(I judge posts on content, not length. Great job so far Rydia. ^.^)

~Cecil~

It took too long for Cecil to wade through all the requests and other "official" business of Baron. Once the final statesman had left, Cecil more or less fell into his throne, praying that a headache wasn't forthcoming. As much as the king wanted to stay there and relax, there was still much more to be done. King Giott would be arriving tomorrow, and his preferred drink was hard to come by on the surface. Thankfully his normal duties were being handled by his advisers due to the upcoming festival, so he slipped out of the throne room and began making his way through the many twists and turns of his castle in search of Cid's loyal engineers, who somehow had a knack for finding just about any drink needed.

Turning a corner a sentry stopped him, almost bumping into the king in the process.

"My liege, we just received a report that one of your honored guests has arrived early." he said, obviously somewhat nervous speaking to the king. Cecil couldn't help but smirk slightly at the guard, his news being the first good word he had heard since waking.

"Ah, King Edge no doubt. Tell him that I shall meet with him shortly, there is a slight matter I must attend to first." He replied, patting the sentry on the shoulder.

"No m'lord, it's Lady Rydia." He said, his voice betraying his nervousness at having to correct the king. Cecil, upon hearing this, did a double take. It had been years since she had come to the festival, despite being invited every time. Quickly deciding that the matter of ale was something that could wait, he bolted back through the door he came, leaving the guard standing there bewildered. Despite all they had been through, he still harbored feelings of guilt in regards to her mother. He feared that was the reason she hadn't shown up during the last festival, and he was eager to greet the powerful mage.

~Tilanya~

As soon as the mist had evaporated, the elderly summoner was already on her chosen steed crossing the wide expanse of baronian fields, the castle looming in the distance. Tilanya was one of few people who could ride a white chocobo, which she proudly sat atop watching the trees and brush fly by. Normal yellow chocobos were faster, but she wasn't concerned with speed, image was the thing she sought. She spied a small band of imps slightly off the path, debating on whether they should live or die. They were no threat to her, or any adventurer of somewhat able skill, but they were great target practice. At the last moment, she chose mercy upon them, feeling that her power should be saved for what might come in the near future. Onward she rode, her mind as active as the mount she rode.

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Death is no reason to stop living