https://youtu.be/tzxUFDbxHd8It’s a festival unmistakably so.
You, Hansel and Gretal are walking around Septia park, 10,500 Sq Kilometres of grass, trees, gazebos and statues, the biggest park in Brenho.
In the park’s centre is Crown Lookout, a tower standing at 1000ft, tall enough to look over the entire breadth and width of Rose City. Well 1000ft is the official height, but it’s 1050ft if you include the giant, very imposing statue of Armis looking down on all of you from the tower’s top.
That’s where Noell, Flourette and Lawrence have gone and supposedly where the ceremony is going to take place later.
From where you stand, almost 100km away from the tower, even from that great distance, you can make out Armis’s striking features, like his broad and powerful frame, his always at-the-ready stance, the precise and measured grip his has upon his sword and most striking of all, the piercing gaze bores into you, judging you, determining whether you’re worthy to walk upon his lands and enjoy the fruits of his people.
If that’s supposed to be the splitting image of Armis when he was alive, it’s no wonder so many worship and respect him.
But as impressive as you find the statue and the tower, you’re more focused on the park around you. People from every corner of Ochima have gathered to celebrate the festival, you see the fiery red hair and bronze skin of a Dalamian family pass by as their children drag them from stall to tent.
You hear a band of Siquainaan men, grey hair and glowing eyes, dressed in loosened black military uniform mixing innocuous discussion with their thoughts on the future of the continent as they clink glasses of beer.
You laugh at the way Hansel and Gretal blush as they see a Cremoxian couple hug and kiss beneath a lamppost, sharing whispers of pure love in their native tongue.
You almost get into a fight when you bump into a few Kuggendese men who’ve clearly had one too many to drink, but thankfully Hansel manages to talk them out of doing anything rash. Lucky bastards.
It’s a festival, unmistakably so.
(So this is the Razorrose Festival huh…) You wonder in awe, you expected extravagant but the showing here rivals a 4th of July party in the heart of Square Times, people from all over the continent are just having a blast.
(Almost makes you forget this all a big prelude to one hell of a bloody battle…shit, I’m thinking depressing bullshit again, I need to take my mind off of everything, at least for tonight…) You scold yourself.
“So, Hansel, where are we heading? Are we going to hit some stalls? Join some events?” You ask.
“All of the above! Right now however, we’re actually heading towards a bigger event.” he answers.
“Bigger event?” You question.
“Yes, one could even say it’s the 2nd biggest event tonight besides the ceremony, B Kupol Boli.” He states.
“What’s that mean?” You ask.
“The Dome of Pain.” He translates.
