The welcome feast for the Trienniel Summer Summit was a vast affair, held in the great dining hall of the Okan residence. As Taowren and his fellow clan members approached, he could see even at a distance that the hall was a large white stone structure with a wide roof held up by grand, towering pillars. The pillars were covered in intricate carvings of heavenly spirits, with each pillar representing the type of spirit associated with each of the twelve Heavenly Peaks. Taowren marvelled up at them. He knew that the Nightingale was considered one of the smaller noble clans of Turo, but stepping through the large oak doors into the hall truly made him feel the difference between the prestige of the Okan clan and his own one. He remembered the sense of awe he felt when he had approached the gates of Nightingale Manor for the first time. The ancient seat of the Nightingale clan would have looked like a simple barn next to this immense structure.
Otherworldly in its beauty, the great dining hall was well lit by hundreds of candles mounted on the walls, while each table had a towering oil lamp as the centrepiece. The long, dark, elegant oak tables lined one half of the immense hall near the dais, each protected by painted bamboo table coverings painted with delicate images of clouds, mountains, and wolves.
Walking as a single unit, the Nightingale family passed by a band playing music that filled the air with light melodies, towards their hosts, all of whom were dressed in the Okan Clan’s banner colours of blue, lilac and white. Lord Balin was a tall and stern looking man, appearing older than Lord Tanno by about a decade; he was taller than both Brayandli and his half-sister Bayfolin. Taowren shivered. Tomar had not been joking. Balin had such a severity of expression that Taowren had mistaken the deep crease between his eyebrows as yet another battle scar. His beard was white-grey, short and neat as a warrior’s. Although clad in his ornate robes of office Taowren could sense his military bearing in his posture and how he held himself. This was obviously a man who knew how to handle a sword, if not a battle axe, and Taowren saw thin, white scars lacing the back of the calloused hands folded across his chest.
“Lord Tanno.” Their host’s voice was deep and husky, but there was a certain warmness to it as he clapped Taowren’s uncle on the shoulder, before surprising even Taowren when he pulled him into a brief one-armed hug. Taowren was aware the two Lords were close; Lord Tanno had served as a battle medic under Lord Balin in the Poachers War before he was born, and their comradery was evident in the way they sized each other up with their eyes and spoke in casual tones as they stood back. “It has been too long!” “And yet the summit comes around faster every time, it seems.” Lord Tanno responded dryly, but with a smile on his face. “You remember my lady wife, Quin.” Lord Balin gave a polite but impersonal bow to Lady Quin, who returned it, smiling silently.
Whilst the elders spoke, Bayfolin and Brayandli dutifully took on the task of greeting the younger members of the clan, both offering polite ‘hellos’ and bows to Taowren and his cousins. While Bayfolin engaged the twins in polite conversation, Brayandli’s eyes ran over Taowren, and his eyes widened; Tomei had combed and tied her cousin’s usually messy and unkempt hair back into an elaborate half-ponytail, giving the world a rare look at Taowren’s face without his hair’s usual snags and tangles. Taowren had a heart-shaped face that was on the softer side, littered with a scattering of freckles. His eyebrows were short, dark and thick, but seldom visible when he let his hair hang loose. Unlike in the earlier hours of the day, Taowren was also wearing a short sword at his waist, his sash gold and contrasting brightly the rest of his brown and black formal robes.
It was quite the difference compared to the unruly-looking youth Brayandli had bumped into before. Although Taowren still wore the rings in his nose and lower lip, as well as bangles on his wrists and delicate chains on one ankle, he undeniably looked a lot less wild and more like a member of the noble class than he had earlier in the day. Brayandli realised he was tilting his head at him and had not spoken.
