Winfins Fantasystory

Jakob stood on a dais, a smile on his face, as he presented his right arm to the priest in front of him. The trees on the roof shielded them from the sun that shone from the spotless blue sky. Despite the shade, it had gotten warm under the suit, and the heavy, green silk fabric with its golden embroidery pressed down on his shoulders.

The Priest held a golden band around his wrist, and he suppressed the urge to draw his arm away at the sudden, cold touch of the metal. The band snapped together with a clanking sound, then the priest produced a small key and locked it. Jakob looked to the woman standing next to him on the right.

She wore an intricate dress, made from several different fabrics, all dyed in a blue that rivaled the sky, interwoven with threads of copper, worn over tanned skin that made his seemed pale in comparison. Her raven hair had been done up, fixed with needles and a net, both also made of copper. Her eyes were closed in a smile, and she too held her arm towards the priest, though she presented her left. He fixed another band to her wrist, the same way he had done to Jakob’s.

Another man walked up to them, clad in the same robes as the priest, though less decorated. He kneeled, and presented a white string to his superior. Jakob’s gaze wandered from him to the courtyard, to the heavy benches made from polished granite, decorated with gold and jewels – and to the people sitting on them. Two dozen men sat there, in suits that were plain, but undoubtedly made from the most expensive materials they could get a hold of. They sat there and looked at him.

A slight twitch went through his cheek, but he forced himself to continue smiling.

He breathed in.

He breathed out.

The priest took the string, then walked behind them and up the dais. He pushed both ends of it through their wristbands at the same time, then held them towards the crowd, and finally tied them together. “Lady Neryja blessed this day with sunshine,” he exclaimed. The booming voice hurt in Jakob’s ears, but he kept his smile. “This day, it is a sign! A sign that Lady Neryja has blessed this marriage also!”

As he shouted the last words, he raised his hands from their arms. Starting with the knot, the whole string started to turn a vibrant purple, similar to the priest’s own garb. The crowd broke out in applause, an orchestra started to play in the corner of the courtyard, and servants poured out of a door, depositing all kinds of food on several tables. From his point of view, Jakob caught a glimpse of the priest putting a small, empty vial back into the satchel around his waist.

A man, sitting alone on the bench in the first row, stood up. The suit he wore was of the same color as Jakob’s, and his short, dark blonde hair sported a slight green hue. He turned to the guests, cleared his throat, and said, “It is done! I want to thank again our friends, no, our allies from Vasilfáros, for this token of alliance. Many of the folk outside, from peasants that have lost their sight of righteousness to foreign firebrands, have tried to hinder us, to drive a wedge between us, but they have failed! All of them have failed! Today is that day that history will be written, and it will be our history!” He raised a fist to the sky.

Jakob swallowed the urge to gag. He breathed in, he breathed out.

He wouldn’t throw a fireball at the Man. At least not today. While all the focus was on the Man, the priest’s assistant loosened the knot and handed Jakob the string.

The Man – Jakob refused to even think of him as his father – droned on. Jakob breathed in, and he breathed out. Something brushed against his hand. The woman next to him, or rather, his wife, had grabbed his hand, and intertwined her fingers with his. Then she leaned against him. It felt strange. Her skin was smooth, and while he had felt smooth skin before, he couldn’t place what was different this time.

He let go, and they walked through the aisle between the guests. They reached out to him, shook his hands, and congratulated him. All the while, he smiled.

◊◊◊

The wall slid up again behind Jakob. It was silent, but he thought his heartbeat must have been loud enough to alert someone. He listened, but no one came even after a minute or so, so he took a deep breath and began to walk. The tunnel he was in led to a small pond, illuminated by moonlight shining in through a circular hole in the ceiling. Voices could be heard through it as well, talking calmly. Step by step, Jakob walked towards the exit, clutching a wooden shape tied to his belt.

Suddenly, his foot slipped. A small stone or two and a handful of dust rolled into the pond. He stood stock still, listening. Whoever was talking continued unperturbed. A small breath escaped his lips, but he interrupted it immediately. Then he continued towards the exit. A stream split from the pond, vanishing into the darkness of the tunnel, and Jakob followed its way. He didn’t dare to run.

He didn’t know how long he had been in the darkness, whether it was ten minutes or ten hours. When he broke out of the tunnel, he noted that the moon hadn’t shifted much though. He took a moment to look at the sky, at the stars, then he turned to the left and broke into a sprint.

He ran up to a forest, along its edge, until he found a trail of trampled dirt. Taking a quick look back, he followed it inside, up to a cabin standing alone between the trees. It looked almost exactly like it did last time he had seen it, over a year ago.

His heartbeat started to quicken once again as he got closer, and he knocked at the door.

Nothing happened. Was he to silent? Or maybe they were away, or even had completely left? What if someone had already found the tunnel, and were on their way here. This would be the first places to look at.

Just as he lifted his hand again, the door creaked open. Through the slit, an eye could be seen, embedded in a head covered by large scales that looked grey in the moonlight. The eye opened wide as it spottdt him.

“Yeva! Yeva it’s me,” Jakob whispered. “I need your help, now.”

The setting sun bathed the room in warm red light. Its rays penetrated Lydia's eyelids, as she tried to breathe in and out regularly. In and out, in and out. Her heartbeat resounded in her ears, and over the thumping she nearly missed the voice calling out her name. She quickly looked around. She still sat in the same long, narrow waiting room, but by now around half of the chairs were empty now.

In the door opposite to her, a tall woman with wavy blonde hair stood. She was maybe ten years older than Lydia, and had her ears covered by a kerchief. She called out Lydia’s name a second time, and flustered, she jumped up. “H-here!”

