Spiritual Ascension Online (SAO AU - SI Quartet) - Chapter 5

 Launch Day Part 5

The Cour des Miracles was located underground, if not quite deep enough as to encroach upon the Catacombs. The NPCs inhabiting the area lent it the air of a land frozen in time, full of colourful, outlandish clothes and style, with freely cast magic filling the area with all kinds of effects. Rather fitting, was it not? For this land, her beloved Avalon, truly was the greatest of miracles made manifest upon the world. 

Mira's goal was a specific performance troupe centred around a large, garish yellow pavilion in the corner of this specific Cour. One of the NPCs here had a seemingly innocuous quest which potentially led to a Skill tutorial, involving a lost manuscript containing his lines for the troupe's incoming play. Mira glided through the strange atmosphere of the district, her own robes and style all too easily blending in as if she’d lived there all her life. Despite that, and the endless parade of curiosities, she let none of them distract from the tent that her eyes were set upon. For the world was ablaze with wonders, and these lacked the brilliance of what lay afield. 

So not too soon after she entered, she stood before her first proper step upon her journey.

"Kids above do love when I practise in front of them." The human NPC grinned sheepishly. "Normally I bring with me older scripts so as to not spoil any of the director's upcoming plays. But recently I have been having some issues with my memory, black outs and such so I was worried about messing up the opening night. Worst thing is, I misplaced it!" The man wailed (quietly, impressively enough, avoiding the attention of his fellows). "There's a bit of a forested area in Tuileries I use for private practice, but when I went back to check it, I couldn't find it! Please, mon ami, I'll be in so much trouble if it gets leaked!"

Without a moment of hesitation, once his own lines were said, it was time to play her part. “Worry no more, o friend. For we are already upon the stage, are we not? To forget one’s lines a most inestimable tragedy. I shalt return with thine script in hand, for I hath time for such an act.” She waited not for his response, the system notification for her starting the Quest confirmation enough, before whirling around and walking straight towards the garden of Tuileries.

The biggest hassle of beelining between Ile-de-la-Cite, Cour des Miracles and Tuileries was the fact that to get to the last one from the second required one to pass through Ile regardless. Not something one would notice playing normally and merely stumbling on the quest but for Mira, it did end a little bit absurd. 

The blossoming park was fairly packed with the NPCs, with Mira's target being a small grove near the bank of Seine. The manuscript for the troupe's quest chain was hidden underneath a rose bush at the edge of the grove and its possession was, in fact, required for the divergence.

Now, normally in MMOs sequence breaking a quest was impossible but thanks to Cardinal, SAO was something of an exception. Usually, one had to go through at least the first part of the troupe's questline until they got the Performance Skill before the hypothetical player would've been invited to a 'private performance' and given instructions on how to enter a small enclave of Feylands trapped in the city.

Or, if the player knew about the (very loose) mushroom ring around the grove, they could manually activate the gate, closing the circumference of the ring by removing a few iron and plastic items laid over it and then channelling magic into four specific mushrooms.

It was here that Mirana’s methodology changed. Where before all her actions were with haste, she treated the fairy ring with reverence. Each piece of plastic and iron was gently removed, and properly disposed of, before she herself stood in the centre of the circle. Four runes drawn on the ground in loose chalk, all the same, each in the direction of the relevant fungus. “Laguz.” Perhaps she had no need to call their name. But she did anyway.

”Freefall awaits the brave…”

With a quietly sung lyric, she activated the impromptu ritual.

The air around Mira rippled as if heated and the warmth blew across her face as well. The waves of almost visible heat attempted to lull her into drowsiness even as they bound outwards only to rebound from the edge of the mushroom ring. Once, twice, thrice. On the fourth rebound, The very scenery around Mira rippled and shifted, the small grove saturating with rich, vibrant hues. The park she had seen so far beyond the few trees changed too.

It was far more overgrown and blooming, flowers and trees and bushes. All with twisting, natural paths of dirt, the shadows under the trees illuminated by the softly glowing blue flowers and lazily drifting golden insects. A little slice of Feylands, trapped within the city with no way out. Mirana could only smile widely. The energy here felt far better than Paris did, after all.

A pair of fae men approached the grove, armed with shields and spear-staves. "Hold, mage!" The one on the right bellowed. "You enter the domain of Count Pervigeo of the Summer Court. What it is that you seek in the Summer's Embassy uninvited?"

“I am but a mere changeling, journeying that the traveller may return to the East, that spring may come once more, and that the wasteland may yet heal the dolorous stroke dealt upon it.” She paused for a mere moment, taking in a breath. “But afore I may make mine quest, I must embrace mine true self. And so I hath come to the domain of faerie, offering a tale of mine own for perhaps a boon.” For mere puppets she need not worry about the flowers of her words, they would comprehend regardless.

