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The ray of golden light struck by the figure of a woman whose fabric was softened by the perfection of artistry. She was standing there with a grail fitted into her hand that still had flecks of the gold paint which rested upon it. The marble, at various parts, was incrusted with pieces of ruby, turquoise, and diamond.
His breath was taken. There was nothing more beautiful than the woman who stood before Lucian. Yet there was nothing more he could do than admire the beauty for it was a statue and not a person. Flesh was stone and the grail within her hands was also part of the statue itself.
This was the grail shrine. A statue made in the memory of a man who had not only glanced at the Lady of the Lake, but was able to capture his memory of the goddess with his own two hands. Such a piece must have taken several years to create by sheer workmanship alone. The value in such a statue was beyond counting, but Lucian knew that of such a thing was allowed several Counts, Barons, and even Dukes would give an entire castle to host this within their garden.
“She is a beauty, is she not.” Lucian looked over to see the Peasant walking in. The Knight knew that the man had not been there a moment ago, and guessed that whatever happened was the same effect that cow had used to hide from Lucian.
They were both fay, or atleast fay like, he comprehended.
“Beyond.” Lucian could not stop himself from being brutally honest, “Not even the Damsel Albera the Golden could compare to the Lady of the Lake.”
“Agreed.” The ‘Peasant’ said as he walked over and admired the statue far more, “This was made by Grail Knight Osmond, the same one who you saved from oblivion nearly a year ago from this day. It was by his hands that this was created to honor the lady.”
“He did it.” Lucian said as he looked upon the Peasant, “Who are you?”
The Peasant gave a smile that was both whimsal and confident. A snapping of his fingers caused a spark of light that traveled up his arm and across his face. Clothing that he was wearing was set alight allowing free the fabrics that were hiding underneath.
A small burning smell came from her, but Lucian breath was once again taken by surprise as Albera the Golden, the Damsel to who he admired, stood before him.
She had played a trick upon Lucian and it had worked perfectly.