A warm but breezy morning in Illian.

The Wheel of Time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legends fade to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the third age by some, an Age yet to come, an age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

East and south the wind blew, over the thick woods of Ghealdan and into the plains of Amadicia. Carrying with it the moisture of Arinelle, further south the wind blew, clashing with the salty sea breeze over Illian.

Illian. The land of tradition. A place where myths and legends turn to rituals and ceremony. The wind blew across the narrow winding streets and the famous canals of Illian, the city. It blew into the Scented Quarter, accumulating the collective scents of the perfumes on sale. It blew into a stately courtyard in the middle of a large mansion, swirling around the marble fountain.

The wind caught Lord Haron’s silk cloak and ruffled it slightly as he walked along the sumptuous corridor of his mansion, feeling completely in control. His boots echoed richly from the vaulted ceiling several feet above. Behind him, two of his guards followed. They were too far to be of any actual use. But the mere idea of someone deciding to attack Lord Councillor Haron Gregoras in his mansion was laughable.

He really wanted to laugh with joy, but that would be not very becoming of a respected councillor. He wanted to go back to his chambers and laugh till he cried, for today was going to be the culmination of ten years’ work. He wanted to step out on the balcony and throw coins and jewels out on the street, like the mad kings of yore.

It all started with the Whitecloak War, when the Children of the Light decided that they wanted their border with Altara readjusted. Illian rode out in defence of Altara, with its king Mattin Stepaneos den Balgar at the head. They won some victories, but were ultimately humiliated in the Battle of Soremaine, the lowest point in Illian’s history. The king was held for ransom! The shame! That event made Lord Haron’s decision for him. That decision had brought him here, to today.

In a short time, he would step on to the stage on Tammaz Square. In a short time, he was going to make history by reinstating the Great Hunt and swearing in hundreds of Hunters. The very best gleemen and bards were in the Square, juggling and singing and dancing and eating fire. Ogier from as far as stedding Shangtai had already arrived in the city to witness and chronicle the great event. And the best part was, the king was sulking in his castle. It would be Lord Councillor Haron Gregoras, not King Mattin Stepaneos, who was going to officiate the Hunt.

Lord Haron entered the east wing of his house - the one where the guests stayed - and addressed a curtsying servant. “Have Lord Torin’s horse saddled,” he told him. “He will want to ride with me to the Square.”

He liked Lord Torin. The fact that the man was a Tairen had already set many tongues wagging. Lord Haron’s Tairen connections were already a source of contention between Mattin Stepaneos and him, but the presence of an actual Tairen lord was making mountains out of molehills everywhere. They said the Cairhienin were skilled in the Game of Houses, but Illianers were no less. Despite Lord Torin’s presence having its political uses, Haron really enjoyed the man’s company. Pomposity was a sign of most nobles, but Lord Torin was also a sincere man.

Haron stopped outside Torin’s room and a servant knocked on the door for him. “Lord Haron, come to see the Lord Torin,” the servant announced.

Haron hoped Torin was ready to go. He wanted to be late, but not too late that the other councillors would start muttering. He also wanted to ride slowly through the streets, to bask in the excitement. Normal life was temporarily stopped for festivities and a festive Illian is truly a sight to behold.

You have two posts to make your way to the Tammaz Square, should you choose to.

It wasn’t clear what roused Alyna out of her heavenly slumber, but the pain radiating from her legs seemed to be what kept her from falling back asleep. Riding all day was definitely taking its toll on the petite woman. The Aes Sedai groaned softly, pushing the sheet off of her, and swinging her legs around to hang off the bed. She sat up slowly, taking in the room she had settled into last night. Now that it was lit by more than just moonlight it was easier to see why the innkeeper had charged so little. A sigh almost escaped her lips, but it caught in her throat when she noticed Saloul’s sleeping form. She gingerly stood up, peering at him while creeping forward. A cool breeze brushed against Alyna’s bare legs, but she pressed on. Every night they’d been together Saloul had woken up before her, making sure to take care of any chores they needed completed. At first it had made her slightly annoyed, but she had grown accustomed to his chivalrous attitude.

A few creaking floorboards almost gave Alyna away, but Saloul seemed to be asleep when she set herself down on the edge of his bed. She had insisted on a room with two beds, but now she wondered how he felt about that decision. They were Warder and Aes Sedai now, a closer bond than any star struck lovers, yet the still slept in separate beds. Is that what Saloul wanted? If Alyna was being honest with herself she didn’t even know if that’s what she wanted. He hadn’t seem disappointed when she requested two cots, but even with the bond he was occasionally unreadable.

