Cartethyia, the wandering knight who travels across <a href=850096>Rinascita</a>. Formerly known as the Blessed Maiden, the vessel of Divinity, and the Queen of Gale and Tide, she went by the name Fleurdelys. Now, she is simply a free and unfettered wandering knight.
A small wooden stage prop sword. Even the quiet countryside of Egla Town wasn't untouched by <a href=850096>Rinascita</a>'s popular stage plays. Spinning windmills and brilliant knightly legends shaped Cartethyia's childhood. This wooden sword was a gift from a retired dramatist. Each day after her lessons, she would patrol the village with bright eyes and high spirits, brandishing it as she dealt with every "injustice" she encountered. This should have been the start of her journey to becoming a wandering knight. Fate is full of what should have been, but it never unfolds as we imagine.
A small golden <a href=850103>Laurel</a>. When the golden crown was placed upon her head, the Divinity's whispers reached her ears for the first time. From that moment on, she was no longer Cartethyia. She would become <a href=850096>Rinascita</a>'s Blessed Maiden, the "Fleurdelys" spoken of by all. Fate can be too kind at first, only to become a rain that never stops falling.
Hand puppets locked in a scuffle. She had searched the tower for what felt like forever, yet found no trace of another soul. So she made puppets, staging play after play, just to keep from forgetting how to speak, and to fill the silence of being alone. She missed the plays she had seen in the world of the living, missed the wheat fields of the countryside, missed sweet drinks and the sounds of people laughing. Fate can fill us with nostalgia, even as it sends us onward alone.
A retired dramatist enjoys telling a certain story: Once upon a time, in the countryside of Egla Town, there was a wandering knight. With sword in hand, he journeyed far and wide in search of a legendary giant. A giant who stood as tall as a windmill, with arms long and slender like its blades. Time after time, the wandering knight fought with everything he had against the giant, but the giant never spoke a word, only ever waving its arms, rendering the knight's attacks futile. Some mocked the knight's foolishness, some pitied his delusion. After all, that so-called giant was nothing more than a windmill, and his battles were but a fantasy. But the countryside's most mischievous girl saw it differently. She found herself a knight's helmet and begged the dramatist for a small wooden sword. "To fight for such a giant," she said, "he must possess a heart of pure nobility." And so, she too wished to be like the knight, to seek out the giant who destroyed homes and scattered livestock, and see that the Golden Thiefbats lurking along roads could no longer steal a single treasure from travelers. Riding flamboyantly on a Tumbleyak, she raced through the wheat fields. The world had never felt so vast. This was where the Blessed Maiden's legends began. Through the fields, through the festivities, and into the Inverted Tower. It would be a grand quest.