Festival

“Do stop squirming, my Lady. You are nine years old now and it is time to stop behaving like a hooligan,”
Asthore fought the urge to scratch at her dress, much to Mistress Briley’s disapproval. Today was the first day of the Belisama Festival. The celebration lasted a week. There were many, many competitions, many games. Asthore herself was being entered in multiple competitions that her various tutors had been coaching her for. A lot of betting was done, a lot of food and drink was sold and generally, it was a good day for all. For Asthore, it only meant that she was made to wear a dress rather than her preferred trousers and tunic.
The real highlight of each day however, was the Testing. As night fell, children around the age of ten would be tested for magical potential. Every child went through it; and those few who tested positive would then be sent to Ertai to learn their craft. This year, Asthore would be Tested. She was terrified.
Finally, Mistress Briely stepped back and examined her handiwork. She nodded in approval and then gestured for Asthore to come and see herself in the floor-length mirror fixed to her chamber wall. Covering a yawn with her hand, she looked.
Mistress Briely always made her look pretty. Her rich wheat-coloured hair was pulled back at the sides, leaving the majority of it to spill to her waist in waves. Her skin was the colour of cream and roses and her blue eyes shone beneath black-painted lashes. Her dress was simple but made from rich, imported silk, dyed the deep crimson of her House embroidered with gold thread.
“Thank you, Mistress Briely,” she said.
The servant carefully patted her hair, careful not to displace any of the pins she had been so carefully placing since dawn.
“Be certain not to ruin my work before midday, High Lady,”
Asthore wrinkled her nose. She hated it when people referred to her by her title. Being called a High Lady made her feel like a grown-up and they never had any fun.
“Can I go now?” she asked impatiently.
Mistress Briley sighed, “Very well. Off with you now,”
The girl scampered away, lifting her skirts to go faster.
The Castle grounds were abuzz with activity and the general feeling of excitement was infectious. Hearing the cheery noises and catching the scent of the mouth-watering aromas drifting lazily from the kitchens, Asthore began to forget her nerves. Although this time it was slightly different, the Belisama Festival was something she normally anticipated year round. Beneath her skirts, a small pouch was tucked away and the silver coins within clinked together softly as she moved.
The City of Rynn, the capitol of Anvor, was built around the castle in which Asthore and the other members of the gentry lived. Beyond the castle walls lived the ordinary folk, the lower and middle classes. Only during the festival did Asthore ever get to meet such people, for the celebrations did not take place within the castle but out on the streets, in the city itself.
She could not leave for the festivities yet, however. She prowled around the castle’s gardens, senses alert. She heard it as a small group attempted to sneak up on her. Grinning, she whipped around to confront the newcomers. Three of her friends, the brothers Dacian and Reagan, as well as a servant boy, Duff, stood behind her. Dacian looked sheepish and Reagan clapped him over the back of the head.
“You walk too heavily,” he accused his older sibling.
Duff laughed. He was apprenticed to the Master of the Hounds and he spent a lot of time with the other two boys. Away from the adults, who were obsessed with their hierarchy, all four children were equal. Asthore could wear trousers and play with the boys and Duff would not be looked down upon.
Reagan and Dacian were as dressed up as Asthore was. Both wore their House colours, rich blue shirts with white dress-pants. Each had silver embroidery over their clothing but Dacian had slightly more. Privately, Asthore thought that Duff, in his regular work clothes, looked better than all of them, herself included.
“Shall we go?” Dacian asked.
It was easy enough for him. He had already undergone his Testing the year before last. The majority of Anvorans were not magical but there were always an unlucky few who were singled out, sent away and then ostracised and distrusted upon their return. The other three shared a look. All of them would be tried this year.
“I’ll be tested tonight,” Reagan said with a grimace, “At least it’ll be done,”
“I’m on Fourth Day,” Duff said.
“The same as me,” Asthore pitched in, forcing a smile, “You and I can go together,”
“It isn’t that bad,” Dacian said dismissively, “Can we leave?”
“Not without Mabon,” Reagan said, “Mother will have our hides if we leave the castle grounds without him,”
Mabon was Reagan and Dacian’s older brother. At fifteen, he was just barely trusted to mind the younger children out in the city. Asthore was only thankful that it had not been Jamin that was minding them. The sixteen-year-old was highly unpleasant and was the only one of Reagan and Dacian’s siblings that she disliked.
“Where is Mabon?” asked Duff, “He promised he’d be here,”