The Aes Sedai looked at his face curiously, not used to seeing him in such a neutral or helpless state. Alyna noticed how tightly her hand was gripping Saloul’s sheet, and she let out a breath as she released her grip. Her eyes once again shifted to his face, following the strong line of his cheek bone to his sun kissed chin. A bit of panic rose up in her chest as she glanced behind her at the light filtering through the shades. She turned back to Saloul, putting her hands on his shoulders, and shaking him gently to wake him up. At the first sign of wakefulness Alyna stood up, and moved to get the dress she would be wearing that day out of the saddlebag leaning against her bed.

“We’ve got to get ready,” Alyna said firmly, before walking to the other side of the room. She slipped off her night gown’s straps and let it fall to the ground. She was still decently clothed in heavy undergarments, and as such didn’t feel embarrassed by Saloul seeing her in such a state. The Aes Sedai slipped the royal purple dress over her head quickly, straightening it out as it settled on her body. She moved back to the other side of the bed, and kneeled down to search through her saddle bag.

Saloul woke to hands on his shoulders and one hand would've reached for a knife and the other for the offending limb, but even in his state of waking up he could sense it was just Alyna, furthermore that there was no urgency. Subsequently his eyes flickered open in acknowledgement of her request, only to close themselves just as fast at seeing her apparel as she walked away to dress herself. For some reason he'd expected her to be clothed. Though he doubted she minded it overly, it was hard to tell with Aes Sedai, despite the fact that he was used to reading people and having the warder bond. Saloul wondered if she cared that the most common word that came to mind when describing her was usually either 'cute' or 'adorable'. He mildly berated himself for his tardiness in waking up, prior to this he'd managed to successfully beat his Aes Sedi to the realm of the waking nearly every day. To be honest for the most part he'd more served the role of a butler than a warder but he didn't mind. After all he knew what he signed up for when he was bonded by an Aes Sedi of the Gray Ajah. At least she wasn't getting annoyed at him for it anymore.

As Alyna rummaged in her saddlebag Saloul also quickly dressed himself, throwing on his rather generic gray and brown clothes, his weapons and finally the distinctive warder fancloak on top that covered most of it. The hilt of his claymore poked just above it, though the rows of knives underneath were more subtle. His cropped brown hair needed no attendance and his slow facial hair growth ensured the same for his face. Now that they were both dressed Saloul bowed briefly to her, "Well Alyna, what are our plans for the day?" He asked respectfully. Calling her Alyna seemed terribly informal but she had insisted on it. Her dress was the usual purple that blended surprisingly pleasantly with her red hair. As if her face and Saloul's presence wasn't enough to indicate that she was Aes Sedai the expensive purples she favored made it yet more evident.

Flickering images. Waterfalls, forests filled with game, a great city state towering over the vastness of nature. Crowds and groups speaking and roaring just outside the city gates as they entered, and hardy travelers filtering in across the forest paths. Raurfen shook his head, shaking the messages his Wolf brethren were sending him of Illian out of his mind. They were welcomed though, for he felt as if he stood in the belly of the beast here in this courtyard, awaiting this Lord Haron to announce the Great Hunt once more.

The very name was appealing to Raurfen, despite himself. It caused his mouth to water, and he idly began chewing on some of the jerky he had brought with him. He sent images back to Padfoot, Greatfang and Roughhair. These were images of many men and women of all sorts and classes mingling and cheering, dancing and merry making. Great processions filed past him, and a buxom woman with a blue dress and little neckline to speak of eyed him with piqued interest.

Raurfen himself stood at the edge of the crowd, leaning against the wall of a two story building as a wiry mystery to those around him. His hood was over his head to conceal the eyes that had labeled him a Darkfriend a scant few years previous. He waved to the woman politely, but did not attempt to speak or lower his hood. He once more he questioned why he was here, but he knew that answer to that. This hunt gave him a sense of adventure and excitement, and of course... it helped him feel more human.

Torin was examining himself in the big mirror adorning his room when the servant announced his host’s arrival. Instead of hurrying to the door immediately, the young lord allowed himself another moment to gaze upon his reflection. Truly, the washers in Lord Haron’s service knew their stuff. His crimson doublet was meticulously cleaned and ironed, fitting his form perfectly and even the shirt underneath had regained its pristine whiteness as if it had never been soiled by his time on the road.

“Tell Lord Haron that I will be with him momentarily.” he told the servant before turning to regard Nalin, who was busying himself with some of Torin’s other freshly cleaned clothes.

As much as he chafed under the servants his mother had saddled him with, there was no denying that Nalin was a very useful man to have around. He was erudite, well-spoken and deft, possessing that all-important servant quality of being readily available and inconspicuous at the same time.

