Crunch, crunch, crunch… The sound heralded each step up the stairway to the cathedral. Fat white flakes fell all around, piling on the stone stairs cut directly into the mountain. The looming building seemed dark in the quiet snowfall, surrounded all in white. Simon might have thought it abandoned, if not for the winged sentries that stood to either side of the great onyx entryway. "Who goes there?" one called as the small party scaled the landing.

The lead figure paused at the top of the stair, hands lifting to draw back the snow-dusted navy blue hood. "I am Count Simon, of House Montefort, from the Adelunan Empire in Canelux. With me is Lord Thomas of House Rhygar, Ser Olvar of House Tyresus, his squire and mine own son and heir Raphael of House Montefort, and finally the Yeoman Anguy. He motioned toward each of his companions in turn as he announced them in order of rank and title.

One winged sentry looked him over and gave a curt now. The other reach and tugged open one of the large black doors. "Right this way, m'Lord." The guard motioned inside, whispering to another half-angel that stood within. This one wore servant's garb, and stepped up as he entered the foyer. "Welcome, Count Simon, please allow me to take your cloak." With a nod Simon turned and held up his arms, allowing the servant to take the garment off him.

Cloak in hand, the servant bowed and stepped back to the inner door, cracking it to whisper to someone beyond before swinging it open and standing aside with another bow. The nobleman crossed the threshold to stand alongside a handsome young herald, all blue eyes and blond curls falling over a doublet of black trimmed and slashed in white. The herald offered him a bow, then turned to face the floor. "Count Simon, of House Montefort, from the Adelunan Empire: The White Knight!" he cried, and Simon strode onto the floor. I suppose my reputation has proceeded me… he thought, suppressing a frown. The word of his deeds at the tourney had traveled wide it seemed, even so wide as here.

All the nearby eyes turned toward him. Simon was a tall man for a human, just short of six feet, with a presence that made him seem taller than he actually was. His posture was perfectly ramrod-straight, though he walked gracefully and relaxed across the floor. Broad of chest and shoulder, with a strong jaw and hunter's eyes: he looked every inch the seasoned warrior that he was. A man of five and thirty, his close-cropped raven hair was just beginning to show the first signs of grey. He was fair-complexioned, with a straight nose, strong chin and piercing blue eyes accentuated by a small scar over his left brow - a token left to him by the runner-up at the Queen's Tourney. His close-fitting doublet and breeches did little to hide his muscular frame: they were of a military cut, long-sleeved and white as snow with silver buttons and trimmed in navy blue. Upon his doublet's breast was emblazoned the sigil of his noble house: a waning crescent moon opening into a cluster of three seven-pointed stars, all in silver thread upon a field of navy blue. His knee-high boots and belt were of leather bleached white. From one hip hung the Holy Comet, the ancient weapon of his house. The ivory-handled morningstar had a cold iron head etched in holy silver runes. On his other hip he wore an ivory-handled dagger in a white leather sheath, its blade also of cold iron etched with the same silver runes. The gloves he wore were of soft ermine, which also lined the cloth-of-silver half-cape that he wore over one shoulder, clasped with a crescent-moon brooch wrought in silver.

Simon waited a few steps within for the others to join him. Rhygar was announced next. The redheaded lord was shorter and stouter than Simon, red-faced and in a military-cut outfit similar to his own, but colored blue and trimmed in bright yellow. Gold were his brooch and buttons, blue his leather, and the sigil emblazoned on his breath was a cock done in bright yellow. He wore an arming sword on one hip, a fine dagger on the other.

As he waited for the others to be announced and join him, Simon busied himself looking about the cathedral. It was far from what he was expecting - when he'd heard that the event would be held at the half-angel's cathedral he imagined a great marble affair: all in shining white and gold. This was far different… and far darker. The interior of the cathedral was nothing short of spectacular. Over the polished onyx floor rose walls of swirling blue azurite cut with stark black neptunite. Gold and silver engravings depicting mythological events traced their way around the perimeter of the room. Beautiful angels of shining green malachite hung from above, limned in the gentle light of the bewitched labradorite that was set into the dark ceiling - shining like stars in a night sky. The greatest of the angels hung in the center, pouring out neptunite studded with labrodorite stars from a glowing black opal vase. Below her stood a massive moonstone, around which danced the many partygoers.

Simon looked on it all with awe. The celestial majesty of the angels… He was finally startled from his reverie by the arrival of the rest of his companions. The Count looked over them all with a smile. "You all look rather dashing. Ser Olvar, at last you look a proper Knight. Dance, drink, enjoy yourselves… but be aware of your actions and guard your tongues. This is much like Court at Adeluna, but not the stage is truly international. We can make great inroads and impressions here, but we can also make terrible foes if we are not careful. Be careful of the image you display here." The Knight looked pointedly at his former squire. "We do not need to seem in bed with the Sularians anymore than you already are." Speaking of Sularians, I will have to call upon the Goddess once she is revealed. I mustneeds speak to her of Olvar, and her daughter… Simon grimaced inwardly at the thought. Olvar had dishonored the princess, and now he needed to arrange a marriage in order to save both their honors. He had to tread carefully though… deities were notoriously fickle, one wrong word might provoke Angela's wrath, and the wrath of a Goddess was no thing to scoff at.

But first, he had more earthly business to attend. "Now if you will excuse me, I must attend the Archon to pay our respects… and to discuss other matters." Turning on his heel, Simon strode nimbly along the edges of the dance floor toward the head of the hall. That was where the Zets'Ki ruling elite would be located. There he planned to gain audience with the Archon, to broker a political alliance that would leave his son set for life. He could only hope that the Archon would consider his offer.

