Possession | | ONC 2024

Prologue

The white vapor of silkworm tea glazed the eyes of many who stumbled through Lamperia. Willing victims breathed deep, exhaling in chants and laughs, dancing to grandiloquent lutes and flutes which continued on repeat, over and over. Yet no one complained. Not a person thought or stopped. There was no time to waste. Every second, every minute, hour, day was spent like so, especially now that only a week remained of uninterrupted bliss. Not a person in the city sat or slept. Exploding lights lit up the dark skies with large booms and bangs. Bright-colored decorations hung from balconies and equally dressed-up necks. Red and black wooden barrels of exotic spirits lined the town like a winding wall stacked high, though many had now been taken down and opened- the liquid drowning every open mouth, as well as the road it sat on. Its sticky ichor coating the stone-paved pathway, making each step a bit more resistant.

It was to be expected. Hundreds of bodies filled the streets as most taverns had remained filled many days since. One knew better than to leave their seat at a table, for the moment they did, it was snatched up. The Saltbrick Tavern, for example, had every stool, chair, and bucket filled with customers. No standing room existed, and the parts that did were avoided due to passed-out guests and incidental piles of feces that didn't make it into the upstairs hole. Alas, if it bothered the customers, there was not one to show it. The tavern continued normally, filling each glass, emptying old ones, and repeating- and it would do so until the last person left.

A sudden splash of cold, sour ale opened King Civon's eyes. His mind slammed against the walls of his head as he realized that that eleventh tankard of taffy ale his knight warned him against had been one too many. He moaned and stood up. The smell of old sweat from unbathed bodies and an odd putrid odor now coming from the direction of his boot caused the room to spin.

He felt the grip of Sir Rowland, his knight in arms, steady him.

"I'm fine. I just need air." Civon pushed through the undisturbed crowd until the smoky morning air greeted him. If not for the mixed smell of puffed silkworm and lacegrass, the piscine sea breeze would have brought him to his knees, and he would have added to the piles of yellow and orange vomit that stained the sticky, stoned path. The look of its filth alone could twist a sober man's stomach, though there were none of those here. Not now. The Emperor's capital had not seen a moment of rest since the last full moon. For it was the celebration of Emperor Azrykis's 50th birthday. The people of Lamperia had waited for nothing else- year long. And now that it was here, the capital wasted no expense in its month-long festival, which King Civon found a bit tiring.

Though all the Kings and Queens of Vazrandin were invited, very few stayed past the first day's feast. The tables had been filled with meats, cheeses, breads, dried fruits, and sweets. A poor man's dream and, on that day- a reality. As it was known, all were welcome to the Emperor's table on the day of his birth.

Among the Kings and Queens to attend, there were three: King Regent of West Beck, King Grashit of Redbrook, and King Civon of Deep Rock.

At the end of the hall, slightly below where the Emperor sat, was a long golden-lace-dressed table set for five, but on that night, two of the chairs remained empty, leaving tension between the Kings present as the Emperor greeted them with a half-soured look. Though any were welcome, the leaders of the five kingdoms were expected at the feast. "I wish to celebrate and share in the wealth of- the land, my people, and friends." Emperor Azrykis always ended the toast with a raised chalice and a slight nod of approval to the King's table. But this year, the glass had not tipped, nor had there been a nod. His gaze had remained linear to the people, without even a glance down. It was shameful.

King Regent, who mumbled and cursed with every cup of mulberry wine, left posthaste following the end of the feast with means of visiting his neighboring brother Kingdom of Bastion, where King LanBurn ruled. In King Regent's words, "I plan to give him a piece of my mind," and to that, King Civon responded, "Please give him my regards."