“My lord, will you be wearing Lord Haron’s cloak today or shall I bring out one of your own?” Nalin asked, anticipating the question Torin was about to ask.

That was another thing Nalin was good at. Like any competent and experienced manservant, he was always a step ahead of his lord’s wishes and seemed to know just what Torin needed at any given moment. It was a rare thing indeed for Torin to ever order anything mundane overtly as Nalin had usually taken care of it already.

“The one Lord Haron so generously gifted, of course,“ Torin replied, “it will be seen as an insult to our host otherwise.”

Nalin went to the sleeping chamber and returned a moment later with the cloak in hand, which he fastened around Torin’s shoulders with a golden clasp in the shape of an olive branch curled around a sword – the sigil of House Somares. The cloak itself was of the finest silk, dyed a deep black that matched the shade of his boots and breeches perfectly. Golden thread adorned its edges, in the same hue as the embroidery along his doublet. In this, as in all things, Lord Haron’s taste was exquisite.

Torin nodded at his reflection, while Nalin was bringing him his blade. The serving man offered to help with the sword belt, but Torin waved him away. Clothes were one thing, but a swordsman should be responsible for his own weapon. With the belt’s buckles adjusted, he cast one last glance at the mirror and issued some parting instructions.

“Nalin, head down to the docks and ask around for news from Tear, I want to hear what’s been happening in my absence.” In truth, he was only interested in news pertaining to House Somares rather than Tear itself, but there was no need to clarify that unspoken fact. “Oh, and take Rosario with you. I hear he’s grown fond of gambling his coin away with Lord Haron’s soldiers and that reflects poorly on me.”

“My lord,“ Nalin began carefully, “would it not be more prudent for Rosario to accompany you on your trip to the Tammaz Square?”

“We are in the house of my cousin and friend, who just so happens to be one of the most powerful men in Illian. My safety is doubtlessly assured and I need not cast doubt on that by bringing my bodyguard along, don’t you agree?” It wasn’t a question and he expected no answer, so he continued. “Finally, see if you can’t find someone to mend the green doublet, I tore it while practicing my forms yesterday.”

The request left a sour taste in Torin’s mouth. There was a time when he would simply have ordered a new one, but these days his coin purse was tighter than it used to be.

“Of course, my lord. I have already spoken with one of Lord Haron’s seamstresses, I shall bring it to her shortly.”

With that out of the way, Torin headed to the door beyond which his cousin and host was waiting. There was a slight hesitation in his movements, revealing the inner confusion which had gripped him for the past few days. He still didn’t know exactly what Lord Haron wanted with him. The two of them were bound my blood, though not through immediate relatives; Torin vaguely recalled a mention of a great-aunt marrying an Illianer in the family records, but it was not a matter he had ever taken an interest in.

Thus, when he had received an invitation to Lord Haron’s estate, he had thought his cousin to be nothing more than a bored bureaucrat, eager for some juicy gossip from Tear. Torin had been naturally cautious, it was a known fact that Illianers were deceitful knaves and bastards for the most part, but he had decided to entertain the man’s request. Of course, the sight of the lavish mansion and the meeting with Lord Haron himself dispelled that notion completely. He should have asked Nalin, he was surprisingly knowledgeable of such things. Maybe then he would have realised that his cousin was the most powerful man in the city, save perhaps for the King himself.

Whatever the case, here he was – an honoured guest. Despite his busy schedule, Lord Haron found time to call upon him each day and, he grudgingly had to admit, Torin found him to be enjoyable company. The current head of House Gregoras was an energetic man, despite the grey in his hair he possessed the vigour to rival a youth. From what Torin had learned that was due to Haron’s tenure with the Whitecloaks, during which he had earned the title of Blademaster, a title which Torin had long dreamed of attaining.

He willed himself to focus on the present. He was here now and that’s all that mattered. People like Lord Haron seldom did something if it did not benefit them, so he was certain that being kept here offered some sort of advantage to his host, however small or irrelevant it was. Torin had politely, but firmly steered his conversations with Lord Haron away from politics, insisting that the sole reason for coming to Illian was the Great Hunt. And now that the day of the Hunt had finally come, there was no need to sour one’s mood with such grim thoughts.

Torin opened the door and stepped into the hallway, where he inclined his head in respect.

“Lord Haron, greetings! I trust I did not keep you waiting too long?”

"Not too long for a friend," Haron responded, clasping Lord Torin on his upper arm. The man looked quite regal in the black and gold cloak that he himself had gifted. The sight pleased Haron. Lord Torin was increasingly becoming a trusted ally. "Come. We should be on our way and I wouldn't want you to miss seeing Illian in all her glory."

