For those who roamed the plains and hills, men and beasts alike, the dawn would come in the early hours of the day, if one were to judge by those circular trinkets that were said to tell time accurately. But the world was different in its parts, so were the times, the stars, the land and the people. The rise of the golden disk symbolised the beginning for some, yet for others - it was long past their dreamland wanders.

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A canvas painted in the soft hues of pink and orange on a light blue background, over which was cast a silver veil, resembling the icy surface of a lake in midwinter. Such was the welkin above the mountains that belittled the mortals that dwelled within them, and with their height and peaks stood tall, like the pines that grew in their highlands, and attempted to pierce the sky. A few stars shone dimly far in the west, where the darker tones still lingered, for the sun had not yet risen to throw them in its shadow by bringing its light upon the earth. It was the midpoint between night and day, when the bridge between the two sides appeared and magic was rumored to fall from the sky into the dew that shined like gems from the far seas and blessed the children that would one day become the pillars of their world. Alas, it was a mere folk tale and there was not a moment to spare for such idle talks when the first cocks crow. Time and tide wait for no man.

Up and about were they, even before lady night clapped her hands and took her leave, the people of Ferros. Between their legs would crawl the mist whilst they marched through the stone paved streets, as if it were not time of peace but of war, each on their daily routine.
Wives washed and swept their porches, opened the windows and smacked their clothes clean, their once gleaming bright hair now dulled and replaced by the strong hands of a housekeeper. Stews bubbled in the cauldrons, which were snuggled nicely above the flames, like a curled up cat beside the fireplace. The mistresses hustled and bustled around them, ofttimes with a curious child or two or three poking their nose to see if it was done and then getting a red ear or neck. Many youngsters, however, were out even before their meal was served. Waving their wooden sticks in the air or clashing them against each other, the lads and lassies roared like little bear cubs playfighting as they ran through the alleys and sounded the city with their joyous laughter. The adults payed them no mind, unless something got broken, and hurried on their own way. 

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The bakeries were already letting out large fumes from their chimneys. Pastries had to be ready before everything else, for man could live without every luxury except the bread. Black or white, spicy or plain, it would not take long for the warm pieces to make their way into someone’s bag or stomach, because even in spring the air was chilly and stung the flesh and lungs. Bless the One God, the snow had retreated shortly before the equinox and all was right for the birth of new life from the mother earth, but the giants that towered above remained capped with dense white hats as they had throughout the years. Yet it was nothing to celebrate for the farmers, who shivered not from the cold but from the fear of hoarfrost. Their lives were dependant on the vegetation they grew and the few livestock they owned, unlike the merchants, who called all year around in the markets, as if they were chanting priests out to send the gods’ words. Even that day their clear beckonings could be heard from far and wide, urging the passers by to stop by their stalls and bare witness to the goods they had brought from the foreign countries beyond the Lowlands. Several of the passes had opened with the coming of warmer winds and melting of the icy blockades, thus the witty and clever had made haste to rush down and gather all they could with bargaining, only to bring it back up and sell it at a high price. Such was the way of the ones, who chased after good coin. There was not much to be found on the other side of the border, since the trees had not bore their fruit, nor had the sheep been sheared and the wool processed, but the first strawberries had been born and brought from the south, so were new thinner clothing and jewelry. Despite not having a wide variety to offer, the merchants boasted with the pride of a crow mother over her newly hatched chick and it was not rare for them to be given a harsh remark or a scolding by a soldier or even by a woman from the townsfolk, who happened to be out in the market buying whatnot for daily needs.

In a society where both genders wore steel and carried the sword, men and women held the same amount of authority and rights. Unlike the other kingdoms, this mountain country’s women were bred with the spirit of victory and conquest. To guard their families and homes, to stand up and answer the call for their Queen. If men had to stand on the front lines, they would be the back and flanks, observing and waiting patiently as the skillful lionesses they were, whilst the males roared and clashed directly. Many had not succumbed to the role of a simple obedient wife or daughter and continued polishing their skills, albeit the unsheathing of their claws only occurred against mischievous children, pushy salesmen and perhaps even a meek husband in those days of concord and harmony.

