It was a kingdom just itching to break free of its earthly chains, yearning to rise into the clouds, closer to the gods it worshipped and prayed to everyday. The desire to worship and to pray was very new, very complex to Lucian and he sat spellbound on pews wherever Bri led him to, just watching with a mad, uncontrollable fury and passion that was impossible to quell. Bri said that Lucian's fascination had little to do with the godly beings that governed the people's lives, and more to do with the people themselves. The boy was ever so spellbound by the noiseless words slipping from their parched lips, the wrinkling of their indifferent, sorrowful faces when they closed their eyes. The painful thud of their knees taking to the floor during intense prayer.
"It is a way of life," Brian whispered to him softly, as they sat observing a small gathering of people, doubled over near a lit altar at the end of a long red carpet.
"I can't understand it," Lucian whispered back, longing to break their trance and ask them all the questions that flooded into his mind. He had a sudden desire to approach one of the worshippers to see if they trembled as they murmured.
"If you try to understand, you never will," Brian had told him, as they turned quietly to leave. "Religion does not require….you to try and understand their way of life. You are a believer of their faith when you understand only by understanding in itself, in knowing,"
"I don't understand," Lucian responded, a half-smile playing upon his lips.
Everywhere that they went, Lucian felt that he was being watched, being haunted by an air of mystique that was perfumed with the scent of crisp, washed fabrics and Gregorian melodies. Indeed, even as he ventured through the streets of the regal, narrow buildings jutting upwards into the clouds, Lucian heard music. It would heighten in volume and then dissipate peacefully. He could never really pinpoint where it was coming from.
The spires and sharp points at the top of every ceremonial tower and structure made him dizzy. As he stood in the middle of the marble market walkways staring into the clouds, residents swished past him in elegant, elaborate dress comprised of simple and light contrasts. Some murmured greetings, others merely stared at him as they passed by.
Lucian loved the evenings best, when the three of them freshened up for bed. Brian had enough coins for a modest (although it was grand to him) large one-bedroom lodging in a small, sleepy inn on the outskirts of the city. Everything in the room was bright and immaculate; the smell of cleanliness overwhelmed him and he was trembling in giddiness when he slipped into bed both nights. The feel of the worn fabric of his nightgown suddenly felt rough and dirty as he slid under the heavy white sheets. The mornings were just as good when he had a chance to bathe privately in a small room stemming off from the one they slept in. There, Lucian washed himself in a marble basin (the feel of cold floor instead of grass as he cleansed, pleased him) and stared at his reflection with misgivings. His face was still soft and youthful, but he detected a barely noticeable path of stubble growing on both sides and on his chin.
The first morning, Bri took he and Erik to the morning market, a much different experience that Lucian was unfamiliar with. All around him, well-to-do people flocked in their pressed dresses and suits, and bargained for their goods. He looked in vain for someone of his stature, but to no avail.
"Why are they here?" Lucian hissed to Erik, disgusted by the pristine state of such an event.
"Because they want to be," the boy whispered back, as they strolled down the middle of the crowd, "they are hunting for goods to elevate their status and their household. They do not shop to sustain and support their family,"
"It's a waste…" Lucian sniffed, as he observed a girl and her mother selecting dresses hanging behind a tight lipped merchant.
"You don't have to sew your own clothing when you have enough money to buy the complete outfit," Erik returned, and branched off to look on his own. Lucian was left standing by himself, people milling around him. After a few moments of turning his eyes over the sea of tables, he approached one.
"How much?" he motioned to a display of colourful fabrics neatly laid out before the merchant. The woman suddenly focused on him and blinked. Forcing a smile, she said, "One silver,"
"That's ridiculous," Lucian breathed, but fished in his pocket.
"Alright, alright," she returned in a rich and unimpressed voice, folding her arms against her breast. "How much do you have?"
Lucian showed her the amount in his hands and she outwardly grimaced. After staring hard at his palm for a few moments, her face softened and she smiled again. Her fingers trailed over the fabric that Lucian was admiring and she held it out to him.
"Think of it as a gift from the Crellen people,"
Lucian shook his head. "I can pay,"
The woman responded with a refusal of her own. "I don't doubt that, but you need a memoir to commemorate your visit to my wonderful city,"
He brushed his hand over the crushed blue velvet strip and hesitated for a moment before looking at the woman merchant. She continued smirking at him, reassuringly.
"Thank you," he said lightly and carefully clutched the paper bag in which the woman placed the trinket in. She nodded politely and immediately turned to another customer.
Lucian wandered back into the street and turned his head from side to side, a bit shaken from the charity given to him. A glimmer in the pale sunlight caught his attention and his heart beat faster as he crept towards another table.
What he saw took his breath away. His heart suddenly ached for Platina.
"These would be perfect…" he said deliriously and fished into his pocket once more.