Several of the other people snickered, most were silent, and a single pair sitting next top the other door continued their conversation unperturbed. One of the two was a short woman with hazel hair, swinging her hands around as she excitedly pointed out to the other – a blonde woman hanging her arm around a staff – what mistakes she had made in the exam this morning.

Some of the mistakes Lydia recognized that she had made herself. A bout of dizziness hit her again and she stood for another moment, then followed the one that called her into the room next door. The creaking of the floorboards and the ticking of the large clock standing at the wall resounded almost as deafening in her ears as her heartbeat. The room itself had bare walls and no decoration, the only things in it were the clock, a couple of chairs, and a tall wooden desk. Behind the desk stood an older nordmen man, his brown-black hair and beard sprinkled with grey, as he looked down at an assortment of papers spread over the desk.

“Please, come here,” he said without looking up. As Lydia closed in, he continued, “Lydia. No last name provided,” and looked up. He locked eyes with her for a second, then his gaze wandered higher up to her forehead. Lydia blinked in surprise ah he spoke further, “Let’s go through your performance in today’s test. First of all, your style was certainly unique. The way you implemented the scroll is something that I have not seen before, but you were too close. With the movement needed to fully focus on your hand, there is a chance that in real fight…”

Lydia jerked at a sudden scraping noise behind her. She swirled around, to see the woman that had called her in carry two of the chairs over. “Please, sit down,” she said. “I believe it’s better if you do. You too, dean Ackermann” Then she brought the other chair to the man.

“Is, that so?” the dean said with a confused glance in the woman’s direction. She just closed her eyes and nudged the chair in his direction. He looked at her for a bit more, but ultimately sat down. He once looked briefly into her eyes, before gazing at her forehead again. Lydia traces her forehead with her hand, trying to find whatever he was looking at, but nothing felt off. Her breathing quickened. Panic set in. Was there some discoloring? Or maybe…

“Lydia,” the woman called out from next to her.

“N-nai!” Lydia replied with a startled jump, much louder than intended. A moment later, she felt her face heat up. Her whole body tensed up, and she corrected, “I me-mean y-yes. Yes!”

“Please don’t mind the dean, there is nothing there. And, before he continues, there is something you should know: you have passed the exam. Congratulations, you are now officially a member of Nehrgald’s Adventurer’s Guild.”

Lydia stared blankly at her for a few heartbeats. Then the construct she had made in her head, all the ways she imagined to be told she had failed, crashed down like a house of cards. All her strength left her, and she slumped against the backrest.

Somewhere far in the distance, she heard the dean say, “But Eugénie, that comes at the end. This is in the wrong order now.”

“Sometimes exceptions need to happen. She couldn’t possibly have concentrated in that state,” the woman returned. In the dotted haze before Lydia’s eyes, her face appeared, and she felt something cool against her forehead. After a while, she returned to her senses and shook herself. A small handkerchief flopped to the ground with a wet sound. “Ah, you’re back. Good,” the other woman said with a smile, her voice clear again. Then she held a small bottle out to Lydia, waiting for her to drink, then turned back to the man. “Then we can continue, dean Ackermann.”

“I… I think we should, yes. Erm, where were we? Oh, wait, you jumped to the end, so should…”

“Dean, just continue where you left off,” the magister said with a sigh.

“Oh, yeah. That is a good idea, thanks.” He turned back to Lydia, looking at her ear. “As I was saying, in a real combat situation the movement…” The dean continued to explain where Lydia had made mistakes and how to avoid them. It took several minutes, then he suddenly stood up and walked back over to his desk. He took a small, flat piece of metal, which he proceeded to hand to Lydia. “This is your identification for the guild from now on. Magister les Tilleuls here will collect the temporary one when you leave.

Lydia’s gaze wandered to the magister as her name was mentioned. Sure enough, with a closer look, she could see the slight outline of a pointed ear shape.

“As the last point before you can go,” the dean continued, “as usual for the new ones we have assigned you to a party.”

“As-assigned!?” Lydia exclaimed, looking back at him.

“You’ll meet your party in room…” he began, unperturbed by her reaction, as he moved his finger across the sheet of paper in his hands. “Ah, here! In room 3. That is all for now. As my colleague has sadly already preempted, welcome to the Guild.” He finished his words with a friendly smile. Then he stood up and went back behind the desk.

“We’re having people work together for the beginning so they can each point out mistakes to other,” Magister des Tilleuls supplemented from beside Lydia.

Nachdem ich die letzten zwei Wochen krank war und mich auf nichts konzentrieren konnte, hab ich nach Rückmeldungen zur Satzstruktur die Tage meine Geschichte nochmal überarbeitet - und dabei noch ein paar kleine Details hinzugefügt. Bin jetzt mit dem Prolog fertig geworden, als nächstes kommt entsprechend Kapitel 1 dran.

Hier die neue Fassung: (ok, ich teile es auf zwei auf durch das Zeichenlimit)

Zitat

Jakob stood on a dais, a smile on his face. The trees in the courtyard shielded them from the early summer sun that shone from the spotless blue sky. Over the course of the day, it had gotten warm under the suit, as the green fabric had trapped the heat. It didn’t help that heavy gold threads were interwoven into it, which made it tug down on his shoulders even more.

He looked to the woman to the right. She wore an intricate dress made from several different fabrics, all dyed in a blue that mirrored the sky above. Like his suit, her dress was embroidered with threads of metal. Copper, in her case. The threads formed thin lines over her body, but the patterns got denser closer to the hem, the sleeves, and the collar. There, metal had fully replaced silk, cotton, and whatever other material the fabric was made from. If it wasn’t for the metallic sheen, he would have had a hard time telling where the dress ended and skin began.

