[center][h3]The Exile
Morning of the Hunt[/h3][/center]


Illian was a beautiful city. It was a fact Torin was forced to admit to himself, as much as his Tairen blood rebelled against the notion. The roads were paved and most of the buildings were made of stone; graceful bridges arched over the many canals, which were teeming with boats of various shapes and sizes. For such a huge city it looked so clean, nothing at all like the muddy, fetid streets that crisscrossed Tear. It was colourful and lively at all times, but now that the celebrations surrounding the Great Hunt had begun it was an awe-inspiring sight. 

Astride his black courser, he had a good view of the festivities stretching along the richly adorned streets. All around him men and women, wearing clothes each more garishly coloured than the next, were making marry, laughing and shouting as they soaked themselves in wine. The sea of voices was joined by the symphony of a thousand different lutes, flutes and Light knew what else, creating an overpowering din that drowned out individual sources of sound. 

Such a vigorous display of life and vibrancy could not be passed by without some comment, Torin thought, lest his hosts think he was too petty to admit it. Thus, he allowed himself to show a measure of the astonishment he genuinely felt, remarking to Lord Haron and his wife that the stories surrounding Illian’s glory did it no justice. 

Torin kept quiet for the most part, preferring to soak in the sights and sounds, while Lord Haron told him the local history or pointed out a building of interest. He felt a pang of regret for not allowing Rosario and Nalin to attend this great celebration by sending them to the docks, but on the other hand, the festival had probably reached there as well; commoners and dock-hands in particular liked nothing more than an occasion to drink themselves blind. 

Lord Haron was pleasant company, not only because he was an erudite, entertaining speaker, but because in everything he did there was a sense of purpose and he made no effort to conceal that. Torin admired such strength, though it was also somewhat frightening and he was not deaf to the rumours surrounding his cousin. Still, that did not stop Torin from speaking his mind in his usual blunt manner. Even if his host should take offense, what of it? He had nothing left to lose apart from his life and it was not worth much these days. 

However, contrary to Torin’s initial expectations, the Illianer councillor didn’t mind his bold words, he seemed to enjoy them in fact. Men as powerful as Lord Haron always attracted flunkies and hangers-on, all too content to repeat their master’s words and embrace his ideas, giving no voice to their own. Perhaps Torin’s bluntness served as a nice reprieve from that. 

They made their way through the packed Square and up the raised platform, where the other dignitaries were already waiting. Waiting on Lord Haron, to be precise, Torin noted. From such a vantage point, it was easy to take in the entire Square in all its splendour. If he had thought that the city was loud before, it was absolutely deafening here, at the centre of it all. For a man who had spent the majority of his life in olive groves and quiet coastal towns, it was an almost overwhelming experience. 

“My mother always said that the Council’s guidance gave Illian the edge it needed to compete with us and seeing the magnificence of the Square, I’m inclined to agree.” He replied, turning towards Lord Haron and raising his voice over the thunderous crowd. “There is wisdom in a display of wealth and prestige such as this, as there is wisdom in calling a Great Hunt so soon after a horrid affair such as the Aiel War so that we might turn our thoughts to happier things. And while it is no Stone of Tear, dear cousin, I admit that this sight will stay with me for the rest of my days” Torin finished with a smile.