Drayce returned his attention to the stall before him. The shopkeeper's gaze lingered too long on Drayce's sharp face beneath the lamplight, only to meet the cool disinterest etched there, a bored expression that seemed to mock the very wares he examined.
The look of bored indifference on the man's face told the shopkeeper everything he needed to know. He had to show him something more serious to gain a potential buyer. Still, a merchant never wasted a chance.
"Man wi' yer build, vest stitched like that… don't fool me. Ye've walked far roads, I reckon. Roads that bite back. For them paths, ye'll be wantin' top-notch steel, proper guard for a man who don't travel light."
He flipped open a velvet-lined case with a practiced flourish. Inside, a row of daggers with embellished scabbard gleamed under the warm light.
"Go on, take a look." he said, placing the case on the table and rubbing his belly with a satisfied grin. "Finest steel ye'll find in all Elarion. Balanced like song, forged in mountain flame, sharp enough t' cut silk or bone wi' no difference."
There was laughter in the man's tone, harmless bluster but the irony wasn't lost on Drayce.
He stepped closer, his eyes scanned the velvet-lined case. Without a word, he picked up one of the daggers, releasing it from it's scabbard he examined it, a slender blade with an ornate hilt and a wickedly curved edge. The metal caught the warm flicker of lanternlight, glowing like a snake's scale in the dark.
He turned it in his hand, testing it's weight, testing it's death. His smile deepened.
A ceremonial dagger, perhaps… but enough to kill, if aimed right.
As he inspected the blade, he asked almost absently,
"Why is everyone holding a lantern?"
The shopkeeper's grin widened, finally the fine man gave him an opening.
"Ah! Ye sure be new t'Elaris, stranger. Biggest event in fifty years, this is. The Lantern Festival! We release 'em t' ward off the evil eye, folks say it keep misfortune an' wandering spirits at bay."
"It's a sight, I promise ye that."
Drayce tilted his head slightly, watching the sea of lanterns in passerby's hand.
Ward off the evil eye, he thought. Then they might be talking about me. Poor souls… but I am not afraid of lanterns.
Another cheerful voice chimed in of a jovial man standing nearby.
"And this year's special! Happens same time the crown prince's wedding's to be held. The royals'll light the first lanterns at the riverfront. That's how the whole thing starts!"
That marked Dracye's interest.
The shopkeeper nodded eagerly. "Aye! The first lanterns carry prayers o' the crown. The rest o' us just follow along, hopin' our wishes don't drown before dawn."
Now, Dracye lifted the blade in his hand straight and faced it, not at the shopkeeper, but through him as if already seeing the blade at work.
"Clean work!" he murmured.
The shopkeeper puffed with pride.
"Aye, ser. Elarion steel. Folds like silk, cuts like flame. Sharp enough t'split silk threads an' strong enough t'gut any intruder fool enough t'linger where he don't belong."
This time despite the smile on Drayce face, his voice was wintry instead.
"But…"
Before the shopkeeper could blink, in a swift motion Drayce released the blade from above and caught it with his free hand while his other hand slipped beneath his chest piece. Steel flashed as he pulled out his own dagger. He drew it in a white arc of firelight and halted at a hair's breadth from the shopkeeper's cheek.
The shopkeeper flinched hard, stumbling back with a startled gasp, his hand half-raised in defense and he held his headgear in place before it could slip off from the sudden motion. His eyes almost popped out of his face. He looked at Drayce, still pale from the flash of steel, and forced out a shaky laugh.
"Ahh....Saints alive, ye near carved a wrinkle deeper than me wife's naggin'. Warn a man afore ye pull tricks like that!" he wheezed, in relief, seeing Dracye's smile.
Dracye held the blade steady, then calmly lowered it, turning the hilt toward the man, offering him a look.
"This," he said flatly, in a mocking smile now "is what sharpness feels like."
The shopkeeper with his hands trembling, took the dagger as if it was holy. He ran his eyes along the edge, awe clearly dawning in his face.
"By th' stars… what forge birthed this beauty?"
The shopkeeper swallowed hard and slowly reached out to return the blade.
Drayce took it back swiftly, tucking it beneath his cloth with the ease of someone who'd did it a thousand times before.
