The city's celebrations persisted for three more days, vibrant and relentless. Bonfires flickered brightly in the squares, banners fluttered fiercely in the wind, and the royal orchestras played tirelessly from dawn until late into the night. The people of the capital, bruised, grieving, yet resilient, danced amidst the ruins of their old certainties, embracing hope and renewal.
The hero of the hour was honored, and the traitors were finally purged. For a brief, fragile moment, it seemed as though the world could be rebuilt from the ashes.
Meanwhile, inside the manor, there was no joy, only silence. A heavy quiet settled over the room, marked by the somber realization of what lay ahead.
The packing began on the second day.
