Cylus 22, Arc 717
Tristan furrowed his brow as he looked at the letter that he had found on his doorstep a few bits earlier. Some guy named Perceval Tabard (what kind of name was that anyway?) wanted him to make a sculpture for his museum. Of course he was good – better than all of the other sculptors in the kingdom in fact – but it still surprised him that Perceval had heard of him. Apparently, he realized, his reputation had spread beyond the borders of Rynmere. He wondered what he was supposed to think about the fact that somebody in a city he had never visited knew his name, and then he came to the conclusion that he liked it a lot. He was probably more famous than all of the other Venoras combined now!
Perceval hadn’t mentioned exactly what kind of sculpture he wanted though. He had just written something about a vision of Etzori might and a High Marshal Parhn who was probably the leader of Etzos as well as a proud and unyielding history. He had no idea what was so proud and unyielding about Etzos. Had they fought off a horde of monsters? Had there been a civil war or two, like in Rynmere? Had they defended their city against an enemy whose army had been twice as strong as their own army? He let out a deep sigh as he realized how little he knew about the city he would be working for and what that meant. Doing a shoddy job and just making a random sculpture for such an important client was unfortunately not an option!
“I think I’ll have to visit the library”, he informed his cat that sat on the table in front of him. “I don’t want to. Libraries are boring, and you always have to be quiet when you are there! I hate being quiet!” Mistral who was probably part demon or a failed necromantic experiment, depending on who you asked, just stared at him from out of his sulfur-yellow eyes without blinking and then turned his back on him. He wasn’t interested in whatever unpleasant things his owner was forced to do in the name of his job. His job was much more demanding anyway. He was the leader of a cat gang, and he was just thinking about which cats and dogs in the neighbourhood he would be terrorizing next.
Since Mistral wasn’t particularly helpful, Tristan just grabbed his coat and a lantern – it was dark outside, as it always was in Cylus no matter what the time of the trial – and went on his way, leaving Mistral to his evil plotting once more. Perhaps, he thought, as he walked towards his destination, he should have paid more attention in school, especially to his geography lessons rather than drawing and making up stories all the time. The visit to the library might have been unnecessary then. His older cousin Alistair who would most likely be Duke one trial probably knew everything about every city in Idalos.
Tristan furrowed his brow as he looked at the letter that he had found on his doorstep a few bits earlier. Some guy named Perceval Tabard (what kind of name was that anyway?) wanted him to make a sculpture for his museum. Of course he was good – better than all of the other sculptors in the kingdom in fact – but it still surprised him that Perceval had heard of him. Apparently, he realized, his reputation had spread beyond the borders of Rynmere. He wondered what he was supposed to think about the fact that somebody in a city he had never visited knew his name, and then he came to the conclusion that he liked it a lot. He was probably more famous than all of the other Venoras combined now!
Perceval hadn’t mentioned exactly what kind of sculpture he wanted though. He had just written something about a vision of Etzori might and a High Marshal Parhn who was probably the leader of Etzos as well as a proud and unyielding history. He had no idea what was so proud and unyielding about Etzos. Had they fought off a horde of monsters? Had there been a civil war or two, like in Rynmere? Had they defended their city against an enemy whose army had been twice as strong as their own army? He let out a deep sigh as he realized how little he knew about the city he would be working for and what that meant. Doing a shoddy job and just making a random sculpture for such an important client was unfortunately not an option!
“I think I’ll have to visit the library”, he informed his cat that sat on the table in front of him. “I don’t want to. Libraries are boring, and you always have to be quiet when you are there! I hate being quiet!” Mistral who was probably part demon or a failed necromantic experiment, depending on who you asked, just stared at him from out of his sulfur-yellow eyes without blinking and then turned his back on him. He wasn’t interested in whatever unpleasant things his owner was forced to do in the name of his job. His job was much more demanding anyway. He was the leader of a cat gang, and he was just thinking about which cats and dogs in the neighbourhood he would be terrorizing next.
Since Mistral wasn’t particularly helpful, Tristan just grabbed his coat and a lantern – it was dark outside, as it always was in Cylus no matter what the time of the trial – and went on his way, leaving Mistral to his evil plotting once more. Perhaps, he thought, as he walked towards his destination, he should have paid more attention in school, especially to his geography lessons rather than drawing and making up stories all the time. The visit to the library might have been unnecessary then. His older cousin Alistair who would most likely be Duke one trial probably knew everything about every city in Idalos.
