The citadel buzzed with life, people packed shoulder to shoulder as they pressed toward the heart of the festivities. Everywhere, bright banners snapped in the breeze—LONG LIVE THE KING, GLORY TO THE ROYAL KNIGHTS—plastered across every wall and archway as far as anyone could see. The air thrummed with laughter, clattering footsteps, and the sound of lively music. Fireworks burst above the citadel spires in showers of red and gold, their echoes rolling across the valley like distant thunder. Long tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, honeyed pastries, and jugs of spiced wine, offered freely to anyone with an empty plate. In the lower streets, musicians clambered onto barrels to play fast, messy tunes that sent children spinning in circles and drew even the weariest labourers into laughter. Market stalls spilled out into the roads, their owners abandoning business to dance, drink, and shout blessings to the crown.
In the midst of it all, Elara DeVoss sat sideways on her window ledge high in the Citadel, one boot dangling over a two-hundred-foot drop, idly watching the victory celebration below.
A startling loud knock sounded at her chamber door. Three sharp raps. Polite, but firm.
Elara didn't flinch. She had, after all, heard the visitor ever since they rounded the corner by Sir Halric's quarters (twenty-seven seconds ago, give or take). She'd tracked the soft scuff of their boots, the faint clink of the medal the king had pinned on everyone who'd been within fifty yards of the dragon corpse, and the tiny wheeze that meant Lord-Commander Fenwick had once again refused to take the stairs one at a time.
Good She thought, If Lord-Commander Fenwick wanted to see her than the most likely explanation was he had completed her request, and judging by his eagerness to tell her the result - the king had approved it.
She counted to five (just long enough for dramatic tension) then called out, sweet as honey, "Come in!"
The door opened. Fenwick stepped through, chest puffed, cheeks red from climbing four whole flights.
"Lady Elara!" he boomed, as if volume could make up for cardiovascular fitness. "I have carried out your charge and consulted with the King!!"
"I am grateful my lord, and if I may ask, what was the outcome?" Elara spoke in her most lady like accent and offered him a warm smile inwardly rolling her eyes at the melodrama. Judging by his mood (and the sheet of paper waving in his hand, which Elara could already read the script on with her observation despite the distance) the king had clearly approve her request for three months leave.
She was getting a Holiday. Finally She thought Three whole months to do whatever I want...
She was snapped back to reality by Fenwick declaring even louder "THE KING HAS APPROVED YOUR REQUEST FOR LEAVE!!!". Fenwick finished making what he clearly considered to be grand gestures with his flailing arms and handed her the parchment he was clutching. It was a signed royal decree officially relieving her of her duty as a royal knight for three months. "He also asked me to personally thank you once more for valiant defeat of that simply monstrous dragon, and while he is disappointed you won't be attending the feast tonight he understands you must be tired from slaying the dragon and he shall be make several toasts in your honour".
"Thank you for your message my lord" Elara nodded at Fenwick and all but shooed him out of her chambers - albeit politely.
As he shut the door Elara let out a breathy sigh and grinned, She was certainly NOT tired from fighting that pathetic dragon but it was a good excuse to avoid having to attend the feast. She dreaded having to make small talk and pretend to remember the names of various minor nobles far more than any dragon. In fact three days ago when the royal knight core had been charged with slaying the dragon she had actually been excited.
The dragon in question had been a 50 ft tall specimen coated head to tail in obsidian like scales. It had been terrorising the countryside for months and slain many adventurers. When the king had seen fit to dispatch a party of soldiers led by a few A and B rank knight to kill it, they had succeeded in locating the dragon and managed to send off a message noting its nest before it fried the shit out of them all. There were no survivors.
People were calling it the "Great Scourge" and some said it was the strongest dragon in decades. Therefore Elara had been expecting an exciting and enjoyable fight, and volunteered to handle it once the Royal Knight Corps was granted the assignment.
The Royal Knight Corps was the elite of the elite and only had 20 or so members, however each member was level 90 or up. Ironically these powerful knights were rarely sent out of the citadel and were mainly ceremonial in role, so Elara had jumped at the chance for some action.
Ever since she had surpassed 90th level Elara just found life to be so boring, she missed the raw feelings of adrenaline, excitement, fear, pain and the experience of not always being the most powerful. She had expected the Dragon to at least give her a little thrill in what felt like a life on monotony. However the dragon had also disappointed her, the fight lasted a mere six seconds and one blow before she had cleaved the dragons head straight off. Oh She had thought Thats a shame.