[Gaea's Dress
Eva's dress]
“Don’t walk like that,” Gaea scoffed towards her younger sister. Eva stopped herself and looked down at Gaea. The blonde had her hands on her hips and a rather stubborn look on her face. “Ladies of the court often walk like this… NOT slouched over.” Gaea demonstrated as they walked towards Olvar and company. “See?”

Eva stopped just short of staring at Raphael before her attention cut right back to her sister. “But… Gaea, how do you remember all of this? You haven’t been in the courts for a very long time. Surely this is something you would have forgotten by now.”

Gaea turned on her heel and looked up at her sister. “I always remember what I hate the most almost vividly and being a lady in the courts is one of the things I hate the most. It’s all prim and proper. You have to wear shoes too.” She scoffed a bit and Eva laughed.

The two sisters were dressed very different. For Gaea is a beautiful form fitting red gown that was off shoulder for the sleeves. It appeared to be made of silk with a lace overlay. Red jewels were decorated around her neck while her blonde hair was pinned into an updo with red camellias pinned in on the back of her head near were the bun of her hair was placed.

Eva’s dress had much the same design for the bodice but the skirts were more puffy and layered. The back scooped down so her wings could be comfortable. It was a deep midnight blue that seemed to compliment her eyes. The fabric was shimmering in the light but only slightly as to catch the eyes if those who looked. Layered sapphires were around her neck and jewels were layered through her long hair as it was partially pulled back. Long curls cascaded down her front and back as she tried to mock Gaea’s movements now.

In her dress Gaea curtsied to the men the best she could and Eva watched her sister. “Okay!” She followed the exact movements Gaea did. “How was that?”

“You’ll… get there.” Gaea chuckled a bit and winked up at Olvar. “So… This wall… Interesting isn’t it?” She had caught them looking at it. Gaea approached it and put her hand to some of the engravings. She was quiet for a moment as she tilted her head. Her ruby earrings fell to one side as she did.

“You know about this?” Eva looked up at it in awe.

“Of course, it’s mandatory for all students of Auzial’s to spend at least a year in the Iria Mage Academy.” Gaea looked back at Eva and the rest of the group.

“But… Gaea… You can’t use magic.” There was a deep frown on Eva’s face but Gaea smiled back at her.

“It’s true. I can’t use a lot of magic or I will die. However, I did spend my year in Iria. I took alchemy classes instead of magic and I learned how to preserve my mana so I didn’t kill myself if I wanted to infuse my apothecary with magic. This wall, however, was part of an assignment to study for Parvpora History. We spent three whole months deciphering it and learning the history about it. From Reverie the great Celestial who became our home Revaliir to Verya and the Voice who gave the gods as we know them today their powers.” Gaea moved her finger from each figure in the wall as she remembered where they were. She pointed at the bottom of the mural where there was ancient text scrolled across. “Remember the sins of the past as not to repeat them in the future. How funny that the language is all but lost.” Gaea crossed her arms. “This mural in the middle tells of Onnen creating the first lifeforms here. The deities. They weren’t as we know them today. They were vicious, angry, and blood thirsty. They killed each other and stole each other’s lands. It’s said they caused a great tragedy and they were punished for it. From the blood of those they killed they created the first mortal races.” She followed a line down to show many figures representing the races.

“When Onnen died and he created his children… They created the gods. Still they weren’t like we know them. When Verya died that was when the Voice killed his gods and recreated them as we know them. The old gods could turn entire continents into desert wastelands… Sularia is one such place. We can only thrive because my mother has worked so hard to reverse the curse on the land. The ancient wellspring of magic is what allows her to be strong enough to break the god’s curse. It terrifies me that there were beings that powerful… Limitless power.” Her eyes connected with Olvar’s for a moment.

“Speaking of which… Olvar,” She pointed to the moons. “Here in Parvpora, it is common for them to worship the sisters. Many people like you are called Moon Children. Living to the call of the moons. Though I suppose I should say not completely like you though.” He would know what she meant. “And Eva… Your father’s bloodline.” Gaea took a stroll down the mural and put her finger to a group of angels. “Ancient and powerful. They were warriors of the Sun. They became guardians to Zets’Ki. Most of them are gone now.”

Eva had a frown form on her face. “What about my father?”

“…I heard that he went searching for you and that he never came back. I’m sorry to have brought up such terrible memories for you.”

The half angel shook her head. “It’s not as unpleasant as yours Gaea. You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stop that. You cannot measure life’s tragedies to another’s. Whether mine is worse or Olvar’s is worse… Or even maybe Raphael’s. All of us have our own struggles. It does not mean that we shouldn’t think about others before we speak.” For a moment, Gaea looked thoughtful at the group before her lips parted. “Chveni ch’ianch’velebi mkholod momavali gzisk’en midian.”

It startled Eva for a moment and she tilted her head. “What does that mean?”

“It is the language of the angels. It means our pasts are but a stepping stone on our road to the future. For me… It means not to fret about the mistakes of the past. To not be afraid to take a breath and make my next move. I live every day knowing that I could die from my mana deficiency. That much is true. However, I’m not going to let that keep me in bed. I’m not going to let it make me sick. I will fight it. I’m not going to let it hold me back or stop me from being what I know I can be… Eva that means you can’t let the past hold you back either. Forge your path… Don’t let fate decide it for you. Same goes for you as well Raphael. Both of you are young enough to get that piece of wisdom. I was seven when I decided my path but it’s never too late to decide yours.”

Gaea’s eyes moved to the wall once more. “The world didn’t stop and neither should we. Parting wisdom from your elder of course.”

“That makes it sound like you are going to die,” Eva pouted a bit and Gaea laughed a bit. If only Eva knew that it had already happened once.