In response, Taowren grinned up at Brayandli toothily. This was the second time Taowren had met either of the Okan heirs, and the first time he had seen them together. Picturesque they certainly were, but Taowren found himself surprised by how different their stature’s were to one another. Both Brayandli and his sister had the Okan Clan’s signature silver-white hair and wolf-like eyes, but Bayfolin’s hair was wild, falling down her back like the mane of some wild beast. Brayandli’s hair fell in a single straight curtain where it was not pulled back into a high bun. Bayfolin had eyes that were a brilliant blue, whilst Brayandli’s were so pale they were almost colourless. His half-sister was about twice his age, and much more broadly built; she was, in fact, even a little taller than her brother—which was saying something, for Brayandli himself was at least six foot tall—with thicker arms and sturdier legs. Taowren found himself thinking again that Bayfolin was, indeed, a very handsome woman. She was not as androgynous as young Willow, but one would not describe her as feminine. It would be more fitting to call Bayfolin fierce – as fierce as a she-wolf defending her cubs -- whilst Brayandli seemed almost tame by comparison.
In truth, as Taowren looked around and took in the appearances of the other Okan elders, it became quite evident who was bonded to a wolf and who was not; every one of the younger generation was slender and elfin looking, whilst the older the Okan member was, the wilder they seemed. It would appear that the Okan’s Gifted markings did not stop at birth but developed as they grew older, or as their bond to their wolf spirit grew stronger. It was only as he turned his eyes back to Lord Balin, Bayfolin and Brayandli that Taowren also noticed all of the more wolfish and wild-looking members all wore ivory pendants around their necks in the shape of three moons. Evidently when one bonded, this token was given to them to commemorate it.
At Bayfolin’s direction, the Nightingale Clan’s members took their seats at one of the large tables, and Taowren observed the remaining clans as they all swept into the room. Tomei whispered various names and pointed at multiple faces, trying to give Taowren a vague sense of who was who and where they were from. It would be a difficult endeavour for anyone, even one familiar with the clans, to remember such a list; all Taowren gathered from it was that each clan had preferred colours and motifs. The Tien clan’s colours appeared to be golds, pinks and reds; the Hanlen clan preferred blacks, greens and silvers; the Okan clan tended towards pale hues of blue, lilac and white. The Inyue clan were obviously affiliated with spirit boars and bears, as all of the family lineage had earth element foundations, thus their robes all had some form of tusked hogs decorated in deep browns, greens and yellows.
While his ability to remember the litany of whispered names was lacking, Taowren found he was able to make out who was Gifted and Chosen quite easily. Young Master Mobai of the Tien clan was bonded to a young phoenix. He had entered the hall with the bright red and gold creature on his shoulder, and had transferred it to a fine wooden perch at the end of their table where it preened its bright plumage in the candlelight, sending occasional lances of colour across the assembled nobles. It was obvious who Mobai was, for the markings of the Chosen were rife upon his body; his hair was flaming red and, though tied back in a high ponytail, it seemed to float down his back almost as if it were aflame itself. His face glittered in the light of the oil lantern, revealing the gold and orange scales shimmering around his neck and chin. They were a perfect match for those on the scaled legs of his bond partner.
There were, in fact, a number of Chosen and their spirits present, including several of the Okan’s great wolves, who were sitting stoically upon a dais behind the head table where the Okan clan were seated. It wasn’t Taowren’s first time seeing heavenly spirits— his great aunt, Lady Munn, was bound to a rooster spirit, so he had seen that specific beast a number of times at formal dinners, when she deigned to leave her cottage - but it was his first time seeing so many in one place.
Overcome with curiosity, Taowren leaned over and asked Tomei, “Has everyone who is Chosen brought their bond?”
“Ha, no.” Tomar replied before Tomei could, “You see at the Okan head table over there? The one with the scars across his face? That’s Scout. His wolf doesn’t even come onto the Okan grounds.”
“Why not?” Taowren squinted over at the Okan clan’s tables. Most of the group had taken their seats, but from this distance he was having a hard time telling one person apart from the other; they all had white or grey hair, and all wore pale robes—except for Willow, who wore a trim of black instead of white, but she wasn’t seated among the head family’s table, instead at another table with the outer-lying branches.
“His wolf has a bad temperament, they say,” Tomar shrugged, “or their bond isn’t good. It depends who you ask.”
“The Tien clan normally don’t bring their spirits inside either. Most of their Gifted are bonded with fire types so it’s a bit of a hazard.” Tomei murmured, pointing surreptitiously to a table of people dressed in pink and red. “Mobai’s phoenix is only here because their bond is fresh.”
