,” he said, and planted a noisy smooch on her lips.

  “Been a while since I kissed a woman. And look, I didn’t burst into flames.”

  Liona flushed. It was the first Wintersky Festival she was allowed to attend. She wasn’t prepared to hear the words from a woman.

  The girl dressed only in leather straps and a metal mask, didn’t wait for a reply. She slid one arm around her waist and the other around her neck before she could feel their lips and tongues connect. Liona felt light-headed, and her whole body suddenly felt as if on fire.

  “Has Sylvain ever kissed you like this?” the stranger asked.

  Liona weakly shook her head.

  “Maybe you should ask yourself why,” the girl whispered, and disappeared in the crowd.

  Ariessa knew that this was the kiss she was longing for when she found herself in the arms of the Mesmer.

  “Don’t leave me again, Traveller,” she whispered.

  “I won’t. Not this time. May I meet you at the docks in front of the palace in a few minutes?”

  Ariessa nodded and made her way towards the exit.

  Sylvain’s lips felt numb. So far, he hadn’t had the chance to use the magic sentence on anybody.

  He
didn’t need to. He didn’t have the time to.

  Even though it was common knowledge that he was engaged, most women at the ball were queuing up for his kisses.

  He decided to get out of the corner, that the eager Ladies had gradually forced him into, to find his fiancée facing him.

  She said the words to him. He smiled, laced his fingers behind his back, and gently breathed a kiss on her lips.

  Liona looked at him as if he had slapped her, and ran off.

  Octarian didn’t mean to watch Ariessa all night long. He didn’t. He knew the rules of the Festival and played by them.

  Nevertheless, he spotted her just after the Mesmer had released her from his embrace. When he saw the expression in her eyes, he felt a jab of jealousy.

  When he saw her leave without a word after the man had whispered to her, he tried to calm himself.

  ‘She’ll be back,’ he said to himself.

  He kept an eye on the door of the Ball Room, but Ariessa didn’t return. The Mesmer was still around.

  He glanced at the door again.

  With every passing minute, his anger mounted.

  Empress Saturnia walked by him. Suddenly he missed the simplicity of his short relationship with Nocturnia. They did look very much alike. He stepped in front of her, bowed and said the words.

  “With pleasure,” she said, this time devoid of any anger.

  Sylvain was trying to find Liona. He didn’t understand what had just happened. Suddenly, he felt his heart beat faster.

  He slowly turned around.

  The next moment he felt a sensation he had thought he would never experience again; Noerelle’s body against his.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice tried to tell him to run, but he knew he was helpless.

  The World around them seemed to disappear.

  “Have you ever kissed Liona like this?” Noerelle whispered to him after she slipped out of his arms.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, she was gone.

  “Don’t speak, just kiss,” King Herman said to Trillian.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty, very much appreciated. Now, I will have to get my imperial kiss as well, but I don’t seem to be able to find Emperor Aeron. Hasn’t he arrived yet?” Trillian asked after the King withdrew his lips.

  “I don’t… I mean, he’ll come soon, I think… Excuse me,” Herman stuttered and ran off.

  Wolly had paid Gloria with a glass of sparkle for her sixth kiss. As she had threatened him with a complaint to his mother, he decided not to bother her again, and started working another part of the Ball Room.

  Gloria put her empty glass on a table.

  ‘Last one, then I’ll go home,’ she decided, and looked at the man standing in front of her, dressed in Roditeean fineries. Her heart started beating faster.

  He didn’t say anything, he merely smiled at her.

  “Don’t talk, just kiss,” she said impatiently.

  Her knees buckled when his lips touched hers.

  Afterwards, he took a bow and kissed her hand.

  Within seconds, he was gone.

  Gloria looked around. She saw Mordan leaning against a column looking at her with a half-smile. She went up to him.

  “Don’t speak, just kiss,” she said.

  She desperately wanted to feel something as their lips connected.

  Octarian smiled tiredly at the dark-haired girl whose demand he had just obeyed for the third time.

  His mood hadn’t improved. Ariessa had left quite a while ago, and he had given up hope that she would return.

  His friends were either busy or long gone. All he wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep. He made his way towards the exit.

  Noerelle smiled to herself.

  She channelled some negative Fire on herself to make her heart beat slower. At last she could be near Sylvain again. In the end they would be together.

  She inhaled the crisp, cold air of the winter night that streamed through the main door of the palace. She was about to step outside, when she heard a whisper.

  “Don’t speak, just kiss,” Scypian stood in front of her. His eyes were glinting and he moistened his lips with his tongue. Before Noerelle could reply, he dragged her into a corner of the entrance hall and pressed his lips against hers.

  “Tonight. It has to happen tonight. I can’t wait any longer,” he panted.

  She wanted to kick him off her, but she knew that she had to resort to other means.

  “Yes, my King. Tonight,” she whispered, considering which of her Aptitudes to use on him later on in order to knock him out.