The two of them started walking down the corridor towards the north wing, followed by Haron's bodyguards. Haron noticed that Lord Torin was not accompanied by his manservant or his bodyguard, and felt quite pleased. The other councillors would see a lonely but regal Tairen lord at his side and wonder. The few Tairen nobles in Illian would hear of it too. Was Lord Haron propping up a new High Lord of Tear, they would ask. Or was he after something more? Could there be an Illianer-Tairen alliance? That would make Mayene and Altara tremble and might even give the Queen of Andor a bad day. Haron smiled.

At the end of the corridor, it opened to the Viewing Room. There, his honor guard stood waiting. And his wife, the Lady Elise, resplendent in her morning blue gown and a towering hair intertwined with tiny pearls. She wore a high neck and her face wore the usual cool haughtiness.

"Husband," she said in way of greeting. "Lord Torin." She inclined her head in formality.

"My Lady Wife," Haron said, offering his hand to her. "I am happy you will be accompanying us to the Square."

"It do be an honour," she replied without emotion, taking his hand lightly. The honour guard snapped to attention right on cue, spreading out behind them and Lord Torin. They all wore the sigil of House Gregoras - a seagull with a sword - on their cloaks. Quickly, the party made its way outside the mansion.

A crowd had already gathered outside the mansion. As they mounted their horses, the people started cheering. "Lord Haron and House Gregoras!" they shouted. "Illian and the Great Hunt!" they cried. Lord Haron raised his palm in humble acknowledgement, inclining his head to the crowd. His bannerman rode out in front, clearing a path through the crowd.

Illian was ablaze with colours and excitement. Altara had its festival of birds, but the Illianers really knew the art of revelry. Wine flowed freely and not just in the taverns. The commoners were decked in colours that would make a Tinker blush. Music from a hundred different zithers and lutes mingled to create a cacophony that was not quite music but pleasing just the same.

"Witness Illian with her hair down, cousin," he said to Lord Torin over the rising noise as they moved through the Scented Quarter. The smell of the perfumes was particularly strong as the shopkeepers were perhaps breaking them open for the festivities. The strong smell of roses and white flower sent a tingle up his nose.

Within moments, they were within sight of the Square of Tammaz. The hundred marble pillars bordering the plaza shone in the sun like silver. As they neared the square, the noise gave way to the sound of cheers and laughter. Bards and gleemen were enthralling the people with their lavish stories of heroism and magic. Sasara dancers from Saldaea were making hearts beat faster with their seductive moves. Nobles from different nations rubbed shoulders with adventuring commoners come from as far away as Shienar. Haron's guards flowed around him, creating a wide path to the raised platform where the other councilors were standing in wait, their smiles in place. "Lord Haron and the Council!" rose a cry from the crowd.

"The Square of Tammaz," he said in an awed tone to Lord Torin. "Built by King Wilem Tammaz den Bagin nearly a hundred years ago. Of course, it was the Council's idea to have the square extended in the first place. You see, cousin Torin, the best ideas in Illian have always come from the Council."

"Care to dance?" the woman asked him. She had been stalking him like his wolf-sisters often stalked deer in the wilds beyond, and he felt the hairs on his neck raise a bit every time he took notice of it. It made him uncomfortable, even if his more human, yet ironically natural, instincts told him she would be a fine mate for the night.

"No, thank you. I'm waiting for someone, and it would not do to shy from this spot." he told her, giving a polite smile. He tried not to show his teeth.

"Then I shall keep you company." she purred, sashaying over to him. Behind her, a gleeman twirled and juggled 13 mutli-colored balls of yarn as he simultaneously regailed passersby of the tale of Birgitte Silverbow and Gaidal Cain. Raufen was aware of almost all that transpired within the square due to his unnatural senses. The lavender aroma this woman carried next to him was nearly overwhelming.

"Your are no' from here," she mused, her Illian accent showing. He shook his head, instinct warring with his better judgement as he tried not to scoot closer toward her. It was odd, to be so repelled yet intrigued all at once.

She suddenly gasped, and pointed at the balcony above the courtyard. "Look!" she exclaimed, her eyes glinting as she glance to Raufen. "The Lord Haron!" The crowd cheered and the festivities heightened. He lifted his hood ever so slightly, his fierce gaze set upon the three High born that now presented themselves before the crown. He guessed they were here to make the big announcement. He could not wait to be out in the wilds once more once this announcement was over with. It felt far too crowded in here.

