Francine Beaupre's Story

There were smiles all around. Laughter and cheery banter, a few cheeky jokes here and there. A great many smells roamed from nose to nose some ill, most were pleasant. Of food and perfumes and other things but these were things she could not enjoy. The music and laughter of the people around were muffled by the loud steps of her armed escorts. Two men hired by her father to keep her safe while she roamed the capitol during the festival. It would be about two hours before the Coronation Festival officially started and later during the night the Coronation Ceremony would commence in the Palace Plaza. That was two hours she would have to spend with these idiots.

"Oy, make way you lot! Lady Francine of the House Beaupre approaches!", One of them shouted to clear out the thick crowd. Everyone followed suit, fearing the worse. "M'lady." He addressed her and gestured forward. Francine faintly smiled and continued on, the glares of the crowd weighing on her. However, she had an idea at that instant. Rather than step forward she put her hands to her mouth and whistled, the spell hidden in the very tune she whistled as she stepped forward. The illusion cast, of a very stubborn Francine Beaupre arguing with her guards and those affected were those who heard it. It would be as real as day if it worked, perhaps even drawing the attention of some who didn't even see it. It wouldn't last too long and so when she had taken a few steps forward, she darted away.

The wind picked up her long dress, she glanced over her shoulder to see her own handy work and giggled. They never learn...She thought happily as she rushed into a clothing store to change into something less...noble. Eventually she would have to do just as her father wanted but at the very least these next two hours would be hers.

Hodgepodge watched the dust swirl by all colored and dancing to highlight the stars now so thinly laid in his sky. Only the dust could make new stars even then only some suitable for such things. Certainly not empty space in between such as itself. This empty space however was ever watchful. A change caught the eyes along both skies pulsing. One of many that are a collection of dust in their own right this one shaking the sky to its own design. How curious a quake.

A central blue eye focused on beryllium bronze hands clenched to bring its thoughts back onto the earth. Striations in the blue gem impulsed by patterns their own. Aligned along two gleaming intersections Hodgepodge's eyes looked down pushing itself away from hard grey stone. A solidity of resting bedrock on which the dust could seek purpose. A void such as itself seeks to be filled like the purpose of the first engine was to be the first cradle of stars. The errant eddies of the dusty river around him didn't find the solidity of flesh for several seconds. Hodgepodge and its sky was sat behind a crate ignored by the people but now sunk deep into a river of them. Two guards threw patterns at an exploding star slowly falling under the river of dust to be used again. The cradle of that star however where had she gone?

Carrying oneself along with the current of dust was momentarily tiring a profound solidity to its limbs while coherence of time returned. Swimming through the river to pace with reality as the bronze robot took in eddies on the sea. Warmth from the cradle of a newborn star drew hodgepodge near the burn of one already sparked grew cold. On the wind are ashes of creation pouring into his senses with a hum in the first machine's sky on his ears. Its eye saw the human that wandered still alight with creation. It waded through the chatter of other people, against an inert wind of thought, while largely ignoring those around it in turn. Ones like him, as thinly it thought of that notion, were perhaps not entirely ignored but that dust neither adhered. At least unless one of the people cared enough to not gather the current around them to see the ones swimming upstream. Faceless by disinterest people moved aside or around by the spellcast adherent fully engaged with a hymn of the first engine. The whirl pool of draining dust darkens the shop door to find the scent of ashes.

They never learn... thought Jaxon, roughly two hundred feet above Duchess Beaupre, watching the noble enter the plain clothing store.

From the balcony of the restaurant across the street sat the infamous highwayman, none of the guests knowing that he had snuck onto the elevated platform overlooking the street and taken his seat among the other patrons in a span of seconds. No one had even batted an eye. No one gave him a close look. He kept his head buried into the menu, hiding his marauder's hat within while his eyes kept gaze on one spot in the street...one store in particular.

The street itself was packed. Granted, it was always packed with merchants and customers trying to purchase something extravagant for their own personal gain. But this time, the street was nearly tripled on occupants, all here to see the Coronation and enjoy everything the festival had to offer. Such an event would offer fantastic deals on typically high-priced items. Things as ornate as semi-valuable jewelry and party dresses to things as practical as baked bread and jugs of water. Even the prank shop down the street was out of stock of their highest selling item: Shock-Sticks. They were one-use batons that used a tiny amount of Synthetic Magic to send a small electrical volt into an unsuspecting victim. A child's gag, no less, but everything was being bought today.

After all, it wasn't like an empress was crowned every day of the week.

"Good evening, sir! Can I get you anything to drink?"

Jaxon barely glanced up from the menu, using his peripherals to examine the young serving girl. Her blonde hair done up in a dazzling style that seemed to gleam in the setting sun's light. Her eyes sparkled with excitement at the atmosphere around her and her smile was probably whiter than the neat and orderly uniform she wore.

Naive.

"I'll need one moment, please," Jaxon gruffly replied from behind the menu. The girl nodded in understanding and walked off, helping another customer at another table. He turned his attention back towards the clothing store, waiting to see the woman walk out of it.

Arcania, the capital city of the Achenian Empire and the location where a veteran found himself deployed to. Ryan Wilson, one of the few survivors of a daring siege in the Wastelands. He was sent to Arcania as a sign of goodwill to protect Lady Francine. Wearing a black combat vest with a skull printed on it, a pair of black pants and equipped with two hand cannons and a rifle strapped to his back.

As he arrived at where Lady Francine was supposed to be at, everything appeared fine. Her personal guards clearing the way for her and that is when she suddenly began arguing with the guards. It was a rather sudden event, now why would she begin arguing with her own guards? Something was strange here, and he soon realised something. Magic, that was not the really Lady Francine, it was just a clever illusion. It was clever but there was a new problem. "Where did she go...she should know that there could be assassins lurking around waiting for an opportunity to take her out. I should locate her before such a thing happens." With that said he had his mission. Locate and secure Francine and bring her back to her guards.