Seeing Randia looking more and more restless despite what he said, Viena also becomes uneasy. There is something that she had always asked him ever since they had traveled together for more than 4 months and traversed the countryside road for more than 1.400 Km in total. Maybe, this time Randia will answer truthfully.

"Hey, why do you dislike people so much? Is being only by yourself that fun? Won't you feel lonely?"

"I'm not lonely. I simply seek solitude."

"Huh? What's the difference?"

"Solitude is a choice."

"Hmm . . . If you are constantly traveling and moving from place to place, then, being away from people or haven't got the time to spend with some doesn't sound like too much of a choice."

"That premise will become invalid the second I decide to settle in a place somewhere, and that's my choice to make. That's why it's solitude."

Though Viena doesn't understand some difficult words that Randia uses, she gets the main idea. However, his answer doesn't satisfy her. That just doesn't sound fair to her. Typical for a little kid to always want to win, even in an argument.

"How long have you been traveling? Before I came with you of course."

"Why do you ask?"

"Just answer it, will you?!" Viena tapped Randia's thigh with the end of her skewer's stick.

". . . Fifteen years or so."

"And how long is the longest time you stay in one place?"

"Fifteen . . . days . . . ? Who would remember such trivialities?"

"As I thought! See?! At this rate, you'll never settle anywhere!"

"Sigh. What is it that you wanted to say?"

Viena took Randia's hand which holds the last skewer from Randia, and chewed the top slice of the juicy roasted quail meat.

"What I'm trying to say is that since you insist you are not lonely, but looking for solitude, why don't you try to prove it by settling in a place for a while?"

Hearing Viena's suggestion, Randia scoffed.

"I see. I think you've become a little bit smarter in talking your way into something. Basically, you want us to stay here for a long time."

"Yes! I know you would understand! Think about it, this place is so awesome! You can find anything you need here!"

"No."

"But why?!"

When Randia and Viena are busy squabbling about whether they should try to settle in Fleurin for almost half an hour, suddenly, people are gathering not far from where they are. They stood in a line, seemingly waiting for something. Then, a moment later, Rosmayne knights are coming in from the main gate, making way for something.

"Papa! Everyone is going there! Let's take a look!"

"Why should we? Just let them be."

"PAPA!"

Randia let out a big breath as he lifted up the angry Viena into his arms. He moves lazily, despite Viena nagging him to walk faster and go after the crowds. When they arrived at where people were gathering, they were standing at the side of the main road, at the rear of the lining onlookers. Randia puts down his hood and Viena's as well. They must not attract any attention from the knights on patrol.

Soon the cavalcade came into sight. Now, Randia can see from afar what the knights are safeguarding. There are roughly fifteen carriages on a parade. Twelve of the fifteen carriages bear a unique flag to each other. They are embellished and adorned with patterns that only people who have traveled abroad Rosmayne could recognize.

"T-That . . .," Randia speaks out loud in aghast.

"Hm? What is it? I can't see anything from here!"

When Viena climbed on Randia's shoulders, suddenly, the sound of trumpets startled everyone. They are blown by the guarding cavalry of the parade. Judging from the tone and the melodic sequence, the true citizens of Rosmayne easily understand right away that there are supremely honorable guests entering the inner capital.

"Greetings, O honorable Citizens of Flowers! Send your cheers and smiles to our friends from the neighboring lands! Greet them with the warmest heart and the most gracious excitement! Here come the delegations of peace from every sovereignity! The ambassadors of twelve realms!"

"There they are! Come quickly, uncle!"

"I hope there won't be any war anymore now that we are willing to accept each other."

"The knights are so cool!"

"This is silly. Outsiders in our land? The queen has lost it completely."

The citizens were feeling giddy, and as soon as the herald finished her announcement from her horse, everyone could hear the sound of tambourines playing. The Fleurin traditional bombards then intertwine, increasing the tempo of the orchestra into that fitting of zesty festivities. The epinettes and the dancers now take the step. They are swinging, spinning, and enchanting the whole area with their charm. The best troubadours of the City of Flowers are in full action, taking the stage for themselves and their lieges.

Viena can't help but clap her hands, mimicking the tempo of the music. She has heard of people playing instruments since traveling bards occasionally visit towns, even towns as rural as Londerstead. Yet, marching bands at this scale and level of harmony? Nay. Now, she is just like everyone else; couldn't take her eyes off the performers before her and lose herself in the flourishing joy.

The gorgeous blue-white dresses, shiny metallic instruments, and colorful roses sit in the pockets of each player, everything is over the top. The stomping sounds of boots as they march in unity, the senior opera singer with his hypnotizing tenor voice, and the charming waists of the women as they flaunt their frilly folk dance costumes around, everything is flawless. They are wearing their heart and soul as their dress.

