Arian Core
Roselight Brothel, Red House District
Flora stood before the gate marked "21." She knocked, her expression weary and faintly hungover.
The door creaked open to reveal Evelina, her red hair tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep. Wrapped in a white bathrobe, she yawned.
"It's you, Flora… come in," she said with a sigh, stepping aside.
"Why are you still in that bathrobe? The sun's up—and the brothel's about to close," Flora frowned as she entered.
The room was steeped in the scent of drowsy lotus. The candles inside their lanterns were nearly burnt out, and the curtains blocked the daylight. At the center stood a soft bed with clean yet wrinkled white sheets—and upon it sat a man wearing a veil over his face.
"What? The courtesan's still here?" Flora's eyes widened.
"That's a mean thing to say, Lady Flora," the man chuckled, running his fingers through short, soft violet hair. A long, wrapped loincloth covered him from the waist down, but his upper body was bare.
"Babe, why aren't you wearing anything on top? Didn't you notice I was letting her in?" Evelina pouted, her green eyes flashing with mild irritation.
"Evelina, you're barely dressed yourself," Flora sighed.
"That's different—we're both girls." Evelina huffed, grabbing a blanket to cover him.
"Fine. Then tell me—what's going on here?" Flora asked, tugging her white camisole into her black leather coat, which contrasted sharply with her black leggings.
"Um… well…" Evelina's toes traced small circles on the floor as her cheeks flushed. "Soren and I are… lovers."
"That much is obvious—but wait. Soren has violet hair. Didn't you come in here with a black-haired man?"
"Soren asked him to leave. They swapped customers… but that's not the point." Evelina frowned, her blush deepening.
"She means we're together," Soren giggled, pulling Evelina onto his lap.
"Wait, what?" Flora leaned forward, eyes wide. "You're engaged. Do you even grasp what that means? If anyone finds out."
"I know," Evelina murmured, pouting. "But I've loved him for years."
"Are you serious, Lady Iris? We came to the Red House District just to unwind—that's what you said! I knew you didn't love Prince Orion, but I came with you to keep other nobles from finding out!" Flora scolded sharply.
"Shhh! Not so loud, Flora—don't use my real name!" Iris flinched.
"Why shouldn't I? You know perfectly well that if you keep meeting like this, you'll both be executed—or at least imprisoned! Infidelity is a grave crime. I might've helped you hide it if this were a one-time thing." Flora pressed a hand to her forehead, frustration tightening her voice.
"I really love Soren, you know. He's even stopped taking customers since we met." Iris stepped closer, her tone soft.
"How's he working here then, if he's quit?" Flora asked, looking up with clear disdain.
"I'm not working here anymore," Soren said with a gentle smile. "I quit after meeting Iris. Enzo—an old friend from my days here—switched places with me tonight so Iris and I could have some time alone."
"Wait, you quit? That's the first I'm hearing of this…" Iris pouted, turning back to Soren.
Windelfen
Windelfen City
Neighboring the Dragonsvil Mountains—where Arian lies hidden—Windelfen is the Nation of Liberation, where poetry and alcohol reign supreme. Though ruled by elves, it welcomes all. Windelfen isn't bound to where its people stand; it exists wherever people live freely.
Eurus Knights Headquarters
"WHERE ARE THE DRINKS?!"
The shout echoed through the grand marble halls of the headquarters, a building both robust and regal.
A wide red carpet stretched across the floor. Guards in shining silver armor stood at each doorway. The vast main hall was otherwise bare—only a few portraits of past Grandmasters adorned the walls. A chandelier glittered from the high ceiling, and a spiral staircase climbed toward the roof at the center.
An elf in white trousers and a blue military jacket stormed in from the office marked 'Acting Grandmaster.'
"Where's all the booze?" he demanded. "I had ten barrels of wine from the Dusk Brewery—where have they gone?"
"I had them removed," a feminine voice replied from above.
