Chapter 58: Festival Street

Today, the Emperor seemed somewhat strange, more so than usual.

His unexpected arrival at my quarters was puzzling enough, but then he immediately launched into an interrogation about my relationship with Sir Kerip.

His questions were pointed, almost accusatory, hinting at an underlying tension I couldn’t quite grasp.

After delivering a volley of unpleasant remarks, he departed as abruptly as he had appeared, leaving a lingering sense of discomfort in his wake.

“He didn’t seem to have any particular business. Why did he come?”

I murmured to myself, the question hanging in the air.

The imperial palace, I knew, was currently a hive of activity, practically bursting at the seams with people seeking an audience with the Emperor.

The aftermath of the hunting festival had brought forth a flood of petitioners and dignitaries, leaving no room to step within its hallowed halls.

Given such a chaotic and demanding situation, for him to specifically seek me out, simply to pick a fight and stir up trouble, was utterly baffling.

It felt like an intentional act, a deliberate attempt to assert some kind of dominance or to unsettle me.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his visit than met the eye, a hidden agenda perhaps, or simply a display of his unpredictable nature.

Thinking about it, ever since I had escaped the labyrinth, my life had been inextricably linked with hers.

Perry had been a constant, comforting presence, a steadfast companion through every waking and sleeping moment.

Whether I was enjoying a meal or simply resting, her presence was always right by my side, a silent anchor in my tumultuous new reality.

Recalling that undeniable fact now, a wave of profound melancholy washed over me, threatening to pull me under.

The void left by her absence felt immense, almost unbearable.

‘Don’t weaken, Mayhen! You need to pull yourself together.’

I admonished myself, my inner voice a desperate plea for strength.

This was not the time for emotional fragility.

Now, more than ever, I needed to stay focused, to steel my resolve and maintain a clear head.

Only by doing so could I ensure that when a critical situation inevitably arose, I wouldn’t stumble or make a disastrous mistake.

My very survival, and perhaps more, depended on it.

Yet, despite my firm resolve, a series of weary sighs kept escaping my lips, betraying the deep-seated sadness that gnawed at my spirit.

Each breath felt heavy, burdened by the absence of the one I had come to rely on so completely.

The silence around me, once filled with her quiet companionship, now echoed with a profound emptiness.

The next day dawned, and as soon as my eyes opened, I headed directly to the morning banquet hall.

A subtle but noticeable shift had occurred around me.

Perhaps it was a direct consequence of the recent unsettling events, but there were now more people guarding me than before.

The increase in my security detail was evident, a clear sign that the palace was taking the recent disturbances seriously.

However, a more significant change struck me.

The familiar faces of Sir Veratri and Sir Walton, who had so often served as my reliable escorts, were nowhere to be seen.

In their stead were entirely new individuals, unfamiliar faces that offered no comfort.

With Perry also absent, and now surrounded by these strangers, a deep sense of loneliness began to creep in, wrapping itself around me like a cold shroud.

The bustling hall, filled with murmurs and the clinking of cutlery, suddenly felt isolating.

‘Where did those two go?’

I wondered, my gaze sweeping across the room in a futile search for the knights who had offered me a sense of security.

Their absence, combined with Perry’s, created a palpable sense of unease.

When I arrived at the banquet hall, the Emperor had already taken his seat.

He was deep in thought, his face etched with a troubled expression, his brow furrowed in concentration.

He seemed so engrossed in his contemplations that he only registered my presence and looked up when I finally settled into my own seat.

“When did you arrive?” he inquired, his voice a low rumble.

“Just now. Did you sleep well?”

I replied, attempting to inject a touch of normalcy into the morning, despite the lingering awkwardness from his visit yesterday.

“Me, well. What about you?” he countered, his gaze unwavering.

“Me too, well…”

I mumbled, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.

In truth, I had spent a significant portion of the early morning hours tossing and turning, unable to find restful sleep.

The profound impact of Perry not being with me, as she always had been when I slept, was far greater than I could have ever anticipated.

Her absence was a constant, gnawing ache.

I stirred my soup with my spoon, my appetite utterly gone, when the Emperor’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the hall, bringing with it a chilling piece of information.

“Recently, there’s a rumor that a certain smuggler brought a strange medicine from a foreign country,” he began, his tone serious.

“A strange medicine?”

I echoed, my spoon pausing mid-stir, my curiosity piqued despite my lack of hunger.

“They say he went around proclaiming that if you take this medicine, you can become an immortal warrior who cannot die,” he elaborated, his words painting a disturbing picture.

His description immediately brought to mind the horrifying image of the horses that had charged at us during the hunting festival.

Those creatures had been terrifyingly resilient, continuing their frenzied assault even as they were cut and stabbed by the imperial knights’ swords, their blood staining the ground.

They had not stopped, but instead had become even more frenzied, a truly unnatural spectacle.

