The district gates groaned open at her approach, ten-foot metal doors swinging wide on heavy hinges powered by paired Luminary shards attuned perfectly to one another.
The Council District's thick stone walls loomed high as Lysara strode through.
Warm light washed over her the instant she crossed the threshold, carrying a fresh, almost cloying scent of polished stone, blooming flowers, and faint incense that tickled her senses. The blue mist that had bogged the lower districts thinned away to nothing here.
"Captain!"
The stationed guards snapped upright, striking fists to their chests and offering slight bows of respect. Lysara returned the salute with a curt nod, her voice steady.
"Keep it steady, lads."
The Council District rose above the central streets, set furthest from the crowded commons below. Within these walls lay a more prestigious quarter, built to impress and to keep the rest of Brisden at a distance.
Gardens of manicured grass and carefully chosen flowers dotted the lanes in neat patterns, while tall trees lined the main road, trained to guide every gaze toward the imposing castle ahead.
Perfume mingled with the warm aroma of fresh pastries drifting from private bakeries, sweetening the air in a way that always felt too perfect. The luxury quarter thrived with private halls like The House of Delight, The Sanctum and The Chamberhall, where the wealthy dined, laughed, and sinned behind closed doors.
It stood in heavy contrast to the rough, honest conditions of the Commons District, where people lived without such luxury.
By rank alone, Lysara should have lived here among the elite. Yet she had refused every offer. The place reeked of borrowed authority and hollow vanity, councillors playing at kings while the real work happened elsewhere. She preferred the bustle of the Central District—loud, imperfect, alive with genuine people and real purpose.
The streets already hummed with the chaos of morning rush hour. Young apprentices hurried past with tall stacks of parchment and heavy tomes clutched to their chests, their footsteps quick and purposeful. The lifeblood of bureaucracy flowed all around her, clerks and scribes darting between offices with determined expressions.
Every street carried a dense, almost tangible hum of Luminary essence. Shards lined the paving stones and sat embedded in walls, casting clean, unwavering light that would keep the district bright even deep into the night. Side streets slipped past in flashes as people scrambled toward their destinations, voices rising and falling in clipped, important tones.
A figure hidden in one narrow alley caught her eye — silver hair gleaming beneath a hooded cape, armour reflecting the light of the morning sun. Eyes of blue-silver met hers across the distance.
The stranger tipped their hood a fraction in silent greeting.
Lysara answered with the slightest shake of her head.
Not now.
After passing through the castle's outer walls, Lysara moved through its surrounding gardens that held trimmed hedges and sparkling fountains, then she moved into the inner keep. She climbed the wide stone stairs inside, boots ringing on each step, until she reached the first floor.
A long corridor lined with solemn statues and painted panels of town history stretched ahead, a path she had walked many times before.
Metal on stone echoed sharply through the corridor as she approached the council chamber doors.
"Mayor Crowle."
A man's voice carried clearly from inside.
"With all due respect—given the recent events plaguing our town, our men are stretched thin. Guild cohorts can't be relied upon; they're hired blades at best. We should appeal directly to our Bannerlord, Lord Alric, for reinforcement."
A chair creaked as someone shifted their weight.
"Councillor Auston, I am well aware of what has been occurring around my town," came the Mayor's measured reply. "I have good connections with Lord Alric, but those cannot be strained lightly. We cannot show weakness by running to him at the first sign of trouble."
"Mayor Crowle, we—"
The double doors flew open with a heavy metallic clang. Boots struck the floor in steady rhythm.
Guards stationed within the hall saluted their true superior the moment Lysara stepped inside.
As soon as she had done, her Aura answered the tension in the room.
A shimmering haze of superheated air rolled outward in rippling waves—dry, blistering heat fused with cutting wind currents that warped the light like a desert mirage. Banners fluttered sharply though no wind stirred. Candles flared brighter, then bowed, wax dripping faster. The seven councillors flinched as the dry heat pressed against their skin, forcing beads of sweat to the surface in seconds.
All conversation died instantly.
The council table stretched long and immaculate, its surface hand-carved with patient skill. Three ornate chairs lined each side, with two more at either end. Rounded windows caught the morning light on essence-stained glass, scattering faint rainbows across the polished marble floor.
