Morning of the Blessings Festival and the entire kingdom was transformed instantly into a paradise of colour. Streamers and flowers hung out of every window, food stalls filled with smoked meats and freshly brewed ale all waiting to be served to hungry customers. It was the one time of year that Lir tries to give to the less fortunate, hiring some as servers or workers to help with the crowds. The merchants wouldn’t pay them of course but they would provide food which for many, might be the last hot meal they’ll have for a year. 

People from across the lands would come to Lir to sell their exotic finery and rare trinkets, the kingdom prided itself on trade and flourished when all other kingdoms were wrecked by disease or famine. No one knew where this miraculous boon of luck Lir possessed but it lasted for centuries and saw no signs of slipping….that was until this year.

King Cronhe was getting older and he had no heir, at least no recognized heir. That was a growing concern for the Lir nobility, for they knew that rival kingdoms that were jealous of Lir’s prosperity would make a grab for the empty throne once Cronhe passed. Several nobles have been making subtle moves to the path of succession as it was very likely Cronhe was going to leave the throne to a stewart. 

For now, the matters of the crown were put aside for a bit of merriment, Praetor Ludwig watched the festival being set up from afar, seeing Ewen with the performers rehearsing lines and making last minute changes. What was done was done, he said to himself, the decision he made couldn’t be revoked even if he wanted to. He had sixty years to prove himself and failed, now Ewen would have to continue where he could not. Ewen was a young man of boldness, he was stout-hearted and compassionate, crafty instead of a brute. Perhaps those qualities would be enough to save Lir and the Veil, he didn’t know and now he'll never know. 

“Child?” The fox kept his voice down and hopped on Ludwig’s bed, “The Unkindness have judged Ewen and found him worthy.” 

“That’s good,” Ludwig’s voice was absent, too busy being lost in thoughts, in memories, “Ewen was always a special boy. Please…protect him.”

“I can’t make that promise.” The fox said and scratched his ear, “Mortals are frustrating to deal with.” Ludwig chuckled and coughed, a bit of blood on his sleeve that he quickly wiped on his robes. It was starting, soon his life will be gone.

“Yet you depend on them.” 

“Yet we depend on them.” The fox’s ears perked up as the caws grew louder, “Ludwig.”

“Can I see him? Please.” The older man begged and the fox looked down, “Foolish of me to make such a request, I failed him in so many ways and I was the closest. My fear of my desires made me so weak.”

“Yes.” The fox says bluntly and Ludwig belly laughs into another coughing fit, “Ludwig!”

“Don’t worry old friend, I don’t plan on going any time soon.” There was a knock on the door, sending the fox into hiding as Ewen entered his master’s room with his hair in a neat braid that hung over his left shoulder. He was stunning in a cool blue tunic with white billowy sleeves and dark blue tights. Ludwig always wanted to dress Ewen in finer garments but the pay he received as a Praetor was only enough to support them and their work. Still, the younger man flashed a bright smile and walked further inside. “Ah, you look very distinguished, Ewen.” 

“Thank you sir,” Ewen said and nervously teased his braid, “Are you ready to head down the festival?” 

“Ah yes, yes.” The older Praetor laughed and stifled his cough, “Oh, Ewen could you retrieve the Mastaneth accords on the shelf to the left? I want something to read before you show.” And Ewen nods, sprinting to the shelf to scan the books when an odd coloured spine catches his eye and he lifts it from the shelf. He’s never seen this book before, the poor thing was barely holding together with the pages coming loose from the glue faded. Ewen scanned the pages curiously and he couldn’t believe it, these were stories, fairy tales that he’s never read before. “Ewen?”

“S-sorry sir. It’s just…this book,” Ewen returned from the shelf with his head still in the book, “I’ve never seen this one before…it can’t be new, the condition of it is so…ancient.” 

“My, my that is quite the relic. I wonder where it came from?” The sadness in Ludwig’s voice was lost on Ewen, who was absorbed into the pages. 

“The Ballad of the King of Black Birds…” Ewen whispered, Ludwig gently took the book from his young scribe. 

“You’ll have plenty of time to read this later…come, the Festival awaits.” 

“Y-yes! Of course!” Ewen slipped his arm around Ludwig’s as they both walked to the door, “King of Black Birds. That sounds like an awfully good story.” And Ludwig blinks the tears from his eyes, patting Ewen’s hand as the two walk down the stairs together.

 “I hope it is Ewen, I hope it is.”

After escorting Ludwig to his chair in the viewing box with the other Praetors, Ewen quickly rushed to Cray’s tent just as he was getting an earful from Sir Antonius who turned to Ewen with a mean glare before it mellowed almost like he was struck by the young man’s presence. Ewen was too busy staring at Cray in the copper armor, it was old and showing rust but it held up on his admittedly more robust frame. He looked foolish but also very handsome, at least to Ewen. 

“Boy, you better be getting something from this.” The older Sir Antonius barked and smacked Cray in the back of his head enough to almost tilt him over. Of all the Lir knight, Sir Antonius was the oldest and the strongest, he was likened to a bear with his massive bulking frame, thick salt and pepper hair, there was a hint of the gentle man he once was in his brown eyes but the heavy dark circles spoke of the many sleepless nights he had. Sir Antonius once had a son, a boy that would’ve been Cray’s age but long ago he was killed in a Fae beast attack just outside Lir. His heart broke and never mended. 

“I am! A chance to perform for the king is a great honor!” Cray said proudly and straightened himself up, “Please look upon me with pride, master.” Sir Antonius snorted and scratched his beard then turned to Ewen with a heated glare. He approached the smaller man and loomed over him as if he was a mountain, all Cray could do was try to peek over the bulk that was his master.

“Hmm, the beautiful boy with his head in the clouds.”

“A-as I’ve been told,” Ewen tried to put a little more deepness in his voice and clears his throat, “I promise you, I will make sure Cray will put on the best performance for the king and court.” Antonius smirks and stomps past Ewen, something about that man seemed familiar to Ewen and he turned just in time to see the back of his head.

The large brute in the shed…it was Antonius.

Cray gently placed his hand on Ewen’s shoulder and he jumped from shock.

“Don’t mind my master,” Cray smiled and tugged on his breastplate, “He’ll enjoy the show like everyone else.”

“Thank you Cray for agreeing to do this.” And Cray’s smile widens causing Ewen to blush, “Are you ready?”

“Now or never!” Both Cray and Ewen exit the tent and navigate the grounds to join with the other performers, Ewen looks at Gwyndolin as she finishes a quick prayer with her family and sends them to their places. Elisse seemed so sad and before he had a chance to say anything to her, she blew past him like a breeze. Tears locked in her eyes.

He wondered why?