A small motion drew his attention to her head. She had shifted, glancing in his direction from the corner of her eye. Her lips slid upward into a smile and she closed her eyes. It looked natural. Jakob didn’t know whether it was genuine, which was much more that could be said about himself. She opened her eyes again and looked forward. Her raven hair shook slightly, but it was firmly held in place by several pins made from the same copper as her dress and ended in jewels.

His glance drifted down her shoulder and along her left arm, as she stretched it out to the front. “Your arm too, please,” the priest standing in front of them whispered. Jakob blinked in confusion for a second, but then quickly extended his right arm. The fabric of his suit tried to drag it down again, but he firmly held his wrist next to the woman’s.

The priest took two objects from a satchel bound to his waist. He lifted both high into the air, then brought them in front of the pair. They were a pair of heavily-ornamented golden bracelets. The priest took Jakob’s arm, held the wristband against it, and snapped it shut. It clicked, and when the priest removed his hand, it didn’t open again. The metal felt cold against his skin. He watched as the priest repeated the same with the woman and wondered whether the sleeves of her dress had also been this uncomfortable to put on.

Another man walked up to them, clad in the same robes as the priest, though less decorated. He kneeled and presented a thick white string to his superior. Jakob’s gaze wandered from him to the courtyard. To the heavy benches made from polished granite, decorated with gold and jewels. And to the people sitting on them. Two dozen men sat there, in suits of several different colors. All were plain, but undoubtedly made from the most expensive materials people could get a hold of. They all sat there, and they looked at him. At them.

A slight twitch went through his cheek, but he forced himself to continue smiling.

He breathed in.

He breathed out.

The priest took the string, then walked behind them and up the dais. He pushed both ends of it through their wristbands at the same time, then held them towards the crowd, and finally tied them together. “Lady Neryja blessed this day with sunshine,” he exclaimed. The booming voice hurt in Jakob’s ears, but he kept his smile. “This day, it is a sign! A sign that Lady Neryja has blessed this marriage also!”

As he shouted the last words, he raised his hands from their arms. Starting with the knot, the whole string started to turn a vibrant purple. It looked almost as if it was spun from amethyst. From his point of view, Jakob caught a glimpse of the priest putting a small, empty vial back into the satchel around his waist. Not that this little trick wasn’t known to the people present, but none of them cared. The crowd broke out in applause, and an orchestra started to play in the corner of the courtyard. They played some complex piece of music that he had never heard of, and he doubted anyone outside of a palace wall had either.

A man, sitting alone on the bench in the first row, stood up. The suit he wore was of the same green color as Jakob’s, and his short, dark blonde hair sported a slight green hue. He turned to the guests, cleared his throat, and said, “It is done! I want to thank again our friends, no, our allies from Vasilfáros, for this token of alliance. Many of the folk outside, from peasants that have lost sight of the righteousness to foreign firebrands, have tried to hinder us, to drive a wedge between us, but they have failed! All of them have failed! Today is that day that history will be written, and it will be our history!” He raised a fist to the sky.

Jakob swallowed the urge to gag. He breathed in, he breathed out.

He wouldn’t throw a fireball at the man. At least not today. While all the focus was on the Man, the priest’s assistant loosened the knot and handed Jakob the string, as well as a small key.

The Man – Jakob refused to even think of him as his father – droned on. Jakob breathed in, and he breathed out. Something brushed against his hand. The woman next to him, or rather, his wife, had grabbed his hand, and intertwined her fingers with his. The cold metal in her dress tickled where it touched his bare skin, and the two marriage bands produced a small clanking sound as they clicked against each other. Then she leaned against him. It felt strange. Her skin was smooth, and while he had felt smooth skin before, he couldn’t place what was different this time.

It took the man some time to finish his speech, then he sat back down. On the other side of the aisle, another man stood up. He wore blue, and his skin was strongly tanned, even for a südman. He gestured at Jakob and his wife, then turned to the first speaker. „Sas efcharistó, Exochótate.” Then he turned to the crowd and continued, “Ópos eípe ídi o oikodespótis mas, o Doúkas Ortbrandt...”

Jakob didn’t understand a single word. He turned to the woman beside him and asked, “what is he saying?”

“Many thanks, Your Grace,” she translated with a smile. “As our host, Duke Ortbrandt, already said…” Her voice was pleasant, very melodic. Jakob noticed only now that he had never really heard her talk the few times they met before. They had always been at different ends of the table, and others had done the talking about the details. He didn’t really know much about her at all. Which was probably for the better, given his plans.

This second speech was shorter than the first. But before she was done translating the last sentences, the first man to speak came over. He clasped Jakob’s free left hand, interrupting her. Then he said, “I am glad it worked out, my son. At least for now, but that is for later. Now, you need to go and introduce yourself to the other nobles that have come. They have to know that our line will continue.” With a grand wave of his arm, he gestured at the crowd.

Jakob looked around. While he had watched his wife translate, he had not even noticed that court servants had brought out tables. They were placed in an arc shape behind the benches, and laden with a wide variety of food. The man gently pushed his shoulder, and almost reflexively he let go of the woman’s hand. Air rushed onto his skin, and in an instant the warmth was replaced by a cool, stinging feeling.

With slow, measured steps, he walked towards the benches. “So, what was the rest?” he asked in a somewhat hushed voice. He didn’t know why he spoke that way, but he listened to her finish as they walked. The nobles here had already noticed the food. It was hard not to, given the smells that permeated the air in the court. Some of them already came in his direction, eager to shake hands, exchange some hypocritical pleasantries, and then make their way towards the lunch. Jakob noted many of them only shook hands with him. Most did not even so much as look at his wife.

It took almost half an hour until everyone had congratulated them. Exhausted from talking, Jakob too headed in the direction of the food. And all the while, he smiled. Just like the guests.

