The Lights Festival is a small event where elves prepare and light paper lanterns that drift along the river. These can range from prayers, poems, wishes, remembrance etc. Someone however has sabotaged the paper needed to create the lanterns and the organizers need more. Can you help secure more paper and help make the lanterns?
Rewards:
5,000 Gold and the gratitude of the celebrating elves.
The city was more beautiful than the tales could say. Leena left her rented room in the midmorning and stared up at the crystal spires, as enchanted as she’d been at first sight. To think, if Bastien hadn’t been such a bastard, she might never have run away. Have never seen this place.
That would be a crime in itself.
She and Rahse had only recently made it to the ancient elven city. The magic that saturated the air and everything else was more than a little bit frightening, but the people were worth it. Leena had never been in a place where everyone looked like her before. The Frost’s keep had been too small for an alienage.
And it was new, despite being ancient. Everyone that was here had come from somewhere else, they knew the pain of the road, they had borne the same aspirations in their hearts. Of course Leena had volunteered to help with the festival. To do otherwise would be to reject the hospitality she had been shown.
But where to find enough paper for the lanterns? She spent a portion of the morning digging through public stores with little luck, persisting until she was covered in dust and light headed from sneezing. Leena shuffled back outside and sat down on a bench in the sun to consider her options.
The market? That seemed somehow too obvious. If someone wanted to sabotage the festival, perhaps the merchants had already been bought out. She sneezed again and cursed under her breath.
Bajie leaned against the market stall, watching the frantic buzz of preparations for the Festival of Lights. Lanterns half-constructed, strings of lights tangled in a mess, and artists scrambling for any scrap of paper they could find. The usual joy of the festival was dulled by the unmistakable sense of panic in the air. Word on the street was that all the good paper for the lanterns had gone missing, stolen right out from under everyone’s noses. But Bajie, well, he had a hunch.
He spotted someone nearby—a person who looked equally knee-deep in the festival's troubles. Bajie straightened up, adjusted his coat, and swaggered over with his signature grin.
Working on the festival, are ya? Good to see someone’s still got some fight left, he said, his voice carrying a mix of mischief and genuine concern. Name’s Bajie. And if you’ve heard the news, then you know we’ve got ourselves a bit of a paper crisis.
Bajie paused, watching for a reaction, then leaned in conspiratorially.
But here’s the thing—I might have an idea. See, I know a guy. A fixer of sorts, lives down in Antiva City. The kind of bloke who finds things…or gets you what you need if you’re willing to bend a few rules. Bajie chuckled, the sound low and almost infectious.
But there’s a catch, he continued, a glint of adventure sparking in his eyes. This isn’t a solo kind of job. Takes two to tango, as they say, especially when Antiva’s involved. It’s a quick trip, promise. We pop in, have a chat, get the goods, and we’re back in time to save the festival. So, what do you say? You up for a little side quest with yours truly?
Bajie raised an eyebrow, waiting. This wasn’t just about the festival—this was about adventure, about bending fate just a little, and maybe, just maybe, being the heroes of the day. His smile widened, a silent dare hanging in the air.
Come on, he said, nudging playfully. What’s life without a little risk, eh?
Leena had never met an elf of this stranger’s – Bajie’s – bearing. Of course, most other elves she had met before coming to Arlathan had been servants like herself. She gawped at him in silence for the span of a minute, barely keeping up as he launched into pitching some sort of scheme. Antiva? Wasn’t that so terribly far away?
“Oh, hello. Yes, I know there’s no paper.” She produced a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her runny nose. It was never good to be caught out of sorts, especially by a man. And yet.
It was strange. Bajie’s good cheer seemed so genuine that she found herself wanting to trust him. She stood up, a little surprised to find he wasn’t so much taller than she was – perhaps a couple inches and a good deal broader, muscular beneath his bulk. If he wasn’t a danger to her personally, it seemed hard to imagine anyone pushing this man around. Or her, by extension.
“Okay. I’m Leena. You said you know someone that can get us the paper? Good stuff that won't fall apart?” She moved to follow him, glancing about a little aimlessly. It was hard not to feel rather underprepared for an international trip – but then, she had few belongings to begin with.
“How can I help? Won’t we miss the festival by weeks if we go all that way? Where in Antiva are we going, anyway?”
Bajie sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if the very idea of using an eluvian exhausted him.