The simple life went onwards on the current of the everflowing river, not a wave hitting the banks on its way. Bickering, chores, games and work, the commoners toiled relentlessly in their own sweat between the giggling and cries of youngsters and their own laughter and curses. An everyday life of a nation, whose fists were iron, but heart not without warmth. It was the same in both villages and towns nestled high and low in the rocky titans. Regardless of the distance, the people were of one blood, the icy blood of survivors, the red and blue of which combined and created solid ties, as eternal as the snow-capped motionless dragons in which they were birthed, lived and died. This merged them together and formed one being, one warrior spirit, ready to stand their ground for what they deem right. It was no different in the capital, in the crown’s city within the dragon’s nest, accordingly dubbed Snowheart.

Whilst being the center of the kingdom, the bright jewel within the dark coves, the morning came without delay for the the core and its innumerable citizens. No one leaned against the status of the capital, not a soul dared to waste their time in senseless bragging about its greatness, for their mentality demanded progress, movement and success. Why flatter yourself with your creation, when you could make it better? That was the subconscious reminder each of them received and thus strived to achieve something better in each and every day. Blacksmiths would bang with their hammers, carpenters would chunk away wood and the markets would ring with daily production all in the outer walls. In the mid-walls tailors would measure, scholars would teach, students would study, soldiers would train. And within the innermost walls politicians would argue, reports would be read, decisions - made and the treasury - managed. A well-structured organizations with defined lines and strict order. Such was the mannerism of Ferros, a country where the seed of civil uprising could never be sown. 

[center][b]“Uh, this is so boring.”[/b][/center]

A couple of ravens flew off into the morning, letting out loud caws to welcome the guardian of light, which had lifted itself above the peaks and sent down glimmering rays of sunshine. The giant gears of the arrows were nearing 7 o'clock, namely those of the Raven clock tower, named such because of the avians which favored it as a resting and sometimes even nesting area. It was built directly by the innermost wall, beside it being one of the few gates that lead into the cradle of the city. Standing tall, made of white stone that shimmered to the sunny touch, its highest level was an open terrace with three pillars on every side to keep the black roof atop it. There was nothing to be seen there, a wide and empty space, but from there could the seen the entirety of it all. The boulevards, the forest of rooftops, the smoking chimneys, the bridges and the little people, who crawled about like ants on an anthill, each on its own way, yet somehow moving in synch with the others.
This wonderful view, which resembled the mechanism below, was being observed by a young man, whose bright blue eyes were as sharp as the icy spears that formed on the eaves of houses in winter. Leaning forwards against the parapet, on which he had laid and folded his arms to rest his head, he was dressed in a black shirt, unbuttoned twice on the upper end, over which he had draped on a dark blue coat that reached to a point a bit below his knees and on the same level his black pants went inside his boots. On the youngster’s face was an expression of apathy and utter boredom. The orderly fashion of the Ferronians was unbearably monotone and uninteresting to him, who loved unpredictability and chaos, which offered the most astounding and unexpected results. Yet there was nothing of the like in this city, the capital of the iron people, who stood firmly on the ground. His spiritual situation was so dire that he even lacked enthusiasm to blow something up. It was odd for such an individual to be loitering around in a place that obviously could not offer much, but if one were to consider the strictness of the lower levels, it was no wonder the boy had escaped to the terrace. He knew something would come up eventually, but until then he was considering at least breaking some windows, but even that seemed like a waste of effort. 