  Octarian spotted his Royal Barge. He slowly walked towards it.

  A figure hurried past him.

  It was the Mesmer.

  He was heading towards the Metal Swan that was peacefully swaying on the waters of the Canal.

  A female figure in red armour was waiting for the Mesmer on board the vehicle.

  It was Ariessa.

  Royal Palace of Stinger, Realm’s Heart Island

  It was the first Moonday of the month. A day of rest to be spent with one’s family; just like every Moonday. And a day of recovery after the Festival; just like every first Moonday of every month.

  Gloria had been up early for such a day. She had left the ball shortly before midnight, and after she had to resign herself to the fact that the Mayor had indeed left. She was disappointed, but she knew that they would meet soon; the Royal Council Meeting would be held in two days.

  Gloria, who had been the member of the Heliodorian Royal Council for years, would have never thought that one day she would consider a boring meeting as the highpoint of her month. Yet here she was, counting the hours until she could sit next to Lord Bowman again.

  The longer she knew him, the more impatiently she waited for the two days of every month that they would spend together. He would always stay for another day, so they could discuss the House of Houses’ Meetings.

  Not only did she admire him for his professionalism, politeness and modesty, but the more time they spent together, the more she became convinced that he would be the best choice for the future King of Pyonia. Unfortunately, there was not the slightest sign that the Mayor would be interested in anything else but a warm, yet professional relationship between them.

  Until last night.

  Naturally, Gloria was aware that it would have been foolish to assign any deeper meaning to the Festival-kisses.

  Yet that kiss…

  He had to feel it too. She was sure of it. She could tell by the way he had looked at her. He had never before looked at her like that.

  The palace was silent; everybody seemed to sleep off the after-effects of the night before. Gloria didn’t know what to do with herself. Then, she had an idea which made her shake her head.

  ‘Silly woman. How sad is that?

  Still, I have nothing better to do,’ she thought, and made her way towards the corridor that led to the Conference Wing of the palace.

  She wanted to be where Tolzan spent most of his time when he came to the Capital. He usually arrived in the morning of Warriordays, a few hours before the Council Meeting.

  Conference Wings were one-storey side buildings of every Royal palace. They had separate entrances; thus the visiting Mayors and their servants could come and go as they liked. They all had keys to the buildings.

  Gloria entered the wing. On the ground floor were the Conference Hall and two guest rooms for the servants. The whole of the first floor was taken up by the luxurious rooms reserved for the Mayor-Governor.

  She was about to go up the stairs, when she heard a noise.

  She stopped, trying to figure out what the noise was, and where it came from.

  It was early afternoon, but the Sun was very low already. Gloom started to set in.

  She silently took a few steps forward. Then, she noticed that the door of the Conference Hall was open.

  ‘Someone’s
in there,’ she thought. She felt like a naughty child who was about to steal some sweets. She was considering running back to the palace. She silently chuckled as the Ermelian term ‘free game for idiots’ occurred to her.

  She took another few steps. She couldn’t help it, it was exciting. By now, she could see the light coming from the hall, and the noise that she had heard sounded like water running into a tub.

  ‘Eh, it’s probably the Mayor’s manservant,’ she thought with disappointment. She went to the door and took a look inside. Her heart skipped a beat.

  Lord Bowman was sitting at the conference table. Documents were spread out in front of him. His coat and cravat were folded over a chair. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, the sleeves pushed up to his elbow. He was apparently lost in his work. Now and then, he ran his hand through his hair.

  Gloria was mesmerised.

  She had no idea how long she had been standing there.

  The Mayor must have sensed her presence. He looked up.

  “Empress,” he said as he rose, hastily donning his coat.

  He hurried up to her and kissed her hand.

  “Forgive me for my attire, Empress, I wasn’t expecting you,” he said apologetically.

  “Please don’t worry. I just came over to make sure that everything would be prepared for your arrival tomorrow,” she blurted, trying to make her flush go away.

  Suddenly, she noticed the open door that led to the servants’ guest rooms.

  “By the Gods, Lord Bowman. Is that your luggage in the servant room? I will have someone come to take it up to your suite,” she gasped.

  “Please don’t, Empress. After our first Council Meeting, I have asked Master Brightstar to always have this room made up for me. It has been ‘my room’ since I become Mayor, years ago,” he smiled.

  “You mean under Empress Sidonia’s reign?”

  He nodded.

  “I wasn’t aware that you had Council Meetings while…” she wasn’t quite sure how to end the sentence.

  “While Pyonia was under Heliodorian supervision. Yes, we did. It was but a small Council with only Empress Sidonia, High Priestess Scarlet of the Church of the Lady of the Underworld and me. Even though we didn’t have the right to make any decisions, we had to prepare the monthly reports for the Heliodorian Royal Council,” he explained, without even the slightest hint of reproach in his voice, but Gloria felt guilty.