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Hier der zweite Teil des Prologs:

Zitat

The wall slid up again behind Jakob. Everything around him was silent, though he thought his heartbeat must have been loud enough to alert someone. So he listened, but no one came even after around a minute. He gathered up all his courage. This was his chance, and he wouldn’t get a second one if he just stood around until someone came. He took a deep breath and started walking. The tunnel led him to a small pond, illuminated by moonlight that shone through a circular hole in the ceiling. Voices could be heard through too, talking calmly. Step by step, Jakob walked towards the exit, clutching a wooden shape tied to his belt.

Then his foot slipped. A small stone or two and a handful of dust rolled into the pond. He stood stock still and listened. Whoever was talking continued unperturbed. A small breath escaped his lips, but he interrupted it immediately. Then he continued towards the exit. A stream split from the pond, vanishing into the darkness of the tunnel, and Jakob followed its way. He didn’t dare to run.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed in the darkness, whether it was ten minutes or ten hours. When he broke out of the tunnel, he noted that the moon hadn’t shifted much though. Maybe half an hour, three quarters at most. The sky above was clear, as it had been the whole day. Jakob scanned through the stars, spotting the familiar constellations, using them to orient himself. Then he turned to the left and broke into a sprint.

In the distance, he spotted trees. He only dared to stop as he reached the forest, where he took a quick look back. No one had followed him. Yet. But he knew where he was, which was more than he had expected. He jogged along the forest’s edge for almost another hour, until he found a trail of trampled dirt.

He followed it inside, up to a cabin standing alone between the trees. It looked almost exactly like it did last time he had seen it, over a year ago. His heartbeat started to quicken once again as he got closer, and he knocked at the door.

Nothing happened. Was he too silent? Or maybe they were away, or even had completely left? What if someone had already found the tunnel, and were on their way here. This would be the first place to look at. His heart raced even more as his thoughts spun around inside his head. No, he had to try again!

Just as he lifted his hand again, the door creaked open. Through the slit, an eye could be seen, embedded in a head covered by large scales that looked grey in the moonlight. The eye opened wide as it spotted him.

“Yeva! Yeva it’s me,” Jakob whispered. “I need your help, now.”

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So, bin gerade eben damit fertig geworden, den bereits bestehenden Teil von Kapitel 1 zu überarbeiten. das heißt alles was nach dem hier kommt ist dann komplett neu

EDIT: ich habe noch ein paar zeilen hinzugefügt,l die sache mit dem Unterschreiben. Für noch etwas mehr Worldbuilding.

Zitat

The setting sun bathed the room in warm red light. Its rays penetrated Lydia's eyelids as she tried to breathe in and out regularly. In and out, in and out. Her heartbeat resounded in her ears, and over the thumping, she nearly missed the voice calling out her name. She quickly looked around. The white plaster on the walls was now a warm orange, but the waiting room was still the same. Only now, around half of the chairs were empty.

In the door opposite to her stood a tall woman. She had wavy blonde hair, which fell from below a kerchief that also covered her ears. The shirt she wore had more colorful patches than original fabric left. Her boots were similarly worn, though the trousers she wore were new by comparison. The woman called out Lydia’s name a second time, and flustered, she jumped up. “H-here!”

Several of the other people snickered, though most were silent. And then there was a pair of nordwomen sitting next to the other door, who continued their conversation unperturbed. One was tall, with blonde hair done in a braid that vanished under a grey cloak. A large wooden staff was leaned against the wall next to her, and she had her arm slung around it. The other sported a hazel bun and wore a leather vest over a white shirt. She swung her hands around as she excitedly pointed out to the other what mistakes she had made in the exam this morning.

Lydia recognized some of the mistakes she had made herself. A bout of dizziness hit her, again, and she stood still for another moment. If only they would stop talking, then… No, that wouldn’t make it better. It wouldn’t change what was to come, not even delay it. She steeled her nerves and pressed on, following the woman who had called her into the adjacent room.

The door clapped shut behind her, the creaking of the floorboards and the ticking of the clock resounded almost as deafening in her ears as her heartbeat. The room itself had bare walls and no decoration. The only objects in it were the large clock by the wall, a couple of chairs next to it, and a tall wooden desk. Behind the desk stood an older nordman. His brown-black hair and beard were sprinkled with grey, and he wore a set of undyed robes. Like the room, they were plain; the only adornment was a brightly colored badge that indicated he was the dean of this branch. It was sloppily attached somewhere on the left side of his chest, upside-down, and skewed by the pins that held it in place.

He stood there, looking down at the heap of paper spread all over the desk. Lydia waited for several painfully long seconds while he silently rummaged through them. Finally he said, “Please, come here,” without looking up. She complied, and he continued, “Lydia. No last name provided.” Only now did he lock eyes with her for a second. Then his gaze shifted once more, higher up to her forehead. Lydia blinked in surprise as he spoke further, “Let’s go through your performance in today’s test. First of all, your style was certainly unique. The way you implemented the scroll is something that I have not seen before, but you were too close. With the movement needed to fully focus on your hand, there is a chance that in real fight…”

Lydia jerked at a sudden scraping noise behind her. She swirled around, to see the woman who had called her in carry two of the chairs over. “Please, sit down,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I believe it’s better if you do. You too, dean Ackermann.” Then she brought the other chair to the man.

“Is… that so?” the dean said with a confused glance in the woman’s direction. “It’s only been an hour, I can still stand.” She just closed her eyes and nudged the chair closer in his direction. He looked at her for a bit more, but ultimately sat down. He once again looked briefly into Lydia’s eyes, before gazing at her forehead. She patted herself, trying to find whatever he was looking at, but nothing felt off. Her breathing quickened. Panic set in. Was there some discoloring? Or maybe…

“Lydia,” the other woman called out from next to her.

“N-nai!” Lydia replied with a startled jump, much louder than intended. A moment later, she felt her face heat up. Her whole body tensed up, and she corrected, “I me-mean y-yes. Yes!”

