Outside the palace, several people had gathered. The building rose in the distance, imposing and solemn, its sheer presence dominating the surroundings. Before reaching the main structure, the grounds were enclosed by a large iron gate that prevented direct access while still allowing a clear view inside.
The gate was tall, formed by solid, carefully crafted bars darkened by the passage of time. Its ornamental details reflected authority and status. It did not convey neglect, but control: a clear boundary between the outside world and the power safeguarded within. Through it, the interior of the compound lay fully exposed to view.
Beyond the gate stretched a wide expanse of greenery, resembling a meticulously maintained garden. Trees with dense canopies rose on both sides, casting soft shadows over a well-defined path that began at the entrance and led straight to the palace doors.
At various points within the grounds, guards stood stationed, firm and alert, observing everything around them with disciplined attention. Near them, other figures moved with restrained urgency, finalizing preparations: adjusting decorations, checking access points, refining details. The place was preparing to receive its guests.
The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, as if the space itself were holding its breath.
Throughout the city, the celebration was the shared expectation of all. In recent days, it had become an omnipresent topic, seeping into every corner. In restaurants, tables filled not only with food but with excited voices repeating the same news. Between steaming dishes and raised cups, diners spoke of the victory, exaggerated rumors, and wondered just how grand the event would be.
In the streets, the murmur never ceased. Merchants commented on the triumph while arranging their stalls; travelers paused to listen, then carried the story onward. The name of the Yu Dynasty was spoken with pride, while that of the Mo Dynasty carried barely concealed disdain.
The same happened in the lodgings. In halls and courtyards, amid the sound of luggage and footsteps, guests exchanged versions of the event: the defeated general, the fallen troops, the territories that had changed hands. Some spoke with admiration, others with caution, but everyone spoke.
Even on the outskirts of the city, the rumor persisted. Near the palace gates, several people stopped to observe the interior while discussing the approaching celebration, words blending with expectant glances.
At the entrance, two people spoke in low voices, their enthusiasm evident.
That was when Daverion approached, walking with the same calm that always characterized him. The conversation continued uninterrupted, carried along by the general anticipation.
One of the men was tall, with a solid build and a weathered appearance. His unkempt beard and marked features made him look older; he was around thirty. His name was Mateo. The other, Dael, was barely twenty-three, broad-shouldered and pleasant-faced, with a clear energy in his eyes.
"I'm sure we'll see truly important people today," Dael said, keeping his eyes fixed on the gates. "People you normally never get to see up close."
Mateo nodded, a restrained smile forming.
"Just thinking about it is exciting," he replied. "It would be incredible if one of them even greeted us."
As he spoke, his hands tightened around the bars, as if the gesture could bring him a little closer to whatever lay beyond.
Dael slowly shook his head.
"That would be difficult. People like that don't usually pay attention to people like us."
"And why do you think that?" Daverion asked calmly.
Both turned at the same time.
Daverion's presence imposed itself without effort. His posture was serene, steady. Their demeanor shifted immediately, becoming attentive.
"Friend," Dael said politely, "you must not be from around here. At this celebration, the highest figures of the dynasty will attend. They say two of the five generals will be present. Influential, powerful people. For mortals like us, interacting with them is almost impossible."
Mateo sighed.
"I would give anything just to greet one of them. They're truly important people."
Daverion observed them quietly. There was curiosity in his gaze… and a faint trace of concern.
People worry about such small things, he thought.
A soft laugh escaped his lips.
"I'd like to meet one of them as well."
There was no mockery in his expression.
"It's not that simple," Mateo replied. "They stand at the top of the dynasty."
"Exactly," Dael added. "Even you, with that presence of yours, would have a hard time."
Mateo seemed encouraged.
"But at least we can wait here. Everyone will be received at the entrance. If you stay, you'll surely see them arrive."
"Alright," Daverion said. "I'll sit on that chair."
He took a seat and, with the same calm, pulled out the book he had taken from the library. He continued reading about the Yu Dynasty as the area gradually filled with people.
The space before the palace transformed. Street stalls appeared: improvised tables, small carts, stretched fabrics. The air filled with the scent of warm bread, sliced fruit, freshly pressed juices, sweets, and ice cream.
Daverion lifted his gaze for a moment.
He thought it wouldn't hurt to try something.
He bought a sandwich, a juice, and a frozen dessert.
"What flavor would you like, young man?" the old vendor asked.
"Strawberry."
"Good choice."
Daverion returned to his seat and resumed reading.
