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the fae do love their games
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"Why, attending the Festival of Asteron, of course! I heard the most wonderful songs about it, and decided I must see it for myself. The sights and sounds of faroff places are of great use to my Art, after all. And the festivities are simply delightful."

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"Well, they were."

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"The needs of the Empire take precedence over mere revelry. Even the likes of you ought to appreciate that. I don't suppose you'd care to assist in my efforts to perform this essential public service as quickly and efficiently as possible, given that said revelry may resume as soon as the business of the Order is concluded." 

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"My good man, why the hurry? You've no doubt had a long and exhausting journey. Why not rest your weary, erm, feet, and enjoy this wonderful opportunity while it lasts? I'd wager it would be much easier to assemble the local populace around dusk, when they gather to partake of yonder delicious-smelling roasted livestock and sundry other treats."

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"Had you bothered to attend to my conversation with Mayor Daertes, you would know that my work is quite time-sensitive, and does not afford me the luxury of waiting six hours for a shank of roasted goat. Do you, in fact, have anything useful to contribute to this situation." 

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"Evidently not." 

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"Then I will thank you to at the very least stay out of the way. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

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"Charming fellow," Lilian remarks after Aeschivus departs (having not so much as glanced at Alex). "Desperately in need of a holiday, though.

"For what it's worth, I doubt that poor man he had dragged off is in any real danger of dying. Aeschivus may be stern, but he's not murderous. It's probably just a public whipping, I'd expect."

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"That's reassuring. Do you have any idea why he's saying what he's doing is time sensitive?"

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"Noticed that, too, did you? I'm afraid I haven't the faintest notion what that's about. Although, to be fair, I suspect I ought not be saying anything even if I did." 

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"Reasonable." Alex is wondering if there's something he's supposed to be doing here, blue windows wise. A tiny part of his mind drifts back to the very first quest but he reminds himself it said he had to survive a year. Surely it wouldn't suggest such a long window if he was overwhelmingly likely to die today.

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...

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Within half an hour of Aldric's disappearance into the town, the trickle of confused townsfolk approaching the green swells into a sullen stream. Alex overhears snippets of conversation from passerby. 
"Who's that on the horse? Is that the Imperator?"
"Where's Clarisse, did you see her?" 
"Larian! Larian, there you are, do you know what's going on?"
"At least they let Jennifer look after him." 

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Alex is glad they didn't kill him.

He looks to see if he can see Jen in and among the people filtering in. Though, maybe that comment was about Jen.

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He doesn't spot Jen for a while, but she does show up among the dwindling arrival groups about an hour later. 

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It's good she's here, well probably at least. Going over to talk with her isn't going to improve anything though and he's still technically working as a festival guide. He'll see if he can catch her attention but otherwise stay put.

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Jen is looking for him too and manages to notice him and come to stand next to him. She'll explain briefly that Aldric was whipped to the point of drawing blood but that he'll be fine. She'll give him a brief hug before doing her best not to attract more attention.

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She succeeds! Well, mostly. 

After introductions have been made, Lilian is eager to chat with Alex and Jen about life in Eriksmont while they wait.

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Two or three hours after noon, it looks like most of the town has been gathered in loose rows on the green, several people deep. Guards are dispatched to knock on doors and shake out the stragglers, who are directed to form up at the end. Aeschivus mounts and starts riding across the lines row by row, leaning a bit to the right as if to better examine those he passes.

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Some tense minutes later, Aeschivus passes over Alex and Lilian. He looks to be - sniffing the air? - and his nose wrinkles as he passes Lilian. He pauses, then, reining in his horse and drawing several sharp breaths through his nose; but ultimately he shakes his head and moves on. 

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A few rows down, Aeschivus stops again, this time dismounting to approach one row more closely, flanked by a pair of guards. The line parts nervously at his approach. He leans in uncomfortably close towards a family of six, contemplating each in turn, then steps back and points to a boy of perhaps eight years old. There's a collective gasp from the crowd, and the father's hands grip the boy's shoulders tightly. 

Aeschivus pauses, and Alex is close enough to hear him say, in a surprisingly gentle voice, "The boy is blessed with the Gift of magic. If he is not taught control, he will be a danger to himself and others. The Orders of Petronus offer an illustrious career as a magus in Imperial service; at Grawtosh Academy, he will be taught to control his Gift safely, and to use it for the betterment of the Empire." This doesn't seem especially convincing to the boy's family, but Aeschivus does not wait to argue his case. He orders the family off to one side of the proceedings, then remounts and continues his progress while his guards escort the parents and children out of the line. 

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Twice more, Aeschivus stops and dismounts. The first time is by Old Hauer, a retired hedge magus who once taught young Alex meditation techniques to avoid triggering outbursts of uncontrolled magic, and loaned out some of his books. Aeschivus doesn't bother trying to recruit him, it seems; he just says something which is recorded by an attending scribe.

The second time Aeschivus stops, it's by someone else Alex recognizes: Marin, the baker's daughter from the overflow table. They're just out of earshot, but Alex catches some of the conversation when voices are raised—

"—danger to herself or others—"
"—did not raise a witch—"
—something quieter from Aeschivus, a scream from the mother, the father looking shocked and then infuriated—
"—no daughter of mine!" 

Marin is in tears by the time Aeschivus moves on. 

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After another hour, with the task nearly complete, a mounted soldier rides in from the north. Aeschivus exits the rows and rides out to confer with the rider in low voices for a time. 

Shortly thereafter, the magus rides over to talk with a different officer, then returns to scanning the rows of townsfolk. The rider gallops off to the north again. 

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Not long after that, Aeschivus completes his survey and reconvenes with his entourage, now slightly smaller than when he arrived. They head north, rather than east along the road.

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