She kept walking without once looking back.
The clean street gave way to another, while the flow of carriages and pedestrians split into different directions at the intersections like tangled threads. Sikakama never stopped to decide which way to go; she simply chose a pavement and kept walking, leaving her feet to carry her farther and farther away from the place she had left behind.
It wasn't that she knew where she was going.
Distance was all that mattered.
The sounds of the city grew louder. Soon, a lively melody reached her ears, carried by the bright sound of brass instruments and the steady beat of drums. Sikakama lifted her gaze and saw crimson banners fluttering high between the buildings, each bearing a radiant golden sun encircling a royal crown, with two majestic winged creatures, their powerful, beastly bodies guarding it from either side.
The street eventually opened onto a vast square.
Dawn Square.
It was overflowing with people.
Sikakama stopped at the edge of the street, her blue eyes wandering across the vast square on the other side. She had never seen so many people gathered in one place, and certainly never so many who seemed to be enjoying themselves like this.
"...Is this a festival?" Sikakama wondered as she gazed toward the bustling square.
Still distracted by the unfamiliar sight before her, she stepped off the pavement and began crossing the cobbled street toward the square.
"Watch where you're standing, girl!"
The sharp warning came as a coachman pulled hard on the reins, bringing his horse-drawn carriage, pulled by two large horses, to a halt only a short distance from Sikakama.
Only then did she realize how close the carriage had come. She hurried across the rest of the street and reached the other side, slipping into the crowd before the coachman could say anything more.
He watched her disappear, then let out a weary sigh and shook his head.
"Kids these days..." he muttered before flicking the reins and urging the carriage onward.
"Warm bread! Soft as a cloud!"
"Hot meat pies! Don't watch the celebration on an empty stomach!"
"Warm chestnuts! Drive the morning chill away!"
"Sweet pastries! Freshly baked!"
Voices rose from every corner of the square as merchants of every kind—plump and thin, young and old—leaned over their colorful stalls, raising their goods above the crowd while calling out to passing customers. Each voice fought to drown out the others, their endless cries weaving together into a lively chorus that seemed to belong to the square itself.
Some passersby stopped with amused smiles, exchanging coins for paper bags filled with food, while children eagerly tugged at their parents' sleeves and pointed toward the wooden swords displayed among the stalls. Others merely glanced at the merchants before continuing on their way, leaving the cheerful cries behind as they disappeared into the crowd.
Sikakama continued making her way through the crowd, her blue eyes drifting from one unfamiliar face to another. Graceful women with delicate features passed by in elegant dresses, exchanging quiet laughter, while gentlemen in long dark coats greeted familiar faces with warm smiles, tipping the hats they held in their gloved hands.
Surrounded by broad shoulders brushing against her from every direction, Sikakama suddenly felt very small as she struggled through the sea of people—a sea of unfamiliar faces and overlapping murmurs that pressed in on her senses from all sides, swelling into a mass of unpleasant noise that crowded her ears. She seemed to grow smaller and smaller and smaller until she felt like a tiny creature surrounded by towering bodies, and once again, that same feeling overcame her again: the feeling of being invisible amid a sea of strangers.
"The play is about to begin!"
"We should find a place before the crowd grows."
Children slipped between the adults, carrying wooden swords almost as tall as themselves.
The mingling aromas drifting through the square soon caught Sikakama's attention, and among them was a warm, buttery scent laced with the rich aroma of chocolate that stood out from the rest. Drawn toward it without thinking, she followed the aroma until she found herself standing before a bakery.
It was that same bakery.
She crouched in front of its large glass window, pulling her knees against her chest as she gazed at a large metal baking tray filled with freshly baked chocolate Chelsea buns. The buns were deep brown, each one rolled into a delicate spiral with dark ribbons of melted chocolate winding through its layers, while fine grains of sugar dusted their slightly glossy tops. They had been arranged tightly together in the same tray and baked as one pull-apart batch, their sides touching and lightly joined together, yet each spiral remained distinct enough to be separated by hand.
The bakery looked warm and inviting from the outside, while behind the counter stood a plump woman with kind features and a white apron tied around her waist. The shelves behind her were lined with freshly baked bread, cakes, and pastries, and whenever the door opened, another wave of warmth and delicious aromas drifted into the street.
Customers came and went, greeted by the woman with the same gentle smile as she carefully placed their purchases into brown paper bags.
Sikakama slipped one hand into her pocket, then the other, hoping to find even a single coin.
Nothing.
She pulled both pockets inside out and stared at them for a moment, but they were completely empty.
Her stomach tightened.
The buns were only a few steps away, close enough for her to see the grains of sugar scattered across their dark, glossy surfaces, yet they felt impossibly out of reach.
After remaining there for a while, Sikakama finally forced herself to look away from the window and disappeared once more into the moving crowd.
After remaining there for a while, Sikakama finally forced herself to look away from the window and disappeared once more into the moving crowd.
As she wandered through the square, something else gradually caught her attention.
At the center of the square stood a magnificent stone monument depicting a lone warrior clad in ornate armor, both hands resting atop the pommel of a great sword planted firmly into the earth. A royal cloak flowed behind him, and there was something about the calm expression carved into his face that made it seem almost as though the stone king were watching over the bustling square.
Sikakama found herself drawn toward it.
The old story echoed inside her mind.
A legendary sword.
A knight.