It wasn't long before two children appeared nearby, running and laughing, pushing each other playfully. They played without paying attention to anything… until they noticed the ice cream in Daverion's hand.
They stopped.
Stared at it.
Swallowed almost at the same time.
Daverion looked up and observed them.
Before they could say anything, he took a couple of quick bites, making his message clear.
"What are you looking at?" he asked calmly. "It's mine."
The children didn't look away.
Daverion let out a faint sigh.
"I'm not giving you any. Buy your own."
He took out two coins and handed them over.
"Go."
At that moment, the children's parents, who had noticed them near a stranger, grew alarmed and hurried over.
"Excuse us, sir," the mother said anxiously. "We hope our children haven't bothered you."
"They didn't do anything," Daverion replied, unconcerned.
The parents relaxed, but when they noticed the coins in the children's hands, their worry returned.
"Give the coins back to the gentleman," the father ordered.
"But mom… we want ice cream," the older one protested.
"Yeah, me too," the younger added, glancing at Daverion's dessert.
Before the discussion could continue, Daverion spoke.
"They're just coins," he said. "Let them keep them."
The father hesitated, then inclined his head.
"Thank you, sir."
The parents took the children to buy their ice cream, then looked for a place with a good view. Their children had insisted on coming for days; they wanted to see the two generals.
That was why they were there.
As the adults searched for somewhere to sit, the children ran back and sat beside Daverion, one on each side.
Daverion looked at them… and said nothing.
He let them be.
The children ate their ice cream with obvious happiness, smearing their lips, laughing without worry.
The parents returned and apologized again.
"It doesn't bother me," Daverion said simply.
There was an empty chair beside him. The parents sat there, attentive to ensure their children behaved.
The children offered Daverion a bit of their ice cream.
He shook his head.
He opened his book again and continued reading.
Around him, the children ran, jumped, wandered off and returned… but above all, they played at being generals, giving imaginary orders, raising their arms, marching with exaggerated seriousness.
Daverion read.
And allowed that small happiness to exist.
He stopped at a specific passage in the book and read it again, not because it was complex, but because it was too simple.
The Chronicles of the Yu Dynasty described their rise with an almost bureaucratic calm. For centuries, a minor house, stable yet irrelevant. Then, within the span of a single year, precise reforms, timely alliances, correct decisions. At the end of that cycle, the dynasty stood among the four most powerful on the planet.
Nothing more.
There was no mention of decisive wars, no catastrophes, no sacrifices that left a mark. Power had arrived without friction, as if the world itself had adjusted to make room.
Daverion turned the pages unhurriedly. Before that year, the Yu argued, erred, hesitated. Afterward, their decisions were continuous, coherent, almost inevitable. The names remained, but the nuances faded.
It was not a serious anomaly. Not enough to draw the attention of palace chroniclers.
For him, however, the pattern was clear.
"You are not the same," Daverion murmured, unaware he had spoken aloud.
He closed the book calmly. The Yu Dynasty stirred a bit of interest. Something had changed without breaking anything, and that kind of change was rarely accidental.
No decisive wars. No visible sacrifices.
The world had simply made space.
The celebration was nothing more than a pretext. The defeat of the Mo Dynasty's general was enough to justify it.
The Yu Dynasty did not need to display itself. Among the four, it was probably the most powerful… and yet it maintained a low profile.
"A well-built façade," he murmured.
For a moment, everything returned to distant noise: voices, children's laughter, the murmur of the crowd before the palace. The world continued on its course with absolute normality.
Daverion remained still. Not because he doubted, but because he waited to confirm a barely perceptible sensation, a slight dissonance that did not belong to the surroundings.
Then he felt it.
It was neither a sound nor an image, but a subtle alteration, a minor shift at a point only he could perceive. Something was no longer exactly where it should be.
His attention moved without haste.
Within his storage space, a chess piece had changed position.
The movement was recent. Precise. It did not follow any of the board's usual dynamics.
Daverion reacted immediately. He made no grand or theatrical gesture; he simply extended his hand, and the space before him yielded in silence, revealing the isolated fragment where he stored his possessions. To anyone watching, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
Inside, among countless motionless objects, rested the board.
The piece now occupied a new square. It did not advance toward direct confrontation, nor did it seek immediate dominance. Its mere presence altered the entire balance.
Daverion observed it for several seconds.
He did not need to interpret the move to know what it implied.
A variable that should not have entered the game so soon… was approaching.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
With a calm gesture, the space closed once more, sealing itself as if it had never been disturbed.
"This celebration is going to be quite entertaining."