@reinsofhistory . starter
Aranea had been shopping for groceries when a small boy went past her, running wildly and proclaiming the fall of the Kingdom of Nabradia. He shouted the news while handing over freshly printed newspapers for some gil, quickly accumulating a small crowd around him formed by all sorts of patrons interested in the recent developments of the war. As judge magister, she was often made privy to information the general population could only dream of; but the high-pitched voice of the boy disturbed her when he mentioned ‘Judge Zecht presumed dead in the wake of a huge explosion!’ Her bags almost hit the ground of the Rienna district; not only because of the unexpected news within such a short time frame since the beginning of the Archadian invasion - but because she knew Zecht. A good judge, a good man and his death was untimely. But when the pictures and the first reports came in, Aranea began to understand that maybe, just maybe, it was a good thing to know Zecht wasn’t alive to see just what the capital city of the neighboring country had been turned into. A necrohol, they called it - mist so dense and beasts so deadly that no life was ever expected there again. It hadn’t been an attack - it had been outright slaughter. Thinking back to all the laws she had studied on modern warfare, Aranea couldn’t find any justification for such a drastic measure, even with the Rozarrian threat looming on the horizon. The dragoon barely ate or slept for the next days, and the unsettling feeling running in her blood hardly diminished when the invitation to a ball to commemorate Archadia’s latest conquest in the veiled war against Rozarria came. Aranea wasn’t overly fond of these theatrics - despite the noble origins of the house Highwind, their disgrace and fall into poverty had turned her into some kind of outcast for the very traditional and elitist high society of the imperial city. The smiles were pleasant, but they concealed poisonous tactics and ill-intentioned actions towards her career and success… And the judge had little patience to entertain frivolous and condescending noblemen. But as judge magister, she was required to attend, even if not on duty. And as such, Aranea found herself a week later at the Archadian Palace, decked in a beautiful long, red dress. As the second female to be accepted in that position, she was subject to much greater scrutiny than Drace, and thus made an effort to look impeccable at all public functions. The dress had been made by a renowned seamstress from the Molberry district. It covered her from the neck to her toes in bright, blood red, accentuating her curvacious body while leaving room for her legs to move; but the dress also covered her back in a fashion that imitated a cape, with openings for her arms and tasteful embroidery work on the shoulders, creating an illusion of a single piece. It made Aranea look regal with her her braided to the side and light make-up, a sheer contrast to her daily working clothes under the heavy armor that she used while on duty. But despite all elegance, Aranea felt trapped in that dress and in the palace. The dragoon then sought the bar, picking up a glass of wine to take off the edge of her senses and help her smiles flow.
