On the day of spring’s return the city of Askr explodes into noise, shouts of vendors, and bartering echo about, making it near impossible to hear those around you. Creatures of all kinds shove past one another, desperately trying to obtain rare items before it’s too late. There is little regard for others as the crowd pushes along, and amongst them is a spot of gold. A small furry figure in obnoxiously bright yellow is forced forward by the throng. Under the hood is a tabaxi man, well a boy, eyes darting about, searching for cheap goods. His pupils become slits as he hones in on something familiar. A small booth comprised of tattered canvas sheets with a tabaxi woman shouting out her wares sits amongst all the chaos.

Slinking through the sea of legs the boy struts to the booth, leaning towards the woman.

“Hello hello! What have you got?” He grins.

“Oh, aren’t you cute! Haven’t seen you about, tell me where are you from?” The shopkeep responds.

“Oh, just uh Gunvald,” he responds, smile dropping a tad. “Names Jasper, just trying to get some goods in town then head out.”

Jasper shuffles his feet and refreshes his toothy smile.

“No worries, names Lavinia, now why don’t you take a look,” Lavinia gestures to a stack of crooked crates and slanted shelves that house odd bottles and piles of leather.

The two go back and forth exchanging pleasantries and arguing on the price of leather before Jasper saunters away, smothering his bright yellow clothes in a muted brown leather cloak.

Entering the square from the right garnering a great deal of attention is a young man. A remarkably unusual-looking one at that, his skin was stoney and cracked contrasted by his eyes that were clouded in a glowing teal hue. Nervous and aware of the stares he rushes through, heading for Lavinia’s, hoping to be rid of the crowd. His hurry is interrupted however by a group of children pushing past. He stumbles back and follows their path to a simple stall, swarmed with kids. Behind it, a baker is desperately trying to meet the demand of twenty-odd kids.

“I know, I understand, you’re all very hungry, the oven can’t fit that many at a time!” The baker shouts, flinging small glossy loaves into the outstretched hands of as many kids as he can but is still met with more demands. 

Chuckling to himself the stony man moves over to watch, waving to the baker to signal his presence. The baker sighs in response and gently tosses a fresh loaf to him.

Leaning over the bustling crowd of kids the stone man yells, “I’m Hallyr, I noticed you were, well, are, struggling with the stand a bit.”

Releasing another heavy sigh the baker reaches a hand over the counter, “I’m Thale, and yes, I’m struggling.”

As their hands close a ring of runes and teal light encircles their arms, traveling from Hallyr’s arm then up Thale’s to his shoulder. A shudder passes from Hallyr to Thale and Hallyr smiles.

“Oh,  a magic user I see, what spell was that?” Thale asks.

“Nothing much, but you should be able to work faster with that, to keep up with the swarm,” Hallyr says, gesturing to the crowd of kids that has somehow grown.

Hallyr waves goodbye and bites into his free loaf, covering his mouth to hide the encroaching coy smile.

From the crowd, there is a jingle, a collection of metal clanking on metal, and bits of wood clacking together. The source of the noise is an aarakocra woman, clad in dark robes but their simplicity is mitigated by the sash running across her torso. The sash creates a musical accompaniment for her every step, drawing eyes from Hallyr and his odd ‘complexion’. Her bird eyes scan the crowd, and she spots her target. A smithery; the woman confidently strides there and begins her business. Her words are sharp and commanding.

“I need something special, an engagement gift, a knife. Soon. I’ll do what it takes to get any materials. What would that cost?” She stretches her muscular arms and peers down at the smith.

“I’ll need Asksolv, the traditional metal for this thing, then 500.” The smith responds.

With few words the transaction concludes and the woman turns, 500 coins less and a mission on her mind. She turns to leave before a thud of sorts draws her gaze to a set of carnival games. A cloaked individual is sinking shot after shot into a target, so many that the game master begins to wave their hands to cut it off. The archer lowers their bow and sighs. They catch Aera’s stare and smirk. 

“I see a bow on your back, care to play a game?” They ask.

“I’m dreadfully good you know,” she replies before pulling out her bow.

Confidently she knocks her arrow and fires, the arrow whistles and lands just shy of the bullseye. She clicks her tongue but steps back to allow her opponent to fire. He lands a shot but misses the center ring. The two go back and forth, sharing a few chuckles at odd shots and impressed nods at particularly good ones. 

Eventually, the carnival barker steps in front saying, “Alright! There’s enough arrows stuck in the damn thing!”

“Rhiodr by the way,” says the archer, extending a hand.

“Aera,” she says curtly, taking the hand firmly.

As the two give nods and turn from each other they hear the crowd's usual loudness interrupted by a shudder of apprehension, followed by murmurs. Emerging into the square, accompanied by several guards, were figures dressed in white. Stark contrasts to the colorful square the entourage of four drew attention. Aera and Rhiodr drift to the scene, curious as to what the tension is about.

“Ah, it’s Arild, councilman, lots of differing views about him. Then his wife and daughters, they’re the pacifists. Though a lot of people don’t particularly favor that view,” Rhiodr explains under his breath. 

As Aera and Rhiodr watch the fanfare starts and the crowd gathers to watch Arild and his cohort prepare a speech. Jasper and Hallyr find themselves amongst the crowd of onlookers. Converging together they each catch the other's attention. Jasper's bright yellow clothes, Hallyr’s odd disposition, and Aera’s symphony of sound all announce their presence in the crowd. Glances are exchanged briefly as they all become aware of each other.

 

Audiobook excerpt:

 

A single hushed word ripples through the crowd, turning a few heads in its direction.

“Go.” 

For an instant, no one reacts to the dulled sound of metal meeting flesh. Then the gap of silence is filled, there are yells, cries, and hurried footsteps.  Heads whip around for a perpetrator amongst the mob. Spreading out in a wave, guards part the people, roughly forcing their way through. Jasper’s eyes dart through the sea, and with no clear view, he can’t make out what it is that’s happened. Hearing the screams he begins to move, hoping for an exit. As he bolts he senses a soft hand brush him, then a weight lifting off of him. 

“Shit,” he hisses. Someone just lifted his coin bag.

With precision, he singles in on a figure slipping through the crowd, sees his bag, and gives chase. In a matter of seconds, he pounces, putting the thief in a headlock and they quickly tumble to the ground. They struggle for a moment before Jasper pries his bag from their hands. With a swift kick to his stomach, they turn and flee. Jasper gasps for air and lies on his back for a moment, groaning. Looking up from his position he finally realizes what’s happened. Lying in front of the crowd is the councilman’s wife. Her pure white gossamer gown now turning red. Her delicate neck is interrupted by a dagger, dripping with a potent enough poison that its verdant green hue is visible from afar. Bolting up, Jasper hurries back, trying to pick up pieces of conversation as he goes.

Jasper spots Hallyr crouched by the woman’s body, desperately trying to resuscitate her, while her husband looks on calling her name in hopes of a response. With each spell washing over her body and taking no effect Hallyr loses more hope.

“I-I’m sorry, she’s dead, I can’t revive her. Whatever that poison was it killed her instantly,” Hallyr mutters, hanging his head. Yet another poor victim his magic proved too weak to cure.

Aera steps forward from the crowd, proudly presenting a wriggling body.

“I found this one, seems he did it.” As Aera confidently holds out the small man he draws another dagger. Aera reaches for it but reacts too late. In a swift motion, the blade sinks into his neck, and just like the councilman’s wife he takes a labored breath and goes limp in Aera’s hands. Sickeningly beautiful poison drips down his chest, mixing with the rich red, painting the square in festive color.

Chapter 1 (excerpt) - Equinox.mp4