51st of Glade, Year 120
It felt nice. It had gotten warmer.
And most importantly, he was unknown to the people here. Whether the winds had blown cold or not, that would have been enough.
Aréas wasn't wearing nearly so much as he often had to in public spaces. In Railón, the Entente followed different standards than here. Raillén culture in general was... distinctively liberated, removed from the Gentevarese pretenses of class and taste. Their worship of Ulen was still strong -- perhaps even stronger -- but it was different. Here, even though all around the city was Raillén lands, the Entente still roamed the streets with three layers of jackets and thickly padded shoulders, wearing a beret at the least. At the most, masques adorned with ridiculous pointed hats, embroidered with silver lines. They looked far from the humans they were. But he supposed that that was what they wanted to be.
Réas wore a simple beige shirt, loose and with no sleeves. He wore short white trousers to vaguely conceal his legs, which followed into comfortable beige slippers, matching the shade of his simple vest. Nothing about him particularly spoke to his class; he was certainly not a commoner, but not a noble either. Perhaps a member of the Halamire. He had the build for it, and the same reckless abandon tied into his behaviors. Fortunately, there was no one around to really speculate. He had managed to go far out enough from Amoren -- perhaps a two hour walk away -- that he was entering the vast ranch area filling its eastern exterior. The lands remained green and the trees still uniquely colored, but they were somewhat rarer, and the hills held the faintest touch of gold.
He looked over his shoulder as if to call to Reina. Normally, she accompanied him everywhere, but of late she'd been spending all of her hours seeking to court Lord... whatever his name was. For once, the Veir was traveling entirely alone, which felt serene in a way -- if dull. The nature farther out and even within the city limits was impressive, but perhaps not to the same degree as Railón. And he had seen it all before. And... this was where House Courvagne had been exposed to countless suffering; where it had met its fate.
Some part of him liked distancing himself from Amoren. Seeing the grandiose nature of the city, all of the wealth and prestige ascribed to it, and the truly colossal monument that was Ardenserat... it felt wrong. Like it had all been taken from him; like he had been deprived. And by the nature of shame, he would never see the riches or the glory that his father held. At least he would also be spared the humiliation.
His excitement momentarily grew. The town square for this... frontier community - though it was truthfully far from that - was right ahead. He could already see people gathering, all manner of maidens with their buckets of... whatever slop they were carrying, and gentlemen with their animals and their sticks. It was very proletarian. He laughed at the idea that some of the Entente were known to come to this little town, discreetly bedding the residents. He could not quite see the appeal, as many of them were covered in the shit and grime of their beasts. The Veir was more interested in the other outsiders. People who were also fleeing the city for equal discretion; they often had the greatest stories to tell.