The guard on the right leaned back, tapping his arm with his spear-staff. "A great span has elapsed since a visitor upon our lord's domain like thee has treaded upon the paths of local faerie. Come, traveller, we shall accompany thee before the Count and there thee shall be able to make your bargain." His tone was light and his face jovial, the man clearly delighting in a more antiquated speech and mannerism as he bowed to Mira before he and his comrade escorted her. Vibrant as the parisian fairyland was, the eagerness with which Mira's procession grew, with tens of fey attaching themselves to the novelty of an 'uninvited' outsider spoke of the kind of mire and boredom only a confinement to the same space for decades could create.

So it was that, tailed by a veritable menagerie of colourful NPCs, Mira was admitted to an open air pavilion at the centre of Fairy Tuileries, where Count Pervigeo reclined on a massive rose as if it was a sofa.

As beings of stories, fairies tended to congregate around settlements of other races, but for those who swore allegiance to the Season Courts, the trappings of civilization those other races erected to live in oft became quite a bit more literal, preventing the fae of the Court from leaving. Such was the case of Pervigeo who until recently was able to communicate with the outside of the city simply by sailing the Seine. He livened the time of his own court by patronising performers from outside, all to supply his vassals with the stories for his court to live by.

The proper way to progress that quest would have been through the troupe's quest line where the player would become attached to the group on one such occasion and, being impressed by the performance, being offered a chance to transform into a fae. Meaning, a short quest to record the story of the player undergoing it, to spin the starting pattern of the newborn fae's tapestry. Of course, proper was something Mirana was anything but.

Shifting in his seat, the fae noble's dark eyes took Mira in before the man leaned back, fingers of his right hand beating a rhythm against his knee. "Verily, I bid my noble comrade Charles-Henri's latest creation with steadfast patience, when tidings doth reach mine ears of a trespasser who seeks me with intent, bearing a tale for mine attentive ear. This matter doth pique mine interest, hence I doth extend to thee an opportunity to manifest the veracity of thy vow." 

With a gesture, other fae scattered around the pavilion, giving Mira space to perform as the Paris' Count of Flowers sat at attention. She listened as the count heard her request, curtsying at the appropriate moment. She took a deep breath, and so she sang. She could make no claim to having written the words herself, she was not so accomplished as to have done so. But they were from her soul all the same, a song of what she wished her story to be, a song of the stars she wished to grasp.

“Once upon a time a song was heard…”

Unbidden, a dream leapt to her mind. The dream of magic, of a new land, of freedom echoing through the cracks of the cage called reality.

“Giving birth to a child of earth and verse…”

Her dream was a dream of flight, of slipping through those cracks into a new world, a world where all could write their own stories. A world where she could write her own story.

And so, she sang.

“…Roaming on the endless prairie. Writing an endless story...”

As pink-red light glowed around her, she sang of hope. Hope for herself. For her future. That one day she could look back, and see how far she’d come.

“…Time to rest now and to finish the show, to become the music, one with Alpenglow.”

She sang of her ending. She knew not when it would come, or where. But she knew it in her bones. One day, she would step into that tapestry of song and history herself. She could but pray that when the time came, her deeds would be worthy of their own songs.

Count Pervigeo remained silent for a moment, eyes closed and head tilted to the side. If not for the smallest of nods of his head, one could be mistaken for thinking him fallen asleep. The rest of his court remained, if not silent, then keeping their chatter quiet enough it remained a background noise to Mira. Eventually, however, the noble of the Summer Court opened his eyes with a gentle smile on his face and clapped politely, a signal for the rest to follow.

"A tale of great fascination, my noble guest. Indeed, most captivating! I have perceived the longing of thine heart echoing throughout thy narrative and do recognize it." The fairy man praised as he rose. "Yet, a metamorphosis such as thou dost desire doth not come lightly, nor without due cost."

"Verily, it may be less arduous for thee, given thy noble lineage, yet if thou desirest it to possess the strength of ancient oak, thou must couple valorous deeds with thine tale so that we may fashion thy shroud rightly." Count Pervigeo finished, stepping down from his throne to stand before Mira. He was tall and willowy, clad in intricately carved armour of some flexible manner of wood, his cloak up close in truth being the butterfly wings of vibrant red, orange and black. His eyes, dark and smouldering like a pair of coals, bore into Mira's own as he awaited her answer.

Mira let out the tiniest sigh of relief, inaudible to all save herself. Her tale had achieved its goal and now, as she raised her head and met his eyes, for the trivial part. Valour was well within her grasp, dame that she was.

“I accept thine challenge. Whatever quest I am to voyage upon, I shalt prove mine self to thee, and be reborn in glorious flame.” No more needed to be said. Her determination had been set upon this path long ago, and now, she would at long last begin to reap its reward.

"Thou dost envision the art of soaring through the skies, thus thou must procure a sample of wings that we may forge for thee. How thou shalt attain such wings is thine own endeavour, as is fitting. Secondly, a delicate thread of gossamer to entwine thy cocoon. Lastly, a seed of a wondrous herb, to burgeon into a fresh and thrilling existence." Smoothly, the fae noble turned on his heel and returned to his sofa, waving his hand dismissively, even as he kept his gaze on the elf. 

Mirana curtsied one last time before sweeping out of the cour. Now, her tasks awaited, for the classic rule of three was present in her story just as in all tales.