Logan finished putting on his outfit for the nightly events occurring outside. An opened robe of mixed blue, greys, and blacks covered up to the forearm and dangled at his calves. Underneath was a white and blue shirt and vest, with darker blue and dimmed grey trousers flowing over ankle-high black boots.

As was customary for the festival, Logan showed no trinkets or weapons, let alone not wearing any form of armour. It wasn’t so scary a situation for the Spellthief, however, as his Inventory system could be accessed easily without any sort of item on him. Whereas normally classed beings needed a trinket storage system.

He did keep his Cache Arm equipped though, as it was wholly defensive and a form of privacy for the man, one of the few recognized and valid trinkets. There were a few other allowances, but Logan didn’t have many on that list.

“Rather dashing, Logan”, Fol spoke within Logan’s head, the robotic voice becoming more formal and human-like with time.

“Thanks, Fol. It’ll be nice to unwind”, Logan replied in his mind.

“Relaxation is as big a part of life, as betterment.”

“When did you get so philosophical?”

“I have been ruminating over our time together. The things you’ve experienced and the situations I have come to understand.”

“Any grand conclusions?”

“I feel that when you reach a baseline Intelligence of 100 I will have a better life goal.”

Logan did a quick calculation in his head, his growth for the attribute was 1.5, with 1 bonus point to spend on it each level, “You’ll be waiting till level 35 for that. If I don’t gain any further demonhood stages.”

“It is good that my patience is immeasurable.”

Logan chuckled as he moved to his door and left his room.

Moving down to the tavern area of the inn, Logan was greeted by the sight of his companions.

Marcus was wearing a new robe that had the left side yellow and the right blue, symbolising his connection to Pondress as well as just being colourful for a festival. Its centre was open to show a set of dark blue shirts, trousers, and boot combo.

Gaemo was garbed in tighter-fitting red leathers with an opened dark-red robe over the top. His trousers were black as were his boots. He had also used some herbs to dye his hair a light black, instead of its usual grey.

Sincollo was nowhere to be seen, but Logan had read that the saebers went elsewhere to celebrate, as did the diglaeta, but Logan had yet to see more than two of those in the capital.

“All good to go?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, the girls said they’d meet us in the centre”, Gaemo replied with a smile.

“Let’s go”, Marcus added as he moved to the door with a skip in his step.

The outside streets of Gauntlet were well-lit. Floating orbs of fire donned the sky, while the higher tiers had stars shine down onto the city. Walls had sconces aflame, the flickering of flames accenting the chatter as people walked on by to the centre of the city. Even at the height of the night, the city was colourful and bright.

Mingling in with the crowds, everyone moved to the centre of Gauntlet, the place where the festival had been set up properly. As a collection of all walks of life, the market square played home to low and high-born.

Countless stalls had hawkers selling street meats, candied treats, as well as offering games to play. If Logan had first believed he got drunk at a ren faire to appear in Avanar, this would be what he got drunk at to return home.

Minute explosions could be heard every so often, displays of blue, orange, and yellow around 50’ and higher from the ground. Magical fireworks inspired the nightlife of the festival.

Men and women wore similar robes to that of the party, many showing deference to their deities, while others followed the colour scheme of the festival itself. Those from lower-income households had more formal attire than usual, but some lacked the robes that were more common.

Reaching the market square revealed even more stalls than before, as well as many more people. Logan noticed several adventurers amongst the crowd, familiar faces during his travels. Three other familiar faces approached the trio.

The gashriek, Wriske, was decorated in a very earthy dress. Browns and greens with depictions of leaves and flowers from neck to ankle. She wore a belt that had a few pressed flowers dangling from it too, giving off a wonderful scent as well as accenting the outfit wonderfully.

Evén was in an outfit that could have been a sister to Gaemo’s. Light-red leather hugged her form under an open flowing pink robe with white triangular designs at the cuffs. This was made even more evident as she jogged to Gaemo’s side.

Amalia was the last, the wind blowing her long red hair in front of her as she brushed it aside with her hand. Wearing a ruffled dress of a subdued gold and flowery design, it went up to her wrists, and neck, and had a diagonal cut from her knee to the other ankle. Adorning her feet were ankle-hight boots of a darker gold. Some of her muscular form could be seen through the sleeves, but the dress did amazing work to address her femininity.

Logan could see Gaemo whisper something in Evén’s ear, the pair beaming at each other. Marcus complimented Wriske’s dress shortly after, though doing nothing to hide his words. Logan stepped up to Amalia as he saw an expecting look on her face.

“That’s a beautiful colour on you”, Logan coupled together.

“Your outfit is a nice fit too”, Amalia responded as she pulled slightly on Logan’s robe sleeve.

It was calming to no longer have the window pop up to alert the two that a PC was looking at them, having adjusted that setting, their conversations and meetings felt much more inviting.

Gaemo clapped his hands to get the group's attention before addressing them, “Let’s browse the stalls and get something to eat. The dance segment begins in two hours”, he said with a wide smile.

Accepting the prompt to move, the six classed individuals moved through the pathways connecting to the market square.

