The charecter development thickens.

Talleth wandered down the row of shops, smiling broadly and whistling the tune that his father had taught him so many years ago. With his thumbs tucked into his belt and the happy mood he projected, many of the market’s patrons stopped to give him a smile or a wave. One store keeper, a big man with a cheerful grin, even went so far as to toss the tall youth an apple, one which was deftly caught.

“Thank you my good man!” he called, taking a big bite of the juicy red apple.

With an even broader smile, the young man continued down the market, no longer whistling, as he savoured the tasty apple. Things tasted sweeter when they were free.

Behind him a commotion began, resolving itself into the shape of several armed men running down the street. With a glance backward, Talleth stepped to the side, letting the City Patrol pass by, even casting a curious glance after them.

“What do you suppose the fuss is?” He asked a woman to his left.
“It has to be that bandit, Varako,” announced the rather rotund lady, nodding sharply. “He’s been robbing banks, stealing from the city’s treasury, and even had the nerve to steal the Prince’s gift for his sweet heart, the lovely Gabriella.

Talleth’s eyebrows rose slightly. “I heard that the Lady received the present.” He replied offhand, before taking another bite from the apple.

The woman nodded. “Aye, that she did, with a note saying that it was from a secret admirer, one who would always cherish and protect her.” The old lady’s voice crackled with derision. “The nerve of that villain!”

Talleth laughed good naturedly, “Right you are Ma’am, perhaps it’s time something was done yes?”

“High time indeed!”

With a tip of his cap, Talleth moved on down the street, following the flow of people who filled in the wake of the Patrol. With his roguish smile and confident manner, many of the young ladies rewarded him with coy glances and lowered eye lids. It helped that he was quite handsome too, with well groom mid length black hair and a striking green doublet.

The city’s Bell began to tool.

“Ahh,” sighed Talleth knowingly, stepping smoothly into a side street. “The Prince has come.”

Walking further down, the broad shouldered young man glanced around quickly to make sure he was along. Then without a word, he vanished.

***

Cerion stared hard at the mirror, trying to figure out what was wrong with the way his hair was arranged. Short spikes were out of the question, too much like his brother, yet that only left him with long hair that covered his face, something that his fiancé despised.

“You know, if you stay in her any longer Cer, you’ll start putting down roots.”

Not surprised by the intrusion, Cerion stepped to the side to put his beloved Azreal into view.

“Am I really that late?” he asked, sounding slightly plaintive.

“Not really, however I know how long you like to stare at your captivating beauty, so I thought I’d drop by. The bells will sound in a few minutes.

“Minutes!” Spluttered the hydromancer, fumbling desperately for oil to add to his already slick plumage.

“Relax dear, let me,” suggested Azreal as she began to work her wind weaving.

“I thought I told you that I didn’t like it when…”

“Hush dear,” said Azreal as she called a mask into the room from the wardrobe behind.

“Why do I have to wear a mask?” He whined

“Because it’s a masquerade dear.” Replied his beloved calmly. “What is it with your family, you guys love to complain.”

“Really?” How’s Orion? Still learning to control the fire?”
“I think he’s getting the hang of it. I haven’t had to suffocate him in about three days now, and he promised not to combust while we’re at the party.”

Cerion chuckled. “Party? It’s a coronation ceremony my darling! You know, the biggest social and political event this country has seen in almost a decade?”

Azreal laughed lightly, a rippling and extraordinarily pleasing sound that made Cerion’s heart beat a little faster.

“I’d hope so; I don’t do my hair like this everyday.”

For the first time since she had stepped into the room Cerion actually took notice of his soon to be wife. At that moment, he resolved to do so more often.

Azreal was beautiful, nay exquisite. Her gown was deep blue velvet that managed to shimmer in the light of the candles which surrounded them, yet it didn’t shine so brightly as to detract from the lady herself. The hem crumpled into the floor, yet even the crumples seemed like waves from which she was rising to display her remarkable beauty. Her long black hair was delicately piled in soft braids that seemed to intertwine with remarkable complexity and grace, and it ended in a cascade of brilliant curls which both reached long past her shoulders, yet hinted at the curve of her neck. Small diamonds and pearls were woven into her hair, and at her throat was a brilliant sapphire pendant, cut in the shape of a diamond, with a swirl of white gold as the setting.

“All done honey,” said Azreal as she broke the three minute long silence. “You can pick your jaw up on the way out.” Without another word, the Wind Weaver left, leaving the swishing of her gown behind her.

Cerion rubbed his chin ruefully as he strode out of his private bathroom. To himself he thought. ‘I am the LUCKIEST man on earth… and let no one forgot it!’

***