Something inside her felt strangely heavy.
The speaker waited until the laughter faded before spreading both arms toward the square. "But our kingdom did not fall. For when one king abandoned the crown..." His voice thundered across the square. "...another chose to bear it."
The drums rolled, royal banners unfurled from the surrounding buildings, and golden confetti drifted through the air as the speaker raised his voice once more.
"Our beloved sovereign! His Majesty, King Eliodan Aurelius Balder! The king who gathered a shattered army, led the final charge, drove back the southern invaders, and secured the peace we still cherish today!"
The square erupted. "Long live the King! Long live His Majesty! Long live the savior!"
The cheers grew deafening as Sikakama glanced around, taking in the faces shining with admiration and the voices praising the reigning king as though no greater hero had ever lived.
Slowly, she turned her gaze back toward the ruined monument. Rotten egg yolk dripped from the stone warrior's chin, tomato skins clung to its weathered armor, and the birds that had perched upon it only moments ago had already taken flight. Her eyes settled on the great sword held firmly in the statue's hands. Despite everything, it still looked magnificent; for a fleeting moment, it even looked real.
Sikakama quietly turned away.
"And now..." The master of ceremonies' voice echoed across the square once more. "A tale every child in Solarian knows—the tale of the legendary sword."
She froze before slowly turning back toward the stage, her blue eyes lifting toward it once again.
The legendary sword.
A trumpet sounded, and the curtains parted to reveal a trembling king stumbling onto the stage as laughter rippled through the audience. Moments later, a knight marched in carrying an ornate sword in both hands.
Sikakama's heart skipped a beat. The scabbard gleamed beneath the morning sun, and the hilt looked ancient enough that, for one fleeting instant, the sword seemed real.
The knight knelt before the king. "Your Majesty. The legendary sword—the blade destined to save the kingdom."
The false king grimaced with theatrical reluctance. "Oh... must I?"
With exaggerated hesitation, he grasped the hilt and slowly drew the sword from its scabbard.
The blade slid free.
Wood.
Painted silver.
Crooked.
A knot in the middle made it look even more ridiculous, and the square erupted with laughter.
The king stared at it in disbelief. "This is the legendary sword?"
He gave it a single swing, but the wooden blade wobbled limply through the air, provoking another wave of laughter before—
Crack.
The blade snapped cleanly in half.
The children doubled over laughing as the king tossed the broken sword aside and brushed the dust from his sleeves. "If this is the kingdom's greatest treasure... I'd rather fight with a broom."
Thunderous applause echoed across the square, but Sikakama did not laugh. Her eyes remained fixed on the broken wooden sword as the hope that had drawn her back to the stage quietly faded. Even here, the legendary sword existed only as a joke.
She lowered her gaze and turned away once more.
Suddenly, a small figure burst through the crowd, moving far too quickly for his size. He slipped effortlessly between the adults, weaving through narrow gaps with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times before; one moment he was there, and the next he had vanished behind someone else.
A furious shout erupted from somewhere behind him. "Stop him! Thief!"
A city guard forced his way through the crowd, answering the merchant's cries, but the boy glanced back over his shoulder and, because he wasn't watching where he was going, crashed straight into Sikakama.
The impact sent them both stumbling. He lost his footing and fell onto the cobblestones, his worn cloth bag slipping from his grasp as apples scattered across the street. He immediately dropped to his knees and began gathering them with trembling hands.
Sikakama looked down at him. He seemed younger than she was, with a worn brown cap pulled low over his forehead, hiding most of his eyes beneath its brim, while an oversized coat hung loosely from his narrow shoulders and made him appear even smaller. The only feature she could clearly make out was the small mole beneath his left eye.
"There he is!"
The guard was getting closer.
Without hesitation, Sikakama seized the boy by the wrist. "Run."
She pulled him to his feet and took off, her black hair streaming behind her as she tightened her grip around his wrist. Milo followed in silence, barely able to comprehend what was happening, his attention fixed on the girl dragging him forward.
Together, they slipped into the crowd, weaving between startled pedestrians until they disappeared behind an old stone wall. The guard rushed past without noticing them, and only then did Sikakama release Milo's wrist.
Her eyes fell on the cloth bag still clutched in his hands. Without a word, she took it from him and turned back toward the fruit stall.
His eyes widened. "What are you doing?"
"I'm taking it back."
The color drained from his face. "Are you crazy? You can't go back there!"
She gave no reply, leaving him to stare after her in disbelief.
"...No..."
But she was already gone.
Sikakama approached the fruit stall and stopped before it, only for the merchant's rough hand to suddenly clamp around her wrist and jerk her toward him.
"I've got you!"
His face burned crimson with rage, like a predator that had finally caught its prey, while Sikakama tried to explain, "I was only returning—"
"Returning?" He let out a mocking laugh. "You thieves always have a story."
He snatched the bag from her hand and turned toward the square, roaring, "So you're the other thief! Guards! I've caught the thief!"
His sweaty grip tightened painfully around her wrist.
Only then did Sikakama realize the predicament she had walked into.
From behind the stone wall, Milo watched everything unfold, guilt twisting inside his chest. He reached into his oversized coat and pulled out a single match, then, keeping low, slipped silently behind the merchant's legs and struck it against the stone.
A tiny flame sprang to life. Without hesitation, Milo touched it to the cuff of his own trousers, and the fabric caught almost instantly. The moment the heat reached his leg, he let out a startled yelp and began hopping wildly as the flames spread.
"My leg!"
The merchant instinctively released Sikakama and rushed toward the frantic boy, grabbing a nearby bucket of water and plunging Milo's burning leg into it.
Before Sikakama could even understand what had happened, a small hand seized hers. "Come on!"
The boy pulled her away, and together they disappeared into the maze of streets.
Milo darted into a narrow passage squeezed between the back walls of two buildings, barely wide enough for a child to pass sideways. At the far end, a jumble of crates and broken barrels made it appear to be a dead end, but he dropped to one knee, shoved aside a small crate, and revealed a narrow opening beneath a low stone arch.
"Crawl."
He slipped through first, and Sikakama followed without hesitation. They crawled one after the other through the cramped passage until it opened into a secluded courtyard hidden behind the surrounding buildings.
Milo scratched the side of his nose with his thumb, sounding far more confident than his age suggested. "They won't find us here."
A loud growl came from Sikakama's stomach, sounding almost as though it were trying to devour itself.
Milo reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a single apple before tossing it toward her. She caught it with both hands and stared at it.
"I managed to keep this one," the boy said with a grin.
Sikakama looked from the apple to Milo.
"Go on. One won't hurt."
The apple was bright red, its skin polished and fresh. Her hunger finally overcame her hesitation, and she raised it to her lips and took a bite.
It was sweeter than she had expected.
Milo smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Milo."
She looked at him for a moment before answering quietly, "I'm Sikakama."
"Sikakama... that's all?" Milo asked, blinking in surprise.
She nodded once.
Something clicked in his mind, and a small smile spread across his face. "Then... you don't have parents either."
Sikakama looked up. "...What?"
Milo shrugged. "People around here who don't have a family name... usually don't have a family."
He smiled again. "...Just like me."