The woman next to him saw him raise his hood slightly, and she tilted her head as she watched him. "Such eyes..."

He wasn't sure if she was fascinated or wary, at least yet.

Alyna found what she was looking for, and stood up slowly. She set her shoes down softly on the floor, and set the coin purse she had been searching for beside it. The Aes Sedai slipped into her shoes, and offered the coin purse to Saloul. “Our plans is to witness Lord Gregoras. We need to find out what he has planned. We might even take the Hunter’s Oath,” She said quickly, walking over to the letter she had left on the desk. She folded it a couple times, and walked back over to the saddlebag to place it inside. She suddenly hesitated, before handing it to Saloul.

“Burn it. We’ll be sleeping here again tonight, so I’ll leave my saddlebag. Not much in there that is worth stealing I’m sure,” She said, taking care to keep her eyes off of his. The woman patiently waited for him to complete the task. Alyna gracefully moved to the door, opening it at a measured pace before proceeding into the hall. “I’ll lead the way, stay close,” She said quietly, not remembering if he had been to Illian before. She had not, but she had done her best to memorize a map she had received, and at the very least wouldn’t get lost on her way to the square.

The pair’s footsteps sounded down the hallway, as they quickly exited the inn. Alyna took the lead as promised, making sure that Saloul was never more than a step behind, if even that. After a short walk, the Warder and Aes Sedai arrived at the square, just as Lord Haron appeared. Alyna had a hard time seeing above the crowd, though she scanned those surrounding them suspiciously.

Illian was a beautiful city. It was a fact Torin was forced to admit to himself, as much as his Tairen blood rebelled against the notion. The roads were paved and most of the buildings were made of stone; graceful bridges arched over the many canals, which were teeming with boats of various shapes and sizes. For such a huge city it looked so clean, nothing at all like the muddy, fetid streets that crisscrossed Tear. It was colourful and lively at all times, but now that the celebrations surrounding the Great Hunt had begun it was an awe-inspiring sight.

Astride his black courser, he had a good view of the festivities stretching along the richly adorned streets. All around him men and women, wearing clothes each more garishly coloured than the next, were making marry, laughing and shouting as they soaked themselves in wine. The sea of voices was joined by the symphony of a thousand different lutes, flutes and Light knew what else, creating an overpowering din that drowned out individual sources of sound.

Such a vigorous display of life and vibrancy could not be passed by without some comment, Torin thought, lest his hosts think he was too petty to admit it. Thus, he allowed himself to show a measure of the astonishment he genuinely felt, remarking to Lord Haron and his wife that the stories surrounding Illian’s glory did it no justice.

Torin kept quiet for the most part, preferring to soak in the sights and sounds, while Lord Haron told him the local history or pointed out a building of interest. He felt a pang of regret for not allowing Rosario and Nalin to attend this great celebration by sending them to the docks, but on the other hand, the festival had probably reached there as well; commoners and dock-hands in particular liked nothing more than an occasion to drink themselves blind.

Lord Haron was pleasant company, not only because he was an erudite, entertaining speaker, but because in everything he did there was a sense of purpose and he made no effort to conceal that. Torin admired such strength, though it was also somewhat frightening and he was not deaf to the rumours surrounding his cousin. Still, that did not stop Torin from speaking his mind in his usual blunt manner. Even if his host should take offense, what of it? He had nothing left to lose apart from his life and it was not worth much these days.

However, contrary to Torin’s initial expectations, the Illianer councillor didn’t mind his bold words, he seemed to enjoy them in fact. Men as powerful as Lord Haron always attracted flunkies and hangers-on, all too content to repeat their master’s words and embrace his ideas, giving no voice to their own. Perhaps Torin’s bluntness served as a nice reprieve from that.

They made their way through the packed Square and up the raised platform, where the other dignitaries were already waiting. Waiting on Lord Haron, to be precise, Torin noted. From such a vantage point, it was easy to take in the entire Square in all its splendour. If he had thought that the city was loud before, it was absolutely deafening here, at the centre of it all. For a man who had spent the majority of his life in olive groves and quiet coastal towns, it was an almost overwhelming experience.

“My mother always said that the Council’s guidance gave Illian the edge it needed to compete with us and seeing the magnificence of the Square, I’m inclined to agree.” He replied, turning towards Lord Haron and raising his voice over the thunderous crowd. “There is wisdom in a display of wealth and prestige such as this, as there is wisdom in calling a Great Hunt so soon after a horrid affair such as the Aiel War so that we might turn our thoughts to happier things. And while it is no Stone of Tear, dear cousin, I admit that this sight will stay with me for the rest of my days” Torin finished with a smile.