“Please don’t mind the dean, there is nothing there. And before he continues, there is something you should know: you have passed the admission exam. Congratulations, you are now officially a member of Nehrgald’s Adventurer’s Guild.”

Lydia stared blankly at her for a few heartbeats. Then the construct she had made in her head, all the ways she imagined to be told she had failed, crashed down like a house of cards. All her strength left her, and she slumped against the backrest.

Somewhere far in the distance, she heard the dean say, “But Eugénie, that comes at the end. This is in the wrong order now.”

“Sometimes exceptions need to happen. She couldn’t possibly have concentrated in that state,” the woman returned. In the dotted haze before Lydia’s eyes, her face appeared. She felt something cool against her forehead. After a while, she returned to her senses and shook herself. A small handkerchief flopped to the ground with a wet sound. “Ah, you’re back with us. Good,” the other woman said with a smile, her voice clear again in her ears. Then she held a small bottle out to Lydia.

She gingerly took a few sips. It was just water, but it spread through her dry mouth like melitsái. Then she drank some more. Before she knew it, the bottle was completely empty. She felt her cheeks heat up as she looked back to the woman. “Er, I, I didn…”

“It’s okay,” the woman answered with a smile. “We have enough here, it’s just plain water anyway. Should I get more?”

“N-not necessary. … Ah, and thank you.”

“No problem.” Then she turned back to the dean and said, “I think she’s ready to continue, dean Ackermann.”

“I… I think we should, yes. Erm, where were we? Oh, wait, you jumped to the end, so should…”

“Dean, just continue where you left off,” the magister said with a sigh.

“Oh, yeah. That is a good idea, thanks.” He turned back to Lydia, looking at her ear. “As I was saying, in a real combat situation the movement…”

The dean continued to explain where Lydia had made mistakes and how to avoid them, but that her techniques looked solid overall. This took several minutes, then he suddenly stopped and stood up. He walked over to his desk. There he rummaged through a drawer, accompanied by the sound of clanking metal. He brought a small, flat piece of grey metal over, which he handed to Lydia. It had a circle made from a complicated pattern etched into the surface, and her name was engraved in its center. “This is your identification for the guild from now on. Magister les Tilleuls here will collect the temporary one when you leave.”

Lydia’s gaze wandered to the magister as her name was mentioned. Sure enough, with a closer look, she could see the slight outline of pointed ears under the kerchief.

The dean then presented her with a piece of paper. “Also, you need to sign that you got it. Can you write?”

“Yes, of co…” Lydia started. Then she remembered where she was. “I mean, yes. I was taught.”

“Good, good.”

“You haven’t been trained here from the beginning, so we can’t be sure,” magister des Tilleuls explained as Lydia took the quill and wrote her first name down.

“As the last point before you can go,” dean Ackermann continued as he placed the document in another drawer, “as usual for the new ones we have assigned you to a party.”

“As-assigned!?” Lydia exclaimed as she looked back at him.

“You’ll meet your party in room…” he began, unperturbed by her reaction. His finger moved across the sheet of paper under his hands. “Ah, here! In room 3. That is all for now. As my colleague has sadly already preempted, welcome to the Guild.” He finished his words with a friendly smile. Then he stood up and went back behind the desk.

“We’re having people work together for the beginning so you can point out mistakes to each other,” Magister des Tilleuls supplemented from beside Lydia. “When the trial period is over, you can decide whether to stay or seek a new party.”

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Nachdem ich das Wochenende über etwas in Blender an nem Raumschiff gearbeitet hab, hab ich heute wieder geschrieben. MIt dem hier ist Kapitel 1 jetzt abgeschlossen.

Zitat

“I …“ Lydia began. What should she do? She had already made a mistake when she had given her real name, and the fewer people she had to deal with, the better. The less she could blurt out something revealing. “Do I have to join a party?”

“Yes. It is guild policy to not let people go alone, at least during the trial period,” the elven woman said, and laid a hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll get along, though. But! We have others still waiting. As the Dean said, you’ll be joined by the rest of your party in Room three. After you pass the reception, continue down the hall, it’s on the left.”

Lydia nodded. “Straight. On the left,” she murmured to herself. Then she took a small wooden plate from her pocket which had her name on it. “And here is the other identification.” She handed it over to Magister des Tilleuls, who put it into a pouch on her waist. The magister opened the door.

As she stepped through, the Dean said, “Eugénie, please call the next one in.”

The exit was directly opposite of her. She walked into the hallway beyond. It was coated in the same white plaster as the waiting room, which shone in the same orange evening light. She turned around just as the magister announced, “The next one is Jacinthe.” The person sitting right next to the office door stood up. They – or rather she, going by the name – had a grey-brown hood drawn deep into her face, and a shawl hid everything below the eyes. She quickly walked into the office, and Lydia continued through the building.

Past a corridor forking of to the side, then down a set of stairs. To her left there were several doors, a metal number on each. The first one had sixteen. Then fifteen. As she passed room nine, the corridor widened into the reception area. To her right were the large main doors, made from carved wood and painted in many colors. To her left, a counter – now empty – stood, and benches lined the walls.

On the opposite side, the corridor continued. Eight. Seven. Six. Lydia stopped at the door that had a three on it. Like all the others before, it was closed. So she knocked, and when there was no answer after a few heartbeats, she reached for the handle. As expected, the room wasn’t locked.

What she didn’t expect was that it was dark and empty. The room was only a few meters on each side, had no windows, and only a table stood in the middle with a few chairs around it. From the ceiling, just above the table, a small metal sphere hung on a cord. It originated right between a small box and a metal mounting. The mounting held a small crystal, which gave off a faint bluish light.

