Dragot trembled with anger. So the prophecies have finally come to fruition. Some mortal is going to try to take on a God! He stared at the witch for a minute before turning to leave. She remained bent over for the full duration.
The demon stormed out of the room and began to think. He had known this day was coming for quite some time. Even he could not deny prophecy that was etched in the stars, but knew it was not absolute and could be rewritten if the elements were correct. Now that it was here, he was going to have to deal with a very real threat. He felt foolish for a moment. His only real purpose had been to wait for this very moment, and now that it was here, he had been caught off guard.
He had spies all over Tarmerria, and now that the man-child was of age, he could be detected. The manhunt needed to start immediately. His eyes and ears, human or otherwise, needed to be updated. I want him alive! He then smiled and composed himself once more. No mortal will ever pose a threat to me. Not even the Gate Keeper!
Chapter 4
The whole town was bustling with energy ahead of the upcoming celebration. The streets were alive with colorful streamers hung from the trees that were planted on the sides of the roads, as well as attached to all the street lanterns. Wagons parked up and down the sides of the streets were sprinkled with colorful sparkles and glitter.
Almost all the shops would be closed today, but their doors would be covered with still more vibrant decorations. Some porches held scarecrows sitting in rocking chairs wearing hats and smoking pipes, while others had baskets of fruit that anyone was allowed to enjoy. Others hung origami birds attached to subtle, thin wire so they would appear animated while twisting in circles with the slight spring breeze.
It was midday. Everyone was still setting up their stands and carts to be filled with fruit pies, chicken kabobs, kettles full of baked beans and other sorts of wonderful things. There would be a stick fighting tournament later in the day, as well as choreographed sword fighting that would resemble a dance. Others would wear costumes and parade around the streets, handing candy to the children. A common sight year-round, but especially today, were black banners graced with an orange sunset hung about the town. This was the flag of Bryer and the symbol used to represent the town both during business and celebration. But tonight’s celebration was to be the envy of all.
Around this time every year Bryer celebrated “Sanctas,” or “The Harvest.” In its early days, Sanctas was a way to celebrate and be hopeful that the bounty of crops that year would be plentiful. It was a long-standing tradition, a custom only done by Bryer, which had been practiced for many, many years. But in reality, the long-standing tradition these days was simply a celebration of life. With all the unrest and hard times to be found in Tarmerria, Bryer considered itself to be quite lucky, all things considered.
Similar to Denark, Bryer’s trade business was vital to surrounding communities, so they were in little danger of being attacked anytime soon. In fact, of all the trade goods Denark provided, grain and general food goods were the only items imported and then resold—after a reasonable markup, of course. These items were imported from Bryer, which typically had a great harvest year after year, given the favorable climate and rich, black soil.
The money they earned was plenty to sustain the smallish town, and Lord Hubert Pike was more than fair when it came to taxation as well as the general business of running the town and its people. What he had discovered in his many years of service was that balance was always the key. Even when the crops yielded far more than was expected that year, the surplus was divided equally in all phases. Whatever was planned to go to storage was increased by the unplanned surplus amount, as well as the distribution to the town folk, and finally what was headed to Denark.
Taxes were rarely ever increased because he stuck with the yearly budget, never getting out of control when it came to spending on necessities for the well-being of the town. If the delicate balance of business with Denark ever went south, there would be enough coin left to turn the local economy in another direction if need be, even if that took a few years.
In return for Lord Pike’s forward thinking, the folk of Bryer were some of the happiest in all of Tarmerria. Of course, his personal touch would not work in a big city, given the complexities of taxing local folk versus businesses versus different political factions and such. But on a small scale, Pike’s business sense worked very well. He and the townsfolk were quite happy with the way things were, and hoped it would continue for many years.