The entire Dunkirkshire Empire blossomed like a bride in her finest hour, every street, spire, and square draped in cascades of crimson silk banners embroidered with golden lions, divine light, and dragons—the new imperial emblem—fluttering in the breeze.
Garlands of rare white lilies and crimson-golden roses wove through archways, while fountains bubbled with scented waters infused with jasmine and myrrh.
Crystal lanterns hung from every balcony, catching the sun in prismatic bursts, and long tables groaned under free feasts of roasted pheasant, honey-glazed fruits, spiced wines, and loaves baked fresh that morning. The air thrummed with celebration, inviting commoners and nobles alike to revel in the empire's rebirth.
Caroline rose from her throne, resplendent in her new emperor's robes—a masterpiece of imperial finery. The deep velvet mantle, dyed the richest imperial purple, flowed like liquid night to the balcony floor, its high collar framed in ermine fur.
