The chill wind howled through the rugged peaks of the Isshond Fjords, carrying whispers of an unsettling mystery that gripped the secluded region in fear. Zerutod, a young man with strikingly pupil-less pale lavender eyes and silver hair cascading messily over his shoulders, stood at the edge of the village of Quickquarr, his trench coat billowing around him. Behind him, A Rune Knight recruit shifted uneasily, her expressions a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "So, Zerutod, what exactly are we doing here?" one of the recruits asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty as they navigated the cobbled streets of Quickquarr. The village seemed frozen in time, quaint cottages lining the narrow lanes, the Villages full of life as the villagers went on with their day Zerutod's faint smile was almost imperceptible as he tilted his head, listening keenly to the pulse of the village around them. "We're here to uncover a mystery, my friend," he replied, his tone soft yet resolute. "There have been strange disappearances, of people vanishing into thin air." The recruits exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the unknown settling upon them like a heavy shroud. Zerutod's blind eyes, however, gleamed with a fierce determination that belied his seemingly hapless demeanor. As they approached the village square, it seemed some sort of festivities were beginning
Zerutod walked with measured steps, his hand lightly grazing the wall as he navigated the bustling town square of Iceberg. The air was filled with the scent of roasting chestnuts and the excited chatter of the townspeople. As they approached the center of the square, a gathering crowd piqued Zerutod's curiosity. "What's happening over there?" the recruit, her eyes gleaming with interest. Zerutod paused, turning his head toward the source of the commotion. In the heart of the square stood a stage, and atop it was an elderly man with a twinkle in his eye, welcoming the onlookers. "That's Sivle Jewell," the recruit volunteered, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "He's a famous puppeteer known for his magical shows all over Fiore." Zerutod's ears perked up at the mention of magic. He silently observed as the elderly man, Sivle, welcomed the crowd with a gentle smile, his presence commanding attention.
"I remember seeing his show as a child," the recruit continued, her tone filled with fond memories. "I had no idea he was still performing." Excitement buzzed in the air as children and adults alike gathered around the stage, eager to witness the renowned puppeteer in action. The colorful banners flapped in the breeze, adding to the festive atmosphere. As Sivle began his performance, the recruits were mesmerized by the unique puppets crafted from bright cloth instead of the traditional wooden figures. Zerutod noted the intricate movements of the puppets, each gesture brought to life by Sivle's mastery of magic. Laughter and gasps of amazement filled the square as the puppets danced and sang, weaving a spellbinding tale that held the audience captive. Among the array of puppets, a figure emerged, drawing cheers and applause from the crowd—the famous puppet, Temoe. A Bright Blue puppet standing at around 4 feet high. The recruit's eyes widened in delight as Temoe took center stage, his fluid movements captivating the audience. Zerutod found himself intrigued by the connection between Sivle and his puppet, a bond that transcended mere strings and fabric.
As the performance reached its climax, Sivle and Temoe took their final bow, eliciting thunderous applause from the spectators. The stage was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows that danced with the joyous crowd. After the show, Sivle and Temoe graciously thanked the audience, their voices filled with gratitude. Children swarmed around them, showering the puppeteer with compliments and adoration. Zerutod watched as the recruit's eager expression remained fixed on Sivle and Temoe. With a playful smile, he nudged her gently. "Go on, don't miss your chance to meet them," he encouraged his voice kind. The recruit's gasp of excitement was music to Zerutod's ears as she hurried toward Sivle and Temoe. His blind eyes scanned the crowd, noting the presence of other mages scattered among the spectators, a curious detail he filed away in the recesses of his mind. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the square, Zerutod's keen senses remained vigilant, his mind alerted to every detail in the gathering dusk.