Him seeing no point of continuing his act began to turn away and said over his shoulder,
"Blades don' earn their bite sittin' on velvet. They learn it sunk deep… in somethin' that bleeds."
But the shopkeeper, still blinking from the encounter, chased him with his voice, half nervous and half curious.
"Wait now, stranger! Ain't seen ye 'round afore. Not guild, not guard… Who are ye, stranger? What's yer name?"
Drayce paused and contemplated for a few seconds. Lanternlight kissed the sharp line of his cheek. He turned his head with smile curling like a blade in its scabbard.
Placing a hand in the stall's counter for support he leaned in to whisper in the man's ear, close enough that the shopkeeper could smell the leather and steel clinging to him. The shopkeeper also leaned closer with the stall's table the only thing between them, thinking he might've stumbled upon an interesting tea to boast about later.
"If I told ye I 'm an emperor," he whispered, smooth as poison, "what would ye do with that name?"
The shopkeeper blinked, then barked out a loud laugh, wagging a thick finger.
"Emperor? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ye a funny man. Then I'm the king o' Elarion meself! What a pair we'd be, eh?"
The nearby crowd chuckled. Drayce chuckled once, too.
But as Drayce turned back, the shopkeeper muttered to himself with amusement,
"Emperor alone, eh? Ha! Ye've got a wild tongue on ye, friend!" He scoffed to himself.
The old lady from earlier nearby, though her eyesight was poor, had ears like a hawk. She leaned on her armrest, squinting at Drayce, and wagged a trembling finger.
"Oi, Thibault! Don' tell me ye blind! That lad there aye, he's a fine lookin' devil! Good enough in me eyes to be an emperor!"
The shopkeeper waved a hand, chuckling and dismissing her talk. "Now, old lady Margot, this is nothin' but full o' fancy tales… Only emperor I've ever seen travel alone's peelin' onions in a palace kitchen… a jester, mayhap!"
Drayce turned his head just slightly, that glint in his eye catching again.
"Why? Can't th' emperor not travel alone?"
The shopkeeper leaned back with a slow smile spreading across his weathered face. He assumed Drayce was playing him. So he also played along.
"Oh, he can! Ye're a clever one, stranger — I'll gie ye that. But an emperor without a throne be no more than a beggar wi' fine clothes. Tell ye what, if ye be truly an emperor, then I'm a dragon in disguise, waitin' for me wings."
Drayce's now smiled evilly. Something darker flickered behind his golden eyes. A warning was burning within them. As if the dragon had noticed the ant pretending to roar. He took a single step back towards the shopkeeper, leaned in slightly close enough so that his voice didn't have to rise above the crowd. A gloved hand fell on the shopkeeper's shoulder. And he wispered, again.
"A dragon needs no crown… no army… no throne. Only fire. An' this place....."
He leaned closer still, his words barely more than breath,
"It's already marked by 'im."
The shopkeeper froze with laughter still on his lips but now stranded mid-breadth. He caught sight of a serious expression and coughed. Not to forget the way he looked now. Masked annoyance. But Dracye placed again a polite smile on his face and then he turned around to leave, his smile moments ago now slipped away from his lips.
And just like that, Drayce was gone swallowed by the procession's music, the crowd's celebration, and the illusion that the kingdom was still safe.
***
The castle of Elarion shimmered like a crowned jewel against the night, its high towers gleaming with the warm glow of a thousand lanterns, their reflections dancing across marble walls and silver-tiled floors. From above, it looked like the heavens themselves had descended to celebrate. The people below cheered. The streets pulsed with music and color. All of the Elarion rejoiced. But high within the castle, beyond silk-curtained balconies and shimmering corridors one light did not join the others.
She wore her ceremonial garb, layers of pearl-threaded green and dusky rose silk gown, flowing like river light in the dusk. The gown's deep green mirrored the color of her eyes, a vivid, steady hue that once reminded courtiers of spring forests and hidden glades. At her shoulders, a brooch shaped like a crescent moon fastened the fabric which was a symbol of unity, of light, of ancestral blessing. She wore no jewelry, save for the delicate adornments braided into her hair, glinting faintly in the lantern glow.
Inside her chamber, princess Elinessa sat still.