Thankfully, the troubled soul did not have to wait long, for he spotted a group of four soldiers approaching the gate. This piqued his interest instantly, since the change of shifts was not due in a few hours. Keeping himself in the same position, he untucked one hand and twirled his fingers in a strange manner in the air. This was, in truth, a magic spell, a simple one which created a tube-like air current around the guards by the gate and used the small drops of water of the moisture in the air to carry the vibrations of their voices, all of which were unnoticeable for those simple folk. Thus a sound-carrier was created and the young man could listen in precisely to what would be said. 

[b]“The Valarian ambassador has passed Schuyler post.”[/b] the lead of the arrivals spoke. [b]“Tell lord Finbar his guest will be arriving on schedule.”[/b]
[b]“Understood.”[/b] one of the guards said and passed the gates.
[b]“Schuyler post, huh. All they have to do is get to Azarel post and they’re straight on their way here.”[/b] another soldier by the gate said.
[b]“Unless their independent asses get whipped by the thieves.”[/b] a younger one from the other group laughed. This caused most of them to smile at the joke, but the greenhorn was given a quick hit on the neck by his superior.
[b]“Watch you mouth! Speaking such words in front of the Queen’s gates is unforgivable.”[/b] he told him.

[i]‘Like she cares.’[/i] the magician atop the clock tower thought. [i]‘This is sooo not what I had in mind. Boring~ The moment someone tries to have some fun, they smack him. Sheesh. What a bunch of rocks… Hmm.’[/i] The mage dismissed his spell and took a moment to think. [i]‘How did that song go again?’[/i] He then used his pointer finger and waved it in the air like a conductor of an orchestra.

[center][b]“~Tom he was a piper’s son~”[/b][/center]

[b]“How has the scene been today? Is any route lacking in patrol?”[/b] the senior asked.
[b]“Not today. Although I must say-”[/b] the guard at the gate answered and the two conversed on.
In the mean time, that same young soldier took a few steps away to stand at the back of the group. He put his hand in front of his mouth, but rather than the expected quiet one, he let out a loud soundful belch. It was enough to halt the two older men from speaking and startle a couple of pedestrians, some of which stopped to look at the direction of the unmannerly exhale. The lad was still in the exact same position, but this time he was gripping his mouth and had his eyes wide open. It was no less a surprise to him than it was to everyone else. The superior and leader of the group quickly reddened in appearance and his eyes became those of a best.
[b]“Why you… Shameless scoundrel!”[/b] he roared and leapt towards the “criminal”.
[b]“I’m sorry!”[/b]

[center][b]“~He learnt to play when he was young~”[/b][/center]

[b]“I really don’t know what-”[/b] the soldier spoke frantically as he dodged the attack. [b]“came over me?”[/b]
The more the senior attempted to deliver the justly punishment, the more the junior avoided it. Ducking and turning left and right, he danced across the entire square as the bigger older man tried to hit him. It was as if a magical force was aiding him and, while he firstly wanted to swallow the bitterness of it, his natural instincts got into rhythm and got the better of him. But he could be sympathised with, for the general was certainly in one of his bloodthirsty moods and it seemed that he could rip the poor boy right open, if he got a hold of him.
[b]“Dishonorable, disrespectful brat! Avoiding punishment will only increase the beating I’ll give you!”[/b]

[center][b]“~And all the tune that he could play~”[/b][/center] 

[b]“This sure is fancy for a cargo transport, Lord Eadberht.”[/b] a young woman said with a snicker as she held the reins of the two horses, which lead forward a large carriage decorated with silver and purple veils and golden lining. 
[b]“Fancy? Do not describe something of mine with such simplicity, woman. I have brought my most treasured of cups and silverware for the ambassador’s dinner. I have dug in my inns and underground chambers to find the oldest of wines and perfectly cultivated seasoning, so that my liege, Lord Finbar, maybe be pleased and so that I can smile at the Valarian’s swine face full of delight as he drinks my wine and eats from my dishes. My items are always of high class, thus do not-”[/b]
[b]“Yah, yah, I got it.”[/b] the driver cut his rant off. [b]“Pipe down and tell me where to go.”[/b]
[b]“Hmph, Raven gate.”[/b] he answered with displease.
[b]“The one by the clock tower? Good. It’s right around the corner.”[/b]

