The sun was setting, darkening the sky as the full moon slowly emerged from the clouds. Soon, the time would be ripe for the trial of the Fated Mates, and the preparations were well under way.
Miell was sitting on a bench beside Nyell, peering at him from the corner of his eyes. The man had changed clothes in the evening and was now dressed in a traditional outfit of the White Moon tribe. The white robes, embroidered with sea creatures in golden threads, were strapped around his waist tightly, although the upper part fell loosely on his shoulders, revealing the black high neck tank top he wore underneath and a small patch of caramel skin. A complicated hairstyle, adorned with jewelry, crowned his head, enhancing his sharp facial features. Once dressed up, Nyell looked like a war deity, or so Miell thought.
As much as Miell was mesmerized by Nyell's appearance, he was also oppressed by the imposing aura surrounding him. It was strange how a simple change of attire could overthrow his impression of the man and incite awe in his heart, even more than when he learned his identity. Miell was sure he wasn't and wouldn't be the only one feeling that way today. But for now, that wasn't important. They might not have more chances to chat in private later on, so it was better to wipe the mesmerizing look off his face and start talking.
"Are you seriously pouting…?" Miell eventually managed to ask, his mouth twitching ever-so-lightly. "When you play bait, you have to be patient. You can't expect the prey to fall for your trap right away! It can take time!"
"I know!" Nyell clicked his tongue. "It's just that I've been parading for almost two days in the town with you, and no one suspicious tried to approach us. They've been watching us from afar! These goddamn cowards."
While Allen handled the elders, Nyell had been on a sightseeing tour with Miell all day yesterday and today until late afternoon. He was purposely acting open and oblivious, and yet, much to his displeasure, they all stayed at a safe distance while observing his every move. In a way, it felt like he failed, almost as if he wasn't tempting enough. It hurt his pride! He thought it'd be easy to bait them. Turns out it wasn't.
And today, to boot, Nyell had to cut short his trip because of the trial, which annoyed the hell out of him. The many layers of robes Myrven helped him put on were also bothersome, making him feel itchy, and he just wanted to pull the darn jewelry out of his hair. His neck was feeling the weight, and so were his shoulders. Of course, he tried to escape the traditional clothing, pleading and cursing when it didn't work, but Myrven remained unmoving. He had to wear them as the trial would take place in front of the whole tribe in the plaza. A traditional outfit would help sway people's opinion in his favor, especially since it fitted Nyell so well. Appearances weren't everything, but they did a lot.
"Don't be too discouraged," Miell comforted, nibbling on a slice of jerky. "They might be waiting for the trial's result first before acting. At least, that's what I'd hypothetically do. Depending on whether you're recognized as the chief's fated mate or not, my approach would change. It's called being careful."
Nyell responded with a snort, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath. Since he had been in Miell's company for two days straight, they had grown closer. The beastman was overly friendly and easy to talk to. He knew when to speak and when to keep his mouth shut. His awareness was so high it sometimes left Nyell speechless, just like when Allen pretty much forced him into being his guide. It took Miell but a split second to understand what Allen and Nyell were plotting, given the few hints their conversation provided and the previous information he had gathered. His facility at reading between the lines might also have been due to a long decade of exchanges between his crew and the Lord of the White Moon land.
From what Nyell had gathered from Miell, Allen seemed particularly close to this merchant crew, enough to trust their captain as an informant and assign their members sensitive tasks, like playing bait. Allen, like the elders, also had his own men. He didn't only rely on ghosts.
"Honestly," Nyell sighed, resisting the urge to run a hand in his hair, "I'm pretty sure some of them don't want me to go through the trial of the Fated Mates, y'know? I was so sure a few fools would try to get rid of me beforehand… My presence is screwing up their plans! Where's my fun now?!"
"And I'm telling you to be patient!" Miell rolled his eyes. "There are boundaries that even the elders will hesitate to cross. No one has truly seen Allen angered before, but there's a saying passing among the White Moon tribe: as long as our chief remains calm, then the sea and the sky will remain tranquil, but if there comes a day his fury erupts, the sea will ravage the land and the sky will thunder lightning. Beware of his wrath, for it lasts centuries."
At Miell's purposely sinister tone, Nyell almost choked on a stifled laugh. What a ridiculous adage. Still, these kinds of cryptic sayings usually originated from somewhere, and his curiosity was piqued. He leaned toward Miell and, with a tone of childish conspiracy, he asked:
"What kind of disaster one of the previous chiefs caused for his successors to still shoulder the weight of it in this day and age?"