“You mean he wants to show off.” Tomar snorted. “But anyway, the Summer Summit is less about the Gifted and more about the clans forming trade agreements and strengthening alliances across Turo; none of the Hanlen, Colt or Drake clans have any Gifted members at all. The Hanlen control all of the iron ore, the Drake clan control a lot of the coastal trade, and the Colt clan are known for their coal mines. Then there’s the Culkin clan—they get invited to every summit, but only one or two members ever show up, if any; they're a clan based on the cliffs of the Hellish Falls. Their primary focus is on maintaining the barriers to keep the Hellish Falls from erupting, so they seldom attend or get involved with inter-clan politics at all.”
“Oh,” Taowren heard the words trade agreements and alliances and immediately his mind turned itself onto other topics. He had absolutely no interest in discussing who had what resource and how much this ore was being sold for over that mineral; what inconceivably dull dinner conversation!
Taowren idly turned his eyes to the Hanlen clan, spotting Yan in the middle of the fray, appearing to have just finished telling a witty tale of some kind as the other clan members around him laughed; Taowren frowned. It was obvious even from here that Yan was popular among his peers.
“Yan’s popular?” He couldn’t help but comment on it.
“Within his own clan, yes.” Tomar immediately sour plum-ed, whilst Tomei looked down at her fan with sudden interest.
“Yan’s well known for his good looks.” Tomei murmured, and then added with a sigh, “But also his narrow-mindedness. It’s a shame, really. I only ever hear good things about his brothers.”
“Tell me about the Hanlen clan, then.” Taowren’s interest only increased; if Tomei didn’t like someone with a face that handsome, he had to be a real piece of work.
“You see the man with the cane? That’s Yan’s father, Lord Rosel Hanlen.” Tomei murmured. Taowren saw a man who had probably looked strikingly like his son in his youth in every way but for their eyes—Yan’s were the same pale green as his mother’s, whilst his father’s were pitch black. He was a very thin man, and it was evident that he had been plagued by some kind of illness when he spoke, for he coughed and wheezed between sentences, constantly holding a handkerchief to his mouth. Clutched in his left hand, Taowren could make out the tell-tale sparkle of polished silver shining between his fingers – it seemed Lord Rosel walked with a cane.
Taowren noticed that beside Lord Rosel was a woman of obvious Red Sands heritage; her eyes were jade green and her long curling hair was a warm yellow. She sat elegantly beside her husband, solemnly patting the back of his hand every time he coughed. Beside her was Yan, and his three sisters; all of them looked so similar it was hard to tell the three girls apart. Each was dressed from neck to toe in black, green and silver, and the girls had not even the skin of their fingers on display, instead hiding their hands and wrists beneath elegant lace gloves. Taowren supposed it might be some kind of Red Sands fashion, for he had never seen any gloves on girls like that in the south.
“I thought Yan was the youngest son of the Hanlen clan.” Taowren said, glancing over the rest of the Hanlen table but finding no-one who looked even remotely like Yan and his sisters, nor anyone who wore the Hanlen crest on a pin at their breast. There were certainly no brothers at the table.
“He is.” Tomei leaned in closer. “Yan has two older half-brothers, but they do not travel outside of their province—you see how sickly his father is? They all suffered from the same illness, but the brothers fared much worse. He had an older half-sister too, but she died.”
“The Iron Lands are close to the Hellish Falls. There was a demonic plague that erupted from there some years back,” Tomar added, for both cousins knew full well that there was no absolutely no way Taowren remembered that history lesson. “The Culkin clan suppressed it before it spread too far west, but not before it hit the Iron Lands.”
“To be honest,” Tomei murmured, “I think that’s why he’s so popular in his clan—his brothers are both invalids, so he’s known as the Darling of the Hanlen. Either one of them might inherit the title, but Yan will be the one travelling and handling trade agreements and such. The Hanlen clan control all the iron mines in the region, so the rest of the clans have had to learn to tolerate Yan so we don’t offend his father. Or rather his mother, Lady Swari—she controls more of the clan’s trading affairs than Rosel does these days.”
“One of the many reasons you should absolutely avoid him, Taown.” Tomar added with a knowing frown. “Yan likes to needle people, and I know what you’re like. It would bring great shame on father and on the clan if you ended up in some childish brawl with him because he provoked you and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”
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