Yet just when the carriage entered the square, the two soldiers were in the heat of their waltz. Many of the passers by had taken refuge to the sides by the buildings and watched it unfold. It was like two dragonflies fighting in the air. The horses were instantly spooked and neighed restlessly. The woman pulled the reins back, but the lord urged her on:
[b]“You, go forward! I have no time to waste here. Hurry it up or I’ll deduct your pay.”[/b]
[b]“...As you say, m’lord.”[/b]
She slapped the reins and shouted several times. The two animals stomped their feet, moved several steps forward, but then went back as the men neared. The superior soldier was now roaring like a lion and the youngster was at the brink of tripping over himself. This was quite the frightening sight for the horses. Then the wind suddenly howled by them and some sort of unpleasant moist feeling started bothering the insides of their ears. It was the final straw. Both of the horses went out of control and ran frantically in any direction they saw fit. Ahead, turn, in a circle, they desperately tried to get away from the invisible monster that was after them. The two passengers were barely holding on to their seats, the woman gripping the reins and the lord - holding the wood under him. This was enough to make the men stop, but the senior saw his chance and tried to land a sneak attack. While not even looking the youngster ducked, compelled to do so by the wind, a force he could not understand. The square became utterly chaotic. People were shouting and screaming. Some were trying to get the horses to calm down, whilst others were simply escaping. A complete mess so early in the morning.

[center][b]“~Was over the hills and far away~”[/b][/center]

The horses finally broke free from their restraints after bumping many times against each other. They ran lose and sent the carriage sideways and it crashed into a house. Fortunately, there were no casualties or major injuries, except Lord Eadberth’s silverware and goods, which perished without a sound. 
The young soldier had stopped running away from his superior and risked his life to save a person, who almost got run over by the horses. The sight enlightened the older warrior on the reality of the situation and his rage ceased. He directed his energy to helping the remaining onlookers and divert the horses’ attention. In the end, he still smacked the youngster on the head, but it wasn’t a full-on beating. 
The square in front of Raven tower would smell of wine and seasoning for awhile.

[b]“Darn it, I forgot how it continued.”[/b] the magician said to himself on the terrace. He had lost concentration on his spells while trying to remember the tune. [b]“Over the hills… and a good day off? Nah. A ground lay off? No. A great… A great wa-”[/b]

[center][b]“Ryan Rakesh Blaumond!”[/b]
a loud voice shouted from beyond the inner walls.[/center]

[b]“For the last time, IT’S SKYE!”[/b] the mage answered back in the same manner, turned towards the way the voice came from.

Beyond the innermost walls the atmosphere was quite different. Unlike the hive of busy bees that buzzed in all directions in the other parts of the city, Snowheart’s “heart” was a serene island, where people walked in a slower pace with their heads held high and pride shining from every fiber of their being. The one who dared to disturb the tranquility that thrived at this early hour was Brandon Blaumond, the first son of the Archmage of Ferros. As a guardian of age twenty seven, one would think it was discourteous for a man of his years to yell in the morning, when some were still asleep, yet this action was not without reason. 
Albeit lacking in magical abilities, he took on from his father the mountain-like size of his body and only his voice alone could travel far enough to reach his adopted brother, Skye, and intimidate him enough to bring him back. Brandon and Ryan were a clear example of the saying “wine does not become blood”. One was a guardian, the other - a magi; the first was massive, the second - slim; the prior was hardened like stone, the latter - as flexible as water. They were opposites in all accounts, both outwards and inwards, and even their eyes, blue in each, had a different hue to them. Brandon’s possessed a green tone, which expressed how down to earth he was, whilst Skye’s were icy and sharp, just the eyes for a trickster. But rather than find harmony together, like the sun and the moon, they despised each other and made sure not to come in contact. However, when their father came into the picture, both were forced to make amends for the time being. 

