The Key to Finding
Zan Silvermoon the NoblemanIt was an extremely painful awhile before Zan was finally out of the clothes shop. He groaned as he pulled on the itchy white commoner's shirt. The blue vest and brown trousers weren't helping either. Luckily, the mercenary let him keep his boots, before ruffling his hair and running out of the shop, laughing at his discomfort.
Now, he was finally back out in the main square, wondering where in the Realm was that reckless mercenary. He walked his way back to the horses when he felt a small tug on his leg. He looked down and behind. A young boy with wild white hair and midnight blue eyes grinned at him as he gleefully cried out, “Zan!”
The boy nodded. Zan blinked a few times. The boy was wearing an exact replica of Zan's, except unlike Zan, Xandelar looked like royalty. Zan was pulled out of his reverie by a shrill voice of panic. He ran a hand through his silky black hair, now starting to roughen, thanks to that reckless mercenary.
A young woman clad in a periwinkle and lavender dress scurried around the crowds. Her braided auburn hair billowed around her and her green eyes, usually clear, were now clouded with worry as her hands cupped her mouth, shouting the boy's name. Zan sighed. No matter how different that woman dressed or styled herself in, he was never going to not recognize the caretaker.
“Mericenne!”, Zan shouted to the caretaker, as he waved a hand and hoisted Xandelar, the boy's right here!”
Mericenne located the two and upon spotting Xandelar, her eyes were full of relief as she dashed right over, plucked the boy right out of Zan's arms, and hugged him to death. Forgetting all about the nobleman's presence, the caretaker gently scolded the young boy while planting sweet kisses on the young boy's forehead. Zan rolled his eyes before setting his eyes back around the villagers.
Where was that mercenary? Didn't he just told her not to take so long?
As if she knew what he was thinking, an excited voice had the nobleman whirl around.
“Someone looking for me?”
Zan was about to give an angry retort of Yes, where in the Realm were you?!, when he took one look at her and suddenly stopped and stared.
Zan didn't know how to describe her, but there was something about Dacia Willowhaven that made her utterly...well, different. The mercenary was clothed in a pale orange and yellow dress, her dark hair sweeping behind, and her fire-colored eyes gazed intensely into his mud brown ones. But it wasn't her dress that surprised him. Nor her eyes or that wickedly smooth smile of hers. No, it was her..
“Your hair! You've straightened it!”, cried Mericenne. Dacia shot the caretaker a sheepish smile. Zan took a double take on the mercenary's hair. The caretaker was right. What used to be curled ringlets and frizzy strands were now altered; in their place were shiny silky dark waves. Xandelar clapped gleefully, saying, “Dacia looks pretty!” as the mercenary took him into her arms. Dacia smiled and ruffled the boy's hair, never noticing the nobleman's stare.