Checking out fashionable clothing, the group bought a few accessories to adorn themselves at the event and times of calm in the city.

Next were potion stalls selling magical brews for recreation, sending the users to sleep, changing the colours of the world, heightening sounds, or putting them on a wondrous illusionary journey.

The stalls thereafter were full of games and trial-use trinkets. Spending some extra time at a shooting gallery, the party were introduced to the game’s rules by the gashriek owner.

“Two copper a go, five for three. The aim of the game is to hit each of the ten straw targets at the back using these Force rings. You can only fire eleven times per try.”

Gaemo quickly placed a tiny tower of three silver on the counter, the runner handing out a set of six rings to the party, though he changed them out with each try.

Starting off, Gaemo missed several of the straw targets as they began to move when the game started. His second try was a little better, and his third had him miss only two. He was using an open palm style to attack with the mick he didn’t usually have access to.

Evén was next, and while she was more accurate, her hands shook with the use of magic. With her final round, she had missed a single target.

Wriske’s turn had her win in the final round with no shots to spare, the team giving a polite clap to her victory. She was given a small wooden tag with a symbol stamped onto it as a reward. They were similar to prize tickets found in Earth’s arcades.

Marcus followed shortly, leveraging his right arm with his left hand as if he were using a wrist crossbow. He succeeded in the second round on the final shot. He was rewarded a wooden tag with a different symbol, denoting it as a better reward.

Amalia couldn’t hold back any longer and skipped to the counter with her hands close to her chest. Throwing her right hand out as if she were playing air hockey, she let loose disc-like grey energy waves at the targets. Flatter but wider, they hit a slightly bigger area. However, these seemed to lack the “power” of a normal Force mick, sometimes failing to knock down the targets even after hitting them. She sadly didn’t win any round.

Logan was last, slipping the ring on his finger he felt the paltry power within it skyrocket with his own. He could tell the mick ring was rather weak, dealing only two damage, but had eleven uses within it per day. In his hand, however, it would deal twenty-four damage without his normal trinkets.

Closing his fist and leaving only his pointer finger, Logan mentally changed his output to just five. Aiming at each of the moving straw targets was similar to striking goblins, if a bit smaller than normal. Firing a small Force mick at each, he hit them down with fervour, straw flying off with each blast. Without any consideration for failure, Logan won in the first round with a shot to spare.

The group clapped a bit louder with slight gasps and laughter. The runner of the game was even surprised.

“Well done, sir! Would you like to double up for the harder version?” the gashriek asked.

Logan nodded, to which the stall owner pulled a different lever to reveal faster targets which intersected every so often. “Alright, with this ring, you have to hit ten targets with ten shots”, he said as he handed out a different ring.

This one was slightly stronger, but as the man said it only had ten charges. Swapping the rings, Logan lined up his shots again.

Logan quickly caught on to the design of this game. The higher power was meant to allow for piercing shots. When the targets intersected, or rather a second before they did, Logan fired a Force mick and slammed down two targets at once. He did this a few times and even ended on a single shot and then a triple shot. Using only five of ten uses of the ring.

The party let out whistles and cheers at Logan’s proficiency, while the game runner had his jaw drop.

Sorting through some wooden tags he handed three to Logan, “Here you go, sir. You’re the best so far, though to be expected of a mage.”

Looking at the tags, Logan saw he had actually tripled his max reward, each shot he saved garnering more points than usual.

“Thank you all for playing! If you’re interested in these rings then make sure to stop by my store after the festival”, the gashriek added as he handed out small scraps of parchment to advertise his store.

Amalia took it with gusto, scanning over it quickly. While she used magical means to craft weapons, she still wanted to cast spells.

Moving away from the game stall, Gaemo spoke to Logan, “Great work there, Logan. Don’t think you’ll be the best at all these games though!”

This was certainly true, the next game proved that. A knife toss that had targets moving side to side, on circular boards, and hidden behind obstacles. As Logan went first he missed a few but did better than anticipated.

Gaemo did a bit better but wasn’t able to win. The same was apparent for Marcus and Amalia who hardly threw anything in their time as adventurers. Wriske did better than the worst two, but she hardly threw daggers either.

It came to Evén who did the best. Throwing the daggers with precision, hitting them off of each other in the air to hit hidden targets, and even bouncing the handle off a wall to rebound into a target. The bonus round was full of curved and circular dagger designs, some being straight-up chakrams. As they spun and curved in the air, Evén had only a bit of trouble having them hit the harder targets.

With enough games completed and tags filling their pockets, the gang picked up some treats from other stalls. Fruit that had been cut into jagged star shapes covered in honey that had hardened. Snapping off parts of the stars in their mouths, they crunched down as they browsed other stalls.

Lights continued to dazzle the area above the festival, speckles of dust coming down to street level before disappearing completely.

The sounds of lutes, drums, and wind instruments began to play around the market and down the paths. Several musicians took up spots on the corners, or atop podiums to liven up the event as people started to clap and tap their shoes against the stone road.

This sparked the group, and many others, to form duos and trios to join in with the dancing festivities.

--- *** ---

Time for relaxation.