[b]“What do you want, Brutedon?”[/b] Skye asked as he finally flew over to where the soldier was. Using air magic to fly wherever he wished was his favorite ability, not to mention it irritated his brother, who thought of it as a lazy and unnecessary method of transportation. [b]“You ready to apologize to yours truly?”[/b] he asked as he lay carelessly in midair. 
[b]“As if. I wouldn’t apologize to you in a million years.”[/b] Brandon told him harshly. [b]“The reason why-”[/b]
[b]“You’re going bald.”[/b] Skye cut him off.
[b]“What?!”[/b]
[b]“Yep. I can see it from up here. Might as well call you Baldon from now on.”[/b] the mage laughed.
[b]“Why you! The only reason I’m going bald is because of you!”[/b]
[b]“Or cuz you can’t get a woman.”[/b] he flung a comment that hit home. [b]“A bald hard stone~ Left all alone~ Hey, it rhymes!”[/b]
The guardian put his hand on his sword and was about to unsheath it when one of the servants accompanying Brandon spoke with a meek voice:
[b]“L-Lord Skye, please, put something else on and button up your coat. You’ll-”[/b]
[b]“Shut up!”[/b] both brothers struck at the same time.
Thankfully, this short distraction was enough to get Brandon back to his senses. He broke his stance and spoke:
[b]“The Archmage is calling you in the meeting room.”[/b] Turning around, he continued as he left. [b]“Better hurry up or you’ll miss whatever it is they have to say.”[/b]
[b]“Yah, yah, too bad you missed your ship long ago.”[/b] Skye smirked and flew away before his sibling had the chance to make a comeback.

Flying over to the building where his destination was, the young man took a moment to look himself up in one of the windows. His hair was a bit messy and his overall appearance was by no standards acceptable, except by his. He was clean and fresh and only fixed his coat up a bit, dusting it off here and there, before entering through the said window. The rest of the distance he walked, his boots making a tapping sound every time they hit solid stone. 

[b]“Alright, I’m here. Lets get down to business.”[/b] he said as he opened the double door with a devilish grin, without so much as a knock or “good morning”, and went over to the table, where innumerable books and papers were spread out like a dinner table for those hungry for knowledge.

With a nod to commence from Archmage Blaumond, Lateus pulled a small wooden chest from under his seat and placed it in his lap. He turned his body to Skye and began his explanation regarding a spell the team had created, yet could not stabilise. The speech was interjected and finished by the High Magician, who pointed out that their court required a specific foreign magician to complete the spell.

[b]"Weeks ago we discovered such a mage, and some of my men were dispatched to bring him in for study.”[/b] Oswald told him. [b]“However, only one of my men returned empty handed, and the mage escaped across the Valarian border. They were loyal and strong men, and with their deaths a problem arose. I need someone strong enough to handle themselves against whatever might be thrown at them, but also someone I can trust. I think you're ready Skye... besides, if you are to succeed me as Archmage, this is a fine opportunity to test yourself."[/b]

Subtly, Lateus winced at the last remark. The position of Archmage was to be given to the most worthy mage of the nation, and it was no secret that Blaumond had been grooming his adoptive son for the position, and the Queen herself favored the boy mage. This blatant favoritism, and Blaumonds apparent desire for the position to be passed to his own lineage, caused a great deal unrest among Ferronian mages who thought more highly of themselves, but Lateus kept his silence, instead looking down at the gold and copper coins with a rather empty expression.

[b]“Heh, a coward mage who ran away? Fine, I have no objections.”[/b] Skye agreed without hesitation. [b]“I’ll bring him back alive, though you should know, I can’t guarantee how “alive” he’ll be. But, let me guess, some puppies will come along to drag me down for “protection”, right? Sheesh, what an annoyance.”[/b] he sighed and paused before he continued. [b]“I’m ready to go whenever those metal-heads are ready.”[/b]