Lydia left the door open and stepped towards the table. Her shadow on the opposite wall lifted its right hand in the air as she reached out for the cord. Then she pulled it down, just a bit, and heard a clicking noise. From the construct, two lines of dim light crept across the ceiling. They meandered around for a second, following a metal pathway applied to the ceiling that became a bit more visible the further they went. Then they met up. The light intensified, illuminating the whole room, and banishing much of Lydia’s shadow from the wall onto the floor.

She looked around. The walls were empty, though on the one to her right she spotted holes where something used to be nailed into it. Otherwise, there was nothing. Why was no one here? Did they … did they assign her to a team all on her own? A little bit of hope welled up inside of her, but it faded soon after. No, there was a much more likely reason. And she had no idea what to do anyway, even if she was on her own.

Heaving a heavy sigh, she walked around the table and sat down. She closed her eyes. Red sunlight penetrated her eyelids as she waited. Let her thoughts drift. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but after a while she heard footsteps faintly echoing through the hallway.

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Es geht wieder (neu) los, wechsle jetzt wieder auf die Fantasygeschichte. Habe mir vorngeommen konsistenter zu schreiben, und da hab ich einfach für die hier nen etwas besseren Plan wie die Story verlaufen soll. Daher hier jetzt schonmal der Anfang.

Wie üblich, für drüben für die Besprechung, wäre meine Frage wie sich das so ließt, und was für Infos sich aus dem jetzt schon herauslesen lassen. (Und evetuell noch als "Bonusfrage," wie ist das im Vergleich zu den vorherigen Versionen?)

Shit, ich merk grad ich hab gestern vergessen den eigentlichen Text mit rein zu posten 😅

Naja. Dann jetzt hier, zusammen mit dem nächsten Teil:

Zitat

Jakob stood on a dais in a courtyard, a smile on his face. Above him, the blue sky stretched … well, it stretched as far as it could, down to the castle walls. Safe for the early summer sun It was spotless. The rays bore down on him, from its position almost at the zenith, and heat gathered beneath his clothes. Even the green silk trapped enough heat to make him sweat.

And the golden threads embroidered into the fabric didn’t help. It wasn’t the heaviest clothes he had ever worn – not by far – but it pressed down on his shoulders nonetheless. Still, he kept his smile.

“A bit to the left. Your left, I mean,” the man standing in front of him said. He wore a brown linen garb, the hood drawn deep down into his face, the long sleeves falling over his hands. Jakob did as he was told. Then the man came closer and kneeled down, adjusting the position of his foot a little. “Everything has to be perfect when the Officiator arrives,” the priest mumbled. He knocked lightly against the fine leather shoe to nudge it a bit to the side. Jakob let him. And still, he kept his smile.

The priest stood up and scurried away, while two court attendants already ushered the first guests to the two rows of benches. Jakob watched as more and more men trickled into the courtyard. There was one wearing clothes almost as heavily embroidered as his own, but not quite. And the rest still wore the finest silk that people were able to get, even if it was plain on this day. Nobles from all across the country, and a few from surrounding ones, slowly filled the seats in front of his eyes. And still, he kept his smile.

Something creaked behind him, but he didn’t dare to turn around. It was one of the doors that had opened, and he heard the Priest say, “Here. Stand to the right.”

“Yes,” A soft-spoken, feminine voice replied curtly. Something clacked against the ground in regular intervals, coming closer. Jakob turned to the side, careful not to move his feet from their position, as a woman stepped up onto the dais next to him. She looked at him, her face decorated with a smile too. That was when his expression faltered, for a moment, replaced by awe – the first genuine feeling of the day.

The woman herself – Lydia. Lydia was her name, Jakob reminded himself – was already beautiful on her own, but the dress she wore was gorgeous. She had deeply tanned skin, only a small jump in color away from the copper threads woven into the dress. The hem, the cuffs, and the neckline were almost purely metal. Further in, it was more and more replaced by silk, first of a sandy beige color, which itself made way to ocean blue for the center of the dress.

Her long, black hair was done up, held in place by three pins, of course made from copper too. Their heads were decorated with a fitted sapphire each, socketed in a way that made it look like they were one single piece, changing from metal to gem in a wavy motion.

Taking it in as a whole, just producing this dress and the hairpins must have cost somewhere around ten thousand goldwaller, maybe up to eleven thousand! And then the shoes on top, but he couldn’t see them from his angle. All just for this occasion, as he couldn’t imagine there would be many more opportunities to wear it afterwards.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by the priest walking a circle around the dais. He looked at them from all directions, stood directly in front of them, and murmured something to himself. “Take half a step towards me,” he finally said to Lydia. When she did, he looked for another half second and continued, “A bit closer to him. More. M-hmm. M-hmm. Yes, stop now! Next, both of you, hold the arm up in front of you so that they touch.”

Remembering the paintings he had seen of marriages previously, Jakob lifted his right hand up to just beneath his head. Lydia followed a moment later with her left, their arms slightly bumping into each other.

The priest let out another light grumble, then reached for her arm and pulled it a bit to the front, so that their wrists were next to each other. “When the Officiator tells you to lift, hold them like this,” he explained. Then he dropped to his knees and reached under Lydias dress. Jakob could hear the slight scraping of metal on stone as the priest adjusted Lydia’s feet.

The eyes of the two met, and for a fraction of a second her expression shifted. He thought he recognized discomfort, but she banished it from her face too soon to say for sure. He surely wouldn’t be surprised if it was. But, there was nothing she could do. Or he. Or anyone else here, for that matter. Sure, his uncle could have requested a priestess to also accompany the Officiator. He almost had to laugh at the thought. As if that man would care how she felt.

“Perfect,” the priest said. “Put your arms down again, and stay like that until the Officiator arrives. Should be any moment.” With these words he turned and left the courtyard.