"Papa! Papa! Look! Those dancers are making a big circle! They are spinning like crazy and not stopping even for a second! Will they throw up a lot after?"

"Ah, yes. That is the folk dance called the Polkan Dance from Szechia Province in the west. They are trained to do that and their body has adjusted to the rhythm and routine. They won't get dizzy from that. Probably."

The overjoyed Viena repeatedly called out to Randia, asking so many questions and letting out much laughter. Though, Randia is currently feeling even more anxious with all the crowds gathering, seeing Viena enjoying herself lessened the weight on his chest a little. He thinks that maybe he should go with the flow for now.

Many of the ambassadors are waving hands to the gathering Rosmesians, and some even become quite excited themselves that they trying to stick out their bodies from the window. Yet, despite the refreshing jubilant atmosphere, only one carriage doesn't even open its windows. It's the last carriage of the whole contingent, and no one has any idea why they would put such a gesture in an event where every delegate is supposed to look amiable.

The marching cavalcade continues until they reach the grand stairs of one of the most fabled architecture that Rosmayne is known for - The Thousand Mirror Royal Palace.

"The honorable ambassadors are now to step out from the carriages and proceed to the next agenda. The squires will escort you inside."

With all the masses still swarming around the grand stairs of the palace, the delegations are disembarking. They get off their carriages one by one. Each ambassador is welcomed with cheers and warm welcome by the people, as instructed by the officials many months prior to the event. 

When the time came for the last carriage to drop off their occupant, the sun entered the clouds. hiding. The blue sky is now slowly overcast and the wind is turning gale. Babies are crying for some reason and they are throwing tantrums like they had never been. The cheering and merriment turn into murmur and silence. All eyes are now fixed on the door that is opening.

The door opens slowly as the howling wind finally blows the previously entangled flag on top of the carriage and shows the infamous red flag. No more question is asked when the people see the four-winged black Heyrim. It's the most known flag that even three-year-old toddlers can immediately recognize, for better or worse.

It's as if something seeps from the gap of the door - something malicious, something malignant, something that should not be allowed to be released into nature.

Then, finally, the shadow of the veil that previously hides the manly figure from the populace no longer hinders the view. Fathomless terror is unleashed with a single step of his feet, and a powerful aura darker than black surges with the wind. The bloodred cape, the scarred face, the eyes of infinite nigritude, it wouldn't be exaggerating to say that every inch of his body foretold of the countless battles he fought and massacres he committed.

"Papa . . . Who is that ambassador? I don't like him."

.

.

.

". . . He is not an ambassador. He is an emperor."

Even at that moment, most people don't know who is the man that stands before them. However, in the presence of the notorious emperor, the intimidation aura is so strong that the crowds slowly bend their backs to him without them realizing it. Many of the civilians had already fallen on their knees, and the guards of the parade became limp and shivering in their steel. Even Viena hugs Randia tightly burying half of her face on Randia's shoulder while still curiously peeking at the emperor.

The masses succumb to their primal instinct of freeze, flee, or fight as if they are facing a mortal danger that aims right for their throat. The young squire who was supposed to escort the emperor breathed hard like he was choking. Then, not long after Ethelar Aramid walked down the steps, seemingly driven by his primal instinct, the squire lunged his sword at the monarch of Aramia and screamed at the top of his lung.

[Ting. Ting. Ting.]

All of a sudden, a sound that was similar to an iron triangle percussion echoed through the whole Fleurin. The young squire stopped in his tracks, frozen in place and unable to move.

"Ethelar Aramid, the champion of Omzun, the greatest conqueror of history, the mightiest and undisputable monarch of Aramia, sole and above all. I welcome you to Fleurin. I hope you can forgive us for the . . . nervous approach of the young squire. Although I must say that I would have arranged for a more appropriate and thoughtful greeting if you had informed us of your attendance beforehand."

Only a crown gets to stay toe to toe with another crown. The monarch of Rosmayne, Queen Catalina Rosalia entered the scene. Every soldier who was wavering and confused stood straight once more, and the masses stood back on their feet, feeling ashamed of giving the gesture of submission to another sovereign.

"T-That is Ethelar Aramid?"

"I heard he was a monster through and through."

"I will never forget what the Aramians did to my village!"

The cheering turns into a murmur in just a mere few minutes. Soon, the murmur is turning into something more. They turn into clamors filled with cursing words and heartbreaking stories. Mothers who lost their sons in the flame of war, widows who lost their loved ones, and children who wake up an orphan, start to shout and scream. They demanded that the foreign emperor leave their homeland at once.

It might be too late, but Randia knows it's time for him to get away from the riling-up masses as soon as possible.