Chapter 37 – Festival and Aftermath

Chapter 37 – Festival and Aftermath

“Seris, doesn’t this chocolate crepe look delicious?”

“Hmph.”

“Say ah.”

“Ah.”

The crepe was still warm, the thin pastry folded over glossy melted chocolate that scented the air with a rich sweetness. Liria held it carefully, angling it just right so it would not drip, and guided it toward Seris’s mouth.

“Forgive Big Sis?”

“Hmph.”

But Seris opened her mouth again anyway.

They wandered the market stalls together, drifting with the slow current of the crowd. As “punishment” for her earlier “betrayal,” Liria now had to carry Seris everywhere. The child nestled against her like a giant teddy bear, soft and warm through the layers of her robes, her cheek pressed against Liria’s shoulder as though that was the most natural place in the world to be.

Her small hands clutched at Liria’s collar, fingers curling and uncurling whenever something caught her attention. Every now and then, she shifted slightly, adjusting herself to be more comfortable, and each time Liria instinctively tightened her hold.

Was this right?

Despite everything, The Festival of Flowers was still in full swing.

Petals drifted through the air in lazy spirals, catching in hair and clothing. Strings of lanterns swayed overhead, casting soft golden light that blurred the edges of everything into something dreamlike. Music filled the streets, flutes and lutes weaving through laughter and conversation, while the scent of roasted meats, fresh pastries, and candied fruits hung thick in the air.

A troupe of performers passed by, their sleeves trailing ribbons of colored light that curled and danced behind them. One of them spun in place, scattering glowing petals that dissolved before they touched the ground. Children ran after the fading lights, laughing as they tried to catch something that would not stay.

The only thing that had changed were the paladins.

They stood at every corner, their armor polished to a mirror sheen that reflected the festival lights in sharp flashes. Their expressions were stern, but their presence did little to dampen the mood.

One of them caught a tossed flower crown from a passing child, blinked in surprise, then carefully placed it atop his helmet. The nearby crowd burst into laughter, and even he seemed to relax slightly.

Above, layers of security and surveillance arrays shimmered faintly across the sky, intricate patterns that only revealed themselves when the light struck at certain angles.

And above even that, mages flew patrol.

Some rode brooms. Others stood upon floating carpets that rippled gently beneath their feet. One drifted past seated comfortably in an upholstered chair, a book open in his lap. Another lounged on what appeared to be a conjured couch, lazily scanning the streets below while sipping from a cup that refilled itself.

Swords, staves, enchanted implements of every kind hovered at the ready beside them.

…was this right?

Below the city, deep in the underlayers of Elysium, elite adventurers combed through the undercity. Their task was clear. Remove anything deemed dangerous. Remove anything that could threaten the fragile peace.

Above them, the festival continued without pause.

If anything, the crowds had grown thicker. Visitors had poured in from across the world, hoping to catch a glimpse of their Goddess. They laughed, they danced, they spent coin with reckless enthusiasm.

They celebrated.

Banners bearing Liria’s likeness hung from balconies and archways, rendered in idealized brushstrokes. In each one, she looked serene, radiant, unmistakably divine.

Hymns filled the air.

They played from enchanted devices placed throughout the city, their melodies looping endlessly. Voices rose in reverent harmony, singing praises to “the Great and Merciful Mother, Liria.”

Liria’s cheeks burned.

This could not possibly be right.

“Isn’t this strange?”

She forced herself to speak as she paid for a pistachio ice cream cone, handing over the coins with slightly stiff fingers.

“Haven’t you all heard the Lord’s confession? Why is the festival going on as if nothing had ever happened?”

The vendor blinked at her, then frowned as if she had said something deeply unreasonable.

“Of course it must go on!”

His voice rose, full of conviction. He gestured broadly with his scoop, nearly flinging a bit of ice cream onto the counter.

“This festival celebrates the Divine Mother herself. She descended to save us with her own hands! The Saintess of Light is here as well. Why would we stop now?”

He leaned forward, lowering his voice just slightly, though the intensity remained.

“The people of Elysium are not cowards.”

“Hear, hear!”

“That’s right!”

Others in line nodded, their agreement immediate and unhesitating. A woman with a basket of flowers clutched it tighter, her expression firm. A young man raised his drink in a cheerful salute.

“But…” Liria hesitated. “Aren’t you worried at all?”

They looked at her as though she had said something incomprehensible.

“The Goddess of Life herself is here,” the vendor said, as if explaining something painfully obvious. “And several High Elven lords besides. Is there any place safer than Elysium right now?”

“Party first!” the slightly tipsy young man declared, swaying where he stood. “Worry later!”

“Yea!”

Laughter followed.

…was that how it was?

A small tug on her robe pulled her from her thoughts.

“Ah,” said Seris, imperious and expectant.

Liria blinked, then obediently brought the ice cream cone to Seris’s mouth. The cool sweetness contrasted with the lingering warmth of the crepe, and Seris let out a quiet, satisfied hum.

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When Liria glanced up again, several people were staring at her.

One woman covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she tried not to laugh. A pair of teenagers whispered to each other, eyes darting between Liria and the child in her arms.

Heat rushed to Liria’s face.

She hurried away.

“Aren’t you embarrassed at all?” she asked under her breath.

“No one knows it’s Seris,” Seris replied proudly, licking a trace of pistachio from her lip. “So it’s completely fine.”

She even puffed out her chest, as if this were a perfectly sound argument.

Liria could not help it. A smile slipped onto her lips.

The tension in her chest eased, just a little.

They moved on, the noise of the festival swelling around them once more. Liria let herself sink into it, focusing on the warmth of the sun filtering through the petals, the steady rhythm of Seris’s breathing against her shoulder, the simple act of walking forward.

As long as Seris was by her side, she could feel at peace.

They eventually found a quiet bench beneath a row of blooming cherry blossoms.

Petals fell in a slow, steady drift, gathering on the ground like a soft pink carpet. The air here was gentler, touched by the faint fragrance of the blossoms and the distant murmur of the crowd.

Liria sat, adjusting Seris carefully so she rested comfortably in her lap. The wood of the bench was warm from the sun, and a light breeze stirred the hem of her robes.

A young couple passed by, their conversation growing louder as they approached.

“All I’m saying is that Lord Caspian ruled well for over twenty years,” the young man insisted. “His family has protected Elysium for generations. There should be some leniency.”

His companion shook her head immediately.

“He was doing his duty,” she said. “Our taxes support him. Our loyalty empowers him. Protecting us is the bare minimum expected of someone in his position.”

Her voice sharpened slightly.

“He failed. Completely. If not for divine intervention, we would be in ruins right now. He has to take responsibility.”

The young man hesitated, then sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I just think… it’s not so simple.”

Their voices faded as they continued down the path, leaving behind only the rustle of petals.

Liria watched them go, then glanced down at Seris.

For someone who was supposedly still “angry,” Seris remained firmly attached to her. One small hand had found its way back into Liria’s sleeve, fingers curled tightly as if anchoring herself.