Legend of Ransera

On his second day in Kalzasi, Rhydian Val'Kor woke unaided as his usual hour and conducted those elements of his morning routine he was able to observe in this strange land. Although Kalzasi hadn't been the first stop on his trip, this represented the young Hytori's first venture outside of the elven motherland, so there was still an anxious excitement brimming beneath what mild expressions he wore as he regarded his fair visage in the looking glass.

Though he'd seemed reluctant to leave Rhydian to his own devices, the prince has insisted that his travel companion, Karrhei, go on his temple tours on his own.

"I am a fully functional adult capable of traversing Kalzasern streets bereft of the guidance of another absolute stranger to the realm..." He'd explained in a tone that read more didactic than dry. Karrhei, after all, was just as new to travel outside of Sol'Valen as he, and there were tasks on both of their agendas that would call for them to separate from time to time. Karrhei had duties to his god and Rhydian had duties to his...

As one of the servants sent from Silfanore fussed over his straight, crimson hair, the prince drew an envelope from a pocket concealed in the folds of his robes. As he slipped the note from out the envelope he brought it to his nose first, to smell the same perfumed aroma that graced the pillow on which lay the head of the Phoenix King. He held in that breath, as if hesitant to release it. When he did, it was through a wistful sigh. He unfolded the missive and regarded what few words there were etched in Ailuin's own hand. As King Ailuin dwelt betimes in the realm of dreams, it was not unusual for his mercurial majesty to leave Rhydian like a lucid dream... wanting for more. This task was certainly no exception, vague as it was. There was, at least, an address.

Distracted as he was by other matters, Rhydian wouldn't even note the rising brow of the concierge at The Icewing Grand Hotel, when he inquired after directions.


Rhydian pursed his lips as he regarded the signpost. The aptly-named Half-forgotten Inn was situated in the equally-aptly-named Kalzasi Commons, a far cry and a formidable distance from his provisional lodgings in the Cloudhaven District. Taking a deep breath, he stepped up to the door, starting as it swung toward him. Dancing out of the way of a boisterously inebriated human lumbering out of the public house, he caught the door before it swung back in and stepped inside.

A cursory glance around the main floor revealed no other Hytori. Perhaps this would be more involved than the work of a simple courier, he thought, making his way to the bar and placing a palm down upon the mahogany.

"Blackberry sherry, if you have it. Brandywine, if not."