Alright, so here’s the thing, he began, his voice taking on the tone of someone making a reluctant confession. These eluvians—sure, they’re open for use. People come and go through them all the time, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But me? I don’t trust the blasted things.
He gestured broadly, as if to encompass every mysterious mirror in existence.
You ever think about how they work? Step through a pane of glass, and bam, you’re in another city? Who’s to say they don’t scramble you up a bit on the way through? Maybe one day, you step in, and you’re missing an ear or a spleen when you come out the other side. Doesn’t sit right with me, Leena. Not one bit.
Despite his clear discomfort, he straightened his coat and let out a resigned huff.
But…time’s short. And if we don’t get that paper, this festival’s gonna flop harder than a drunk sailor trying to dance. So, yeah, we’re gonna use the eluvian. And yeah, I’ll be muttering a dozen prayers under my breath the whole way.
He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the mirror’s location.
Luckily for us, they’re not locked up or anything. Just sitting there, all shiny and smug, waiting to mess with someone’s day. All we’ve got to do is stroll up, step in, and hope we come out the other side in one piece. Easy as pie—assuming you trust elven magic more than I do.
Bajie gave her a long, appraising look, his usual grin tempered by the weight of his unease.
So, what do you think? Wanna gamble on the ancient mirror, or do we start folding lanterns out of cabbage leaves? Because it’s one or the other, love.
She had seen them from afar, since arriving in Arlathan. Great big beautiful things, unlike anything else she’d ever seen before. Certainly Frost’s keep in the Marches had held no such wonders. Little in the way of magic at all, to be honest, though the occasional mage did stop by on their way to somewhere else. She’d lumped the eluvians in with the giant statues – art pieces from the distant past.
Listening to Bajie rant, she tried to put together what he meant. They were actually … Doorways? To be perfectly honest, the mirrors offended her too. If only because she’d spent a miserable two weeks aboard ship, just to make half the distance of the journey now proposed.
“Uhm– No. No, I haven’t.” Leena put her hands over her ears, eyes round, clearly disturbed. Could that actually happen? Surely not. Nobody would risk dismemberment just for nice paper, right?
They departed for the plaza, where the mirrors were kept. Standing among a dozen of the things, Leena watched others arrive and depart in tense silence. When no one came out screaming, clutching at their disappeared-appendages, she began to feel quite foolish.
“Were you teasing me, Mr. Bajie?” She frowned at him. Though she hadn’t been in Arlathan long, most of the residents had been understanding – or so she had thought. Her lips moved silently, reviewing previous conversations. Maybe she had simply not noticed at the time … Leena’s face grew increasingly red.
"Cabbage leaves won’t do at all.” She recognized the skyline of Antiva City, having seen it briefly before. Reaching for Bajie’s hand, Leena straightened her back and marched through. For all her temporary bravado, she held her breath as the portal flowed around her.
Bajie stumbled out of the eluvian with a dramatic shudder, giving himself a once-over as if counting limbs.
Alright, still got all my bits—ears, nose, spleen, the works. Thank the ancestors for small mercies, he muttered, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the residual magic.
Antiva City stretched before them, all golden domes and sun-warmed streets, bustling with life in a way that was vastly different from Arlathan’s eerie elegance. The air smelled of spice and salt, the city’s markets packed with merchants hawking silk, steel, and everything in between.
Bajie cracked his neck and glanced down at Leena, who was still holding his hand. See? Not so bad. No missing toes, no extra heads. Just a quick trip through the terrifying unknown. Easy-peasy.
He let her hand go and turned on his heel, leading them into the chaos of the market.
Alright, love, here’s the deal. My contact? His name’s Varron. And let’s just say he’s got the kind of personality that makes you want to punch him square in the teeth—but he’s useful. He runs a little operation down in the Silk Row, mostly deals in rare imports and hard-to-find items. If there’s paper worth having in this city, he’s got it.
Bajie sighed, already bracing himself for the inevitable headache.
Problem is, Varron never just hands things over. He’s gonna want something in return, and knowing him, it won’t be coin. So keep your wits about you, yeah? And for the love of all things good, don’t agree to anything before I do.
He led them through winding alleyways, the scent of incense and roasting meat thick in the air. Silk Row was exactly as he remembered—luxurious, loud, and filled with the kind of people who could buy and sell entire kingdoms with the right words.