Leaning against the railing of the second floor, she looked down.
"The new Grandmaster—The Sungentle Knight, Frieda Gunnihdr," the elf spat. "You're not the real Grandmaster! When the Knight of Lionheart returns from his expedition, he'll punish you for taking over behind his back!"
"Knight of Lionheart himself told me his expedition is perilous," Frieda said calmly, stepping into the chandelier's light. Her face was delicate, her blue eyes cool, her blonde hair immaculate. Dressed in a white suit with teal undershirt, she exuded quiet command.
"He and his best knights resigned their posts before leaving—knowing they might never return."
"Booze fuels Windelfen economy!" the elf shot back, his tone fierce. "We elves grow up with it—it's tradition, not mere indulgence! You can't strip us of our wine!"
"As a human, I may not fully grasp elven tradition," Frieda replied evenly, "but even the Knight of Lionheart agreed—it's pleasure, not necessity. Keep it outside of work hours, Forester Lawrence." With that, she turned and disappeared into her office.
"Tch… it's because she's human. Can't be helped," Forester muttered, trudging toward his own quarters—only to be stopped by a pair of knights.
"Grandmaster says anyone causing a ruckus without good reason must run a hundred laps around Windelfen City," one said.
"Wait—most of you are elves! You should understand—a knight needs his drink!" Forester's voice cracked with disbelief.
"We respect you, Acting Grandmaster," one replied, "but times are changing. Let's save the drinking for after hours."
Crooked Frost Peak, Arian
Time grows weary here — let it rest.
Snow does not fall on this mountain; it lingers in the air, unmoving until stirred by some distant force. Avalanches have long reclined, their rage quieted, sparing the Crystal Reef Town nestled beneath. The Melting Glacier no longer flows — it, too, has paused to breathe.
The temple atop this snowcapped peak knows no visitors; even it has succumbed to slumber.
The Temple
It is a humble place — built of old wood gnawed by termites that no longer stir. In the courtyard stands a statue of Mother Seraphyx, watching in stillness. A single bell hangs in the prayer hall. Inside, a warm carpet softens the floor, and a quiet hearth holds the only living flame.
Down the stone steps that lead toward Crystal Reef Town, beside a small frozen waterfall, sat a man with silver hair. His eyes were closed. Tall and ethereal, his form shimmered faintly — skin like frosted glass laced with glowing blue veins that pulsed gently beneath the surface.
"Mr. Morven! You're here! I looked everywhere for you!"
A small girl came running up the path, her beige sweater with pink sleeves bright against the snow. Her legs were bundled in thick leggings and woollen socks.
"I told you not to disturb me," Morven murmured, opening his eyes. His voice was soft and husky, his glacial cyan eyes holding an unreadable depth. His robes — woven from mist and fading starlight — drifted lightly around him.
"But it's freezing right now! Even if it's summer, you can't be careless! The weather up here is always winter, remember?" she pouted, grabbing his arm and tugging gently toward the temple.
"I feel at peace out here," Morven sighed, but followed her, letting her cling to his arm.
His pendulum-staff clicked softly against the stone every few steps — though no one had ever dared to count how often.
"Even so, please stay where I know you won't catch a cold." She smiled as they stepped into the temple's warmth.
"Fine. I'll listen for now, Greta. Let go of my arm," he said bluntly in his low voice and sank onto the carpet.
"Don't you want something to eat?" Greta asked. Her brown hair, dusted with snow, slowly melted as the heat embraced her.
"I'm not hungry. You know that." His tone was edged with quiet disdain.
"I still want you to eat… Everyone's afraid to come here. No one visits, and we don't have much food… but I still want you to eat," she said, her voice trembling with urgency.
"Why?" Morven exhaled, the question heavy in the air.
"Because… I want you to stay," she whispered. "If you leave me, there won't be anyone here anymore…"
Her grip on his arm tightened before she slowly let go.
"I'll make something in the kitchen. Stay here — and don't move."