Parade for a Drakeslayer | Notes About the Setting

 Old Breta, the captial of the Northern Kingdoms, is abuzz with activity. Not since the times before the Dragon War has the inner city been this alive, with market stalls lining the roads and travellers from far flung lands crowding the streets in their dozens. Trinkets, local specialties and food and drink aplenty are purchased at the local markets, and in private rooms away from the crowds, great commemorative works are commissioned or handed over to wealthy patrons. It is a time of celebration: the Titanodragon of Calam has been slain and the war against its minions is over. That is not to say that the period that follows will be one of peace - while their guiding intelligence is no more, many of the feral monsters still lurk in their former lands, and there are now a number of powers with interests in these newly freed domains. However, for the moment at least, there is a reprieve from strains of conflict and a sense of unity across the continent. This is true on this day especially; the grand victory parade takes place tonight.

 As day turns to dusk and the beginnings of night, the thoroughfare straight from the city gate to the palace is cleared. Electrobraziers, placed all the way along the route, light the path with an evershifting stream of crackling radiance that casts flickering shadows on the crowds and buildings along each side. Then, with a fanfare from the city guard and much delight from the eager onlookers, the parade begins at last. First in the march come the guards themselves, bearing the regalia of the city and banners representing the nations of the Northern Kingdoms. Many of these guards are locals that have been stationed to defend the city itself; while these warriors may not be as grand or mighty as those to follow, there is nontheless a unique sense of pride at their inclusion in these honours, especially for those in the crowds who know and live alongside them. Following behind are the various delegations of the empires to the East, the personal warbands of more than a dozen independent rulers, but the largest of all of these is from the Anvillon - a close ally of the Kingdoms during the Dragon War, with both its forces and resources in lent in support. Not only is it the largest of these ambassadorial groups in number, but also in the physical size of its representives: though there are a number of human fighters among them, these individuals are considerably overshadowed by the hulking robots accompanying them. Designed to match the larger monsters in physical power, though coldly stoic where their bestial counterparts are ferociously aggressive, they tower over the ranks before and behind them and are watched by all but the few visitors from Anvillon itself with wary awe. For the guests, it would be hard to imagine anyone following in the wake of these stomping, metal giants without seeming greatly diminished, but it was now the turn of the knights to prove that assumption false.

 Three figures lead the knights' march, each one a standard bearer in full warplate, holding a rich, woven depiction of their respective order's name and honours: a set of great, pale-blue, crystalline claws detailed as if tearing into the banner themselves, shooting stars streaking across a night sky as celestial spears, and a new icon displayed to all for the first time - a draconic head set upon a plunging sword amidst a wreath of flames. Then follows the full ranks of the orders in full glory, in gleaming armour of red, blue, black and white, trimmed with gold and silver and studded with gemstones, sparkling and gleaming with coruscating swirls as they reflect the arcing light of the braziers. As majestic a sight as can be imagined, the show the preceded them is but a distant memory now. But even at this pinnacle, the true climax is yet to come. Another row of three individuals, each from a different order as marked out by their bespoke armour of ruby, sapphire and onyx, but each riding atop an automaton warhorse or a chariot pulled by the same. These are the lords, the commanders of the orders themselves, but directly behind them follows the greatest sight of all: the Grand Regent himself atop a carriage drawn by four automata crafted in the form of winged steeds. Clad in armour of such blinding radiance, it is hard to look upon the full sight and though all present will remember the moment, very few will remember the full sight and a scores of differing artworks will be created over time in efforts to recall it.

 The remainder of the parade that follows is little remembered or recorded, for all heads are now turned in a last effort to see the kingdoms' knights, and their ruler, as they head off into the distance.