The marble gleamed throughout the chamber under the soft, constant hum of embedded Luminary shards, their light clean and even. Tall candles made from condensed Luminary blossoms filled the air with a sweet, almost intoxicating floral scent that clung to every breath.
Lysara stopped her march beside the Mayor's seat.
"Mayor Crowle."
She struck her fist to her chest in crisp salute, followed by a slight, respectful bow. Crowle gave a short nod of acknowledgement.
The chair gave a soft rustle as she sat, head high, posture firm, one leg crossed neatly over the other—a woman's strength wrapped in quiet, unshakeable confidence. Everyone in the room felt it settle over them.
Her gaze flicked first to the Mayor, then across to Councillor Auston seated opposite her left.
"Councillor Auston—tell me, are you doubting your town's own guard… or me?"
"N-No! I was merely explaining the situation, Captain," he answered quickly, voice cracking as if he had not expected her to arrive so soon. "As Councillor of trade, it is my utmost responsibility to ensure it flows to and from Brisden. It is the town's lifeline."
Hesitant, he glanced around the table before looking back at Lysara, almost seeking permission to continue.
"These incidents have caused complications and rumours to spread. I fear merchants will soon avoid our routes entirely, causing significant loss in trade income."
He opened his palm toward the documents stacked before him.
"Twenty percent within the year. Sixty the next if this continues unchecked."
His hands clasped together tightly, faint sweat glistening on his brow. He glanced toward the other councillors, who were burdened by issues in their own areas—offered slight, reluctant nods of agreement.
A cough cut through the heavy silence. The man seated beside the woman to Lysara's left cleared his throat, drawing attention.
"Councillor Jofferon?" Lysara tilted her head slightly, the movement minimal.
"Captain Lysara, Councillor Auston's worries carry weight. It has been only a short while, but the crops on the town's outskirts have already suffered."
Jofferon slid several sheets of parchment from a thick tome.
"My agriculturists and their apprentices confirmed it with the farmhands—the creeping blue mist is the only new variable that fits this season's poor growth."
Glances rippled around the table. Lysara turned her attention back to Crowle.
"I am neither a Councillor of Trade nor a Cropmaster. I protect Brisden's people and its borders. Mayor, I have my report ready, if you wish to hear it."
Crowle met her eyes and gave a single nod.
"Tree Grave is stirring again. The essence-corrupted beast, Gaunturala, has grown active—emboldened even, expanding its territory. My duty officers reported this; their words carry weight."
A visible chill ran through the councillors at the mention of the mythical Gaunturala. Lysara pressed on without pause.
"Yes. It seems the Blue Mist Forest has been leaking from the south, travelling up to the town's outskirts. Some of it has drawn close to the walls, testing them. Guards witnessed it shift sporadically, as though moving with a will of its own. But this is not due to any failing on our part. That is simply nature reclaiming what is hers."
Murmurs rose briefly, councillors questioning whether the mist might be something more than natural.
"The fangs of the Bog Marshes have also crept up from the south, following the river to the east of town. Marsh Drakes have not caused trouble yet, but they may."
She looked across the councillors, then directly at the Mayor.
"From this point on, the Guild will receive new contracts under council authority—specifically recruiting cohorts or individual Freeblades with strong wind affinity, or fire if we grow desperate—to help contain the blue mist. The town's outskirts patrol will monitor areas close to the eastern river for any dangerous creatures bold enough to enter our territory."
Shoulders around the table dropped slightly, the shared weight of responsibility easing for a moment beneath their captain's steady presence.
She released a measured sigh.
"We should send word to Heliandor, the Radiant City. Dawn's capital must be informed. With the right words, they will dispatch two or three of the Twelve Radiant Knights of the Round Table—though never their Knights of Dawn."
Crowle frowned deeply at the mention of Heliandor, especially the Radiant Knights.
"This solves our immediate threats while bypassing any trouble with our Bannerlord."
Soft sighs of relief spread through the chamber—all except Crowle, who remained visibly tense. Only when his thoughts seemed exhausted did he finally let out a long sigh of his own.