She had read that tale so many times. She knew every part of it by heart, yet as she stood before the monument, she found herself wondering whether stories like that were really nothing more than fiction.
Perhaps...
Perhaps they weren't.
Beside the monument stood a large wooden stage draped with the kingdom's crimson banners, and families had already begun gathering before it. Children laughed as they chased one another with wooden swords, pretending to be brave knights while their parents watched with patient smiles, as workers hurried around the stage and its surroundings to complete the final preparations.
One worker adjusted a hanging banner while another carried a wooden crate toward the base of the monument, and Sikakama was still trying to understand what was happening when a trumpet suddenly pierced the air.
The musicians fell silent, and the conversations throughout the square gradually faded until an expectant hush settled over Dawn Square.
Every eye turned toward the stage.
A man dressed in ceremonial robes slowly climbed the wooden steps, his dark hair neatly combed back from a stern face with sharp features, a straight nose, and a pair of thin, carefully groomed mustaches. Once he reached the top, his gaze swept across the sea of faces before a proud smile spread across his lips.
He stepped toward the front of the stage and slowly opened his arms, the wide sleeves of his ceremonial robe flowing with the movement.
"People of Pendralice... and loyal citizens from every corner of the Kingdom of Solarian!"
Thunderous applause erupted across the square, and Sikakama's gaze darted from side to side, taking in all those clapping hands surrounding her.
The man raised one hand, and the eager crowd gradually fell silent beneath his commanding gesture.
"Today, as is our sacred annual tradition, we gather once more to raise our goblets in celebration of another glorious year in the history of our beloved kingdom. Once again, we remind the world that the banner of Solarian still flies high—unbroken beneath an eternal sun."
His voice carried easily across the square, growing stronger as he continued.
"Who among us could ever forget the glorious triumph that brought the Kingdom of the Southeast to its knees? That fateful day when our noble knights shattered its mighty strongholds and shook its arrogant throne, engraving upon history an eternal truth: none who stand against the House of Balder shall endure. The shadows they harbored were purged by the radiance of our sacred light, and their armies crumbled before the unwavering will of Solarian."
A shaft of golden sunlight broke through the morning sky and bathed the speaker's face as he slowly raised one hand toward the heavens. For a fleeting moment, he seemed almost to be reaching for the sun itself before closing his hand into a firm fist with quiet resolve. His piercing hazel eyes caught the sunlight, gleaming with the warm luster of amber as his gaze swept over the gathered crowd.
"May Solarian forever remain the beacon that guides this world beneath an eternal sun, an unyielding fortress and an unrivaled power beneath the blessed reign of the House of Balder—the sovereigns who have defended our honor, safeguarded our prosperity, and bestowed lasting peace upon our realm."
He raised his voice in his final declaration, his expression filled with pride as he proclaimed, "Long live Solarian! Long live the House of Balder!"
His booming voice rolled across the square, and countless voices immediately joined in celebration.
"Long live Solarian!"
The applause and cheers continued for several moments before gradually fading.
Then the smile disappeared from the speaker's face.
He lowered his hand, and whatever warmth had remained in his expression seemed to drain away. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, yet somehow heavier, forcing the crowd to listen.
"Yet before we honor the overwhelming glory and prosperity we enjoy today..."
He allowed the words to linger for a moment before continuing.
"...we must remember the king whose weakness nearly destroyed it."
The crowd lowered their heads, already anticipating the familiar ending.
The speaker slowly turned toward the towering monument at the center of the square.
"King Argon II Aurelian Balder."
"When the armies descended upon our homeland..."
"When the fate of our kingdom hung by a thread..."
"When our soldiers bled upon the battlefield..."
He paused for a moment.
"...their king fled."
The silence deepened.
"History remembers those who stand beside their people..."
His gaze remained fixed upon the monument as he continued in a solemn voice.
"...and those who disappear when they are needed most."
He lowered his head for a brief moment, allowing another moment of silence to pass before delivering the final words.
"And history passed its own judgment."
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Sikakama stared at the monument, and the heroic king she had imagined only moments ago suddenly felt impossibly distant.
Then a child's voice broke the silence.
"My father says he ran away crying!"
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Someone shouted, "Coward!"
Another voice quickly joined in.
"Coward!"
A rotten tomato flew through the air and struck the statue's breastplate with a wet splat, its remains sliding down the stone armor. A second followed, then a third, and within moments rotten eggs and bruised vegetables began raining toward the monument from every direction.
Crack.
An egg shattered against the stone face, its yellow yolk slowly trickling down one cold cheek.
Some adults spat toward the monument before hurling whatever they carried, their voices rising above the chaos.
"Coward!"
"You abandoned us!"
"You never deserved the crown!"
Sikakama slowly let her gaze wander across the crowd.
People laughed.
Children pointed.
Others spat toward the monument before throwing whatever they held in their hands.
Yet amid all those caught up in the frenzy, one person remained untouched by it.
Only a few steps away from Sikakama stood a lone figure wrapped in a weathered brown cloak, his face half-hidden beneath a lowered hood. He neither laughed nor spoke, nor did he move as the celebration around him descended into mockery and chaos, as though the spectacle unfolding before his eyes were something he had witnessed long ago.
For a brief moment, Sikakama found herself staring at the silent stranger.
Then she slowly turned her gaze back toward the monument.
Her blue eyes widened as another tomato burst against the stone sword, staining the statue with its rotten remains.
The monument that had filled her with awe only moments before was now covered in rotten food.