"One hell of a kind, actually," a languid voice resounded, drawing Nyell's attention to his right, where Allen seemed to have appeared out of thin air. "According to the archives, one of my predecessors almost wiped out the whole tribe in anger once, flattening the mountain peaks at the shore into the cliffs we see today. It left a deep scar in our tribe's history and collective memory, especially since it wasn't the only instance. Whenever a chief lost it in the past, everyone paid the price. Not many remember why they went into a rampage: they only remember the result."
Nyell barely listened to whatever was coming out of the shaman's mouth, his mind focused on something else entirely. During the day, he hadn't had the chance to meet Allen after they went their separate way in the morning. Thus, Nyell had yet to see him in his traditional outfit, for Myrven had taken him aside to dress him. He might not want to admit it, but he was left astonished by the sight. If he looked like a war deity, then the shaman looked like a goddess. Delicate makeup enhanced his androgynous facial features, while his hair was intricately styled and adorned with jewelry, much like Nyell's. However, in Allen's case, the hairstyle made him appear frailer and somewhat meek, if not gentle and soft-hearted. The small rubies of the jewelry glinted under the faint moonlight amid the blueish-silver hues of his hair, drawing the eyes. It was entrancing.
"Are you alright?" Allen's concerned voice snapped Nyell out of his daze, and he coughed lightly to hide his embarrassment. Shouldn't he be used to the man's ethereal beauty by now? Granted, it wasn't usually this flagrant as the shaman tended to wear plain white robes and a not-very-neat hairstyle, but still…!
"It's nothing," Nyell waved his hand as if that would chase away Allen's concerns. "What were you saying?"
"Nothing important, just some boring historic stuff."
Miell, who had turned into a third wheel, seemed to want to ask something about the said boring historic stuff, but ultimately didn't. Instead, he reminded them of his existence with a raised hand and smile, saying:
"I think it's time for me to join the crowd. The trial is about to start, and if I stay any longer, I fear I'll get into trouble." Miell paused to let out a scoff and mumbled through pursed lips, "Although it doesn't matter as I've already painted a target on my back. If something happens to me, you better send a shitload of money to my family, Allen."
"Of course. If the worst were to happen, I'd provide for everything your siblings might need. You have my word. "
"Alright, see you later, Nyell!" Miell mischievously smirked before leaving a butterfly-like kiss on his cheek, stunning Nyell. Allen could only squint his eyes, resisting the urge to chuckle. Miell had taken his role as bait to heart, it seemed. What a hardworking lad.
"Why did he do that…?" Nyell stared at Allen with a dumbfounded look. In his tribe, that would be an invitation to spend the night together!
"Oh, it's a goodbye greeting from where he comes," Allen explained with a discreet wink. "But he mostly did it to put on a show. You're not the only bait anymore."
"Ah… Right."
Currently, they were on a terrace that oversaw the plaza. At this time of the day, it was usually bustling with life, laughter, and chatter, but it was not the case today. It had been put off limits for the trial, reserved for Allen and his fated mate. Miell managed to come in only because he had been with Nyell, acting as his guide. Even then, the elders' cronies hadn't been too keen on letting him in. Unfortunately for them, they had been too taken aback by Nyell's imposing aura to form coherent thoughts and only realized their blunder once it was too late.
On the bright side, the terrace was located in a central position, which allowed onlookers to peek at the people sitting on the benches. With so many eyes on him, Miell couldn't do anything deemed improper. All he could do was chat with Nyell as he waited for his fated mate to arrive. They could allow that much, even if the distance made it impossible to hear what they were discussing about. The noisy crowd also didn't help. People had gathered as early as dinner time to get a good vantage point, and the guards had a hunch that most of the town and foreigners currently docked at the harbor were present. They couldn't even see the end of the crowd despite the high ground. As the plaza opened on the harbor, many stood on the docks, and some merchant crews allowed people to sit on the rail of their ships. It was an animated sight rarely seen in the White Moon land. Even festivals weren't this bustling.
That said, Miell's display of friendly affection was seen by the vast majority of the town. If the target on his back hadn't been clear enough, now it certainly was. If need be, he was the perfect bait to lure Nyell. Or so some people thought.