Only now did Jakob notice a frown had set on his face, which he quickly corrected. He evidently wasn’t as good as his bride at holding up the mask. Well, he doubted any of the men sitting in the court would care about that either. He was pretty sure what they would assume, namely that he was just scowling at the priest for touching what was supposed to soon be ‘his possession’.

Just at that moment four large organ pipes – each built into one tower of the surrounding walls – started to play at once, in a convenient coincidence hiding his snort. The tone echoed along the walls, merging the four notes into one, then vanished. It was noon. All the muted chattering among the noblemen stopped at once. The courtyard’s main door, directly opposite of the dais, began to open, painfully slow, and revealed a group of four more men.

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Für den neuen Abschnitt, das ist alles ab

"His train of thoughts was interrupted by the priest walking a circle around the dais."

wäre meine Hauptfrage, ob Jakobs Verachtung für die Zuschauer, und speziell den Onkel, da gut genug rüberkommt.

Uuuund nächste Iteration. Hab als Rückmeldung bekommen die vorherige hat zu viel Exposition und zu wenig was einen festhält, wäre dadurch sehr Zäh zu lesen, daher jetzt das:

Zitat

Jakob stood on a dais in a courtyard, a smile on his face. Above him, the blue sky stretched … well, it stretched as far as it could, down to the castle walls. Safe for the early summer sun it was spotless. The rays bore down on him, and heat gathered beneath his suit. The green silk clung to his skin, damp with sweat, and the embroidery of gold treads made the cloth press down on his shoulders.

He looked around. Guests slowly trickled into the courtyard, ushered to their seats by castle attendants. There were nobles from all over the country, and quite a few from abroad, taking their seats on the two rows of benches placed in front of him. All their eyes bore down on him! He took a deep breath and steeled his nerves. It was almost noon. Only a few more minutes.

Something creaked behind him, one of the doors. “Here, this way. Please stand to the right,” a man said.

“Yes,” A soft-spoken, feminine voice replied curtly. Something clacked against the ground in regular intervals, coming closer.

A moment later a man in rough-spun brown robes came into view, his hood drawn deep into his face and hands covered by long sleeves. The priest placed a small satchel next to the dais. “The Officiator will soon be here,” he informed them before returning in the direction from which he had come. Something moved in the corner of Jakob’s eye, and he turned around just as the second person stopped directly next to him.

A woman with deep brown eyes, raven hair, and tanned skin stood there. Lydia – his bride – locked eyes with him for a moment, then slightly brushed her arm against his with a relaxed smile. The motion felt natural. Her expression looked genuine.

Jakob had no idea what went on behind the perfect façade that was her face.

She looked pretty. And that was about all he could say. They had only met each other a few times prior – no, not even met, they were just given a look from a distance – when the Dysinikean diplomats had brought her along during the negotiations. He wasn’t even sure if he had ever heard her voice before today! So here they stood now, to be bound together as a symbol of their countries’ alliance. And he had no idea who she really was.

Well, he would find out. As far as his uncle was concerned, they would spend a long time together.

A long time, starting from this moment. The grand door opposite of the dais swung open, and another man stepped out. He wore a similar brown linen garb to the priest, but his had purple sleeves, and a strip of the same color ran from the hood down along the back. All the nobles in the courtyard stopped their muted chatters and turned. The Officiator had arrived, and with this the ceremony had finally started.

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ALso ja. ICh hab jetzt auch überlegt dass das ne abgeschlossene Szene ist, und die eigentlcihe Zeremonie übersprungen wird.

Nächste Runde!

Zitat

Jakob stood on a dais in a courtyard, a smile on his face. Above him, the blue sky stretched … well, it stretched as far as it could, down to the castle walls. Aside from the early summer sun it was spotless. The rays bore down on him, and heat gathered beneath his suit. Damp with sweat the green silk clung to his skin, and the embroidery of gold treads made the cloth press down on his shoulders.

He looked around. Ushered in seats by castle attendants, the guests slowly trickled into the courtyard. There were nobles from all over the country, and quite a few from abroad, taking their seats on the two rows of benches placed in front of him. All their eyes were on him. As if to escape at least with his mind, even if he couldn’t run away, Jakob averted his gaze. It wandered around the court, from the main door over the still silent orchestra and the yet empty buffet up to the main towers clock. Almost noon, only a few more minutes.

Coming from behind him, he heard one of the doors creak. “Here, this way. Please stand to the right,” a man said.

“Yes,” A soft-spoken, feminine voice replied curtly. Something clacked against the ground in regular intervals, coming closer.

A moment later, a man in rough-spun brown robes came into view, the hood drawn deep into his face and his hands concealed by long sleeves. Placing a small satchel next to the dais, the priest announced, “The Officiator will soon be here,” before quickly heading back. Something moved in the corner of Jakob’s eye, prompting him to turn around.

There stood a woman with deep brown eyes, raven hair, and tanned skin. Lydia – his bride – locked eyes with him for a moment, then slightly brushed her arm against his with a relaxed smile. A motion that felt natural, and an expression that looked genuine. But Jakob had no idea what went on behind that façade.

They had only met each other a few times prior – no, not even met, they were just given a look from a distance – when the Dysinikean diplomats had brought her along during the negotiations. He wasn’t even sure if he had ever heard her voice before today. As such, the only thing he could judge was her looks.

And indeed, she was beautiful. That was just by herself, but wearing that dress made her gorgeous. Ornaments from copper thread, only a shade different in color from her skin, permeated the fabric. Most dense at the hem, cuffs, and neckline, the metal gave way to a sandy beige silk, which then gradually changed to an ocean blue in the center of the dress. Her long, black hair was done up, held in place by pins and clasps. A necklace coiled around her throat. Earrings. Rings. Of course, all made from copper too, she came from the nobility of Dysinikes after all. Just producing this dress must have cost somewhere around ten thousand goldwaller, maybe up to eleven thousand, Jakob mused. And that was without the jewelry.