"I acknowledge your report and accept your plan, Lysara. It irritates me to trouble the capital, but we are left with few choices."
Crowle turned and nodded toward the man seated opposite Lysara—his Master of Messages.
"Mayor, I will commission the Guild to send the message via Luminary transfer. The Guild in the capital shall pass it onward for us."
With nods of agreement all around, Crowle turned back to Lysara.
"Now… tell me about these so-called demons."
"About that…"
At the mere mention of the word, the chamber's brief relief vanished.
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——
"Ridiculous!" Crowle's voice echoed through the chamber, sharp with disbelief.
"Demons, in such a small, quiet corner of the Lands of Dawn? Utter nonsense."
He scoffed openly at the absurd rumours.
"B-but Mayor… all these incidents—and the herb girl's testimony—" Councillor Auston began, only to be cut off immediately.
"Irrelevant. Alara, the girl you mention—we have already reached our conclusion. She was most likely delirious. The sudden fright must have overwhelmed her and caused her to see what she wanted to see."
Crowle's fists clenched on the table, leather creaking under the strain.
"A hermit! A scoundrel! Even a Dominion Scout! There is no demon, but there is someone skulking about in my lands!"
All councillors fell silent.
"Lysara."
The Mayor turned his gaze fully on her. She returned it with a calm sidelong look.
His tone dropped, low and commanding. He leaned forward.
"You have three days, Captain. Find the culprit. End this nonsense."
"Understood."
She rose from her chair, the soft creak of wood and stone marking her departure from the meeting.
"Mayor."
She offered the usual crisp salute and turned to leave exactly as she had entered—steady, unhurried, professional.
Crowle stared after her, annoyance simmering from some deeper, unseen grievance.
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——
"Selene~!"
"Selene!"
"Do it again!"
The town orphanage buzzed with lively energy, filled with bright giggles and the patter of small feet. A woman knelt on the worn wooden floor, surrounded by a cluster of eager children.
"Resonant Note."
A beautiful, clear note rose from her throat, Vitalis reinforcing and gently curling the Essence as it left her. The sound shaped into a calming, tingling hum that rolled low then high, soft as warmth threading through morning mist. Every breath carried soothing heat into the chilly room, the tone more like a steady heartbeat than any simple melody.
The children bounced and giggled as the hum vibrated softly in their ears and through their small bodies, finally settling them into gentle calm and leaving only comfortable warmth behind.
The few small Luminary lanterns hanging along the walls reacted faintly, their glass trembling with a weak shimmer as the warm light inside brightened, saturated by her pure tone.
Giggles echoed down the halls.
"Hehe~ Selene again!" one little girl bounced on her toes, her ponytail swinging like an excited puppy's tail.
"It tickles!"
The other children crowded closer, surrounding her with joyful demands.
"A-ah, children—you'll give me a Vitalis burn at this rate," she laughed softly, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
"I'm sorry, Selene, with Mother Tessa gone you have to watch these little demons," an older girl said as she stepped into the room, guilt plain on her face.
"It's fine, Sai. Truly. I'm happy to help wherever I can."
The laughter still hung warm in the air when the front doors thundered open.
Frantic footsteps erupted through the entrance. Selene's hand instinctively reached for her Gear Shard—then froze as Mother Tessa stormed around the corner, breathing hard.
Her eyes locked on Selene, wide and stricken, fear etched deep into every line of her face.
"…children." Mother Tessa forced the hard truth past her tight throat.
"Mother Tessa, what happened—"
"The children… they've disappeared!"
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——
Resonant Note
Tier 1—School of Resonance
Description:
A melodic hum channelled through Vitalis to calm and stabilise surrounding Essence. The sound carries warmth that soothes living beings, often used to settle distress or collective fear.
Essence Principle:
Harmony begets balance. When a caster's Vitalis vibrates in rhythm with ambient Essence, the flow aligns, diffusing agitation and restoring equilibrium.
Practitioner's Note:
Resonance mirrors the heart that wields it. A wavering spirit yields a fractured tone; clarity of intent carries peace farther than volume ever will.
Maxim:
"One's voice carries not only power, but joy."