No, now was not the time. Money was not the important thing here, the symbol was. As a symbol of their countries’ alliance, Lydia and he would be bound together – even if he had no idea who she really was. Well, as far as his uncle was concerned, he would find out. They were to spend a long time tother. Not that Jakob had any intention of following the path laid out by that man. An opportunity was the only thing Jakob needed, and he would be gone. A moment where nobody was watching him. Where he could slip away, where he could…

Piercing through his thoughts, the howling of an enchanted guitar echoed across the courtyard. One after another, the rest of the orchestra joined in. Jakob’s eyes flicked back to the clock. Noon. Not even half a minute after the band started, the grand door swung open, revealing another brown-robed man. Unlike the priest, his garb had purple sleeves, and a strip of the same color ran from the hood down along the back.

The Officiator had arrived, and with this the ceremony had finally started.

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Wie ließt sich das im Vergleich zur letzten Version?

So, hab das mit dem Kleid wie vorgeschlagen rausgenommen. HIer das update:

Zitat

Jakob stood on a dais in a courtyard, a smile on his face. Above him, the blue sky stretched … well, it stretched as far as it could, down to the castle walls. Aside from the early summer sun it was spotless. The rays bore down on him, and heat gathered beneath his suit. Damp with sweat the green silk clung to his skin, and the embroidery of gold treads made the cloth press down on his shoulders.

He looked around. Ushered in seats by castle attendants, the guests slowly trickled into the courtyard. There were nobles from all over the country, and quite a few from abroad, taking their seats on the two rows of benches placed in front of him. All their eyes were on him. As if to escape at least with his mind, even if he couldn’t run away, Jakob averted his gaze. It wandered around the court, from the main door over the still silent orchestra and the yet empty buffet up to the main towers clock. Almost noon, only a few more minutes.

Coming from behind him, he heard one of the doors creak. “Here, this way. Please stand to the right,” a man said.

“Yes,” A soft-spoken, feminine voice replied curtly. Something clacked against the ground in regular intervals, coming closer.

A moment later, a man in rough-spun brown robes came into view, the hood drawn deep into his face and his hands concealed by long sleeves. Placing a small satchel next to the dais, the priest announced, “The Officiator will soon be here,” before quickly heading back. Something moved in the corner of Jakob’s eye, prompting him to turn around.

There stood a woman with deep brown eyes, raven hair, and tanned skin. Lydia – his bride – locked eyes with him for a moment, then slightly brushed her arm against his with a relaxed smile. A motion that felt natural, and an expression that looked genuine. But Jakob had no idea what went on behind that façade.

They had only met each other a few times prior – no, not even met, they were just given a look from a distance – when the Dysinikean diplomats had brought her along during the negotiations. He wasn’t even sure if he had ever heard her voice before today. As such, the only thing he could judge was her looks. And indeed, she was beautiful.

No, now was not the time. They themselves were not the important thing here, the symbol was. As a symbol of their countries’ alliance, Lydia and he would be bound together – even if he had no idea who she really was. Well, as far as his uncle was concerned, he would find out. They were to spend a long time tother. Not that Jakob had any intention of following the path laid out by that man. An opportunity was the only thing Jakob needed, and he would be gone. A moment where nobody was watching him. Where he could slip away, where he could…

Piercing through his thoughts, the howling of an enchanted guitar echoed across the courtyard. One after another, the rest of the orchestra joined in. Jakob’s eyes flicked back to the clock. Noon. Not even half a minute after the band started, the grand door swung open, revealing another brown-robed man. Unlike the priest, his garb had purple sleeves, and a strip of the same color ran from the hood down along the back.

The Officiator had arrived, and with this the ceremony had finally started.

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So, hier der beginn der zweiten Szene vom ersten Kapitel.

Zitat

The moon hung low in the sky. Its silvery light spilled through the windows as Jakob entered his bedroom, and Lydia directly behind him. It fell onto a large wooden chest in the middle of the room, one that Jakob didn’t recognize.

“Where is the second one?” Lydia asked from beside him.

“Second?” he asked back.

“In those are the belongings I brought here. One for my garments and the other for anything else. They should have both arrived at the same time,” she explained while opening the chest. The sheen of metal, sand-colored wood; those were the first things Jakob could recognize. “It seems my clothing has yet to arrive.”

A spark of interest flickered up within him.

He peered over her shoulder to take a closer look – and stopped in confusion. Jewelry lay there at the top, so far so good. Gold, not he symbolic bronze she had worn today for the ceremopny, or rather was still wearing. But also two decks of playing cards, a bundle of cloth, and even … a lute? Lost in his thought, he picked the instrument up, turning it in his hands, letting the moonlight reflect off of the metallic lines engraved into the wood.

Why did she have an instrument with her?

“Do you want me to play something for you?” Lydia said from the side, where she sat on his bed, in just her underdress. Jakob blinked. When did she get there? When did she get out from directly in front of him? Had he really been staring at her stuff for – well, for at least long enough that she managed to take off the wedding dress.

“I … erm … you can play?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Of course she could play! Why else should she bring it here.

“Of course I can play,” Lydia said, a hint of confusion slipping through the calm, soft voice she had spoken in all day. “I have been taught like normal, in both modes. The harp too. And, of course, singing, though I only know songs from my home as of now.”

Normal. Normal. Jakob felt his cheeks heat up as he realized his mistake. Yes, she was a typical noblewoman, just like he had expected – or at least she acted like one, he couldn’t be sure about that yet. She just wasn’t a Hachingian noblewoman.

An awkward silence stretched out in the room, causing Jakob to become even redder, no doubt.

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