“Could it be that they used that medicine on the animals?”

I asked, a cold dread beginning to settle in my stomach.

The thought was horrifying, the implications even more so.

“Probably,” he confirmed, his voice grave.

“But the smuggler who handled that medicine disappeared right before the hunting festival. Vanished without a trace.”

“Then… what do we do? Is there no way to find him?”

I pressed, a flicker of desperation entering my voice.

If this medicine was indeed behind the terrifying events of the hunting festival, then finding its source was paramount.

“There’s a high probability he was disposed of after serving his purpose,” the Emperor stated matter-of-factly, his words chilling in their casual brutality.

“Used up and discarded. The good news is that the smuggler’s younger sibling is still alive.”

This revelation offered a glimmer of hope.

If the sibling was alive, it might just be an opportunity, a crucial thread, to find a clue related to this incident.

My gaze snapped to the Emperor, my eyes filled with newfound hope, and he responded with a faint, sweet smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

It was a calculating smile, one that hinted at a plan already in motion.

“In that sense,” he continued, his voice taking on a subtly conspiratorial tone, “there’s a place I want to go with you today.”

“With me? Where?”

I asked, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension swirling within me.

“The underground of Hamilton,” he stated, his voice low and firm.

“Underground?”

The word conjured images of dark, winding tunnels, a stark contrast to the grand halls of the palace.

“The smuggler’s sibling is there,” he explained, confirming my suspicions about the purpose of our journey.

“I’ll tell you the details when we arrive, so prepare to go out first.”

His tone left no room for argument.

After concluding our brief but weighty conversation, I quickly prepared myself for the outing.

The process was swift, a routine I had become accustomed to.

Soon, I was seated in the carriage alongside the Emperor.

The carriage itself was notably shabbier than the luxurious conveyances we usually rode, a clear indicator of our intended discretion.

Perhaps because we planned to go quietly, without revealing our identities, such a humble vehicle was chosen to avoid drawing undue attention.

It was a practical, albeit somewhat unsettling, choice.

Adding to the air of secrecy, the Emperor and my attire were equally dull and unremarkable: somber black robes that shrouded our figures, effectively concealing any hint of our true station.

The thick fabric felt heavy, almost oppressive, and the hood, pulled low, obscured much of my face.

‘This makes it feel like we’re really going to do something big, doesn’t it?’

I mused to myself, a thrill of anticipation mingled with a healthy dose of trepidation.

The disguise, the hushed plans, the nature of our mission—it all contributed to an atmosphere of intrigue and danger.

Unlike usual, the person accompanying him this time was Sir Chris.

This was another deviation from the norm.

The Emperor typically brought either Sir Veratri or Sir Walton with him, making Sir Chris’s presence somewhat unfamiliar.

His quiet demeanor and steady gaze offered a different kind of reassurance than the boisterous camaraderie of the other knights.

“It’s been a long time, Sir Chris,” I offered, breaking the silence, hoping to establish some common ground.

“What, you know me?” he responded, his voice laced with surprise, almost as if he found my recognition of him strange.

His words, delivered with a hint of bewilderment, stung a little.

It was a momentary, fleeting hurt, quickly dismissed as I considered the reality of our interactions.

When I thought about it, he and I had never truly engaged in a proper conversation.

Our paths had crossed, but always in the periphery.

“You came with other imperial knights to Medderland to pick me up, didn’t you?”

I reminded him, a touch of gentle reproach in my tone.

“I also often went to the training ground with Perry… Don’t you remember?”

I hoped the shared memories would jog his recollection.

“Mmm… Ah! Now that you mention it, those horns on their heads do look familiar, don’t they?”

Sir Chris finally uttered, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, but his interest, it seemed, was fleeting.

His gaze drifted away from me, fixating instead on a butterfly that had landed delicately on the carriage window.

His attention was completely captivated by the fluttering creature, and he offered me no further acknowledgement.

I managed an awkward laugh, a strained sound that barely masked my disappointment at his quick dismissal.

Then, my gaze shifted to the Emperor, who sat directly opposite me.

He was observing me, his arms crossed, one leg casually draped over the other, a silent, almost piercing intensity in his eyes.

“I have a question,” I began, deciding to press on despite the odd exchange with Sir Chris.

“What?” the Emperor responded, his voice even.

“Where did Sir Veratri and Sir Walton go?”

I asked the question that had been lingering in my mind since morning.

Their absence was unsettling.

“They’ve taken on new missions,” he stated simply, offering no further detail.

“Vice-Commander Reddit will also be away for a while.”

His words confirmed my suspicions.

The absence of all three of them, especially key figures like Sir Veratri and Sir Walton, suggested that they must have embarked on something quite significant, a matter of considerable import that required their collective expertise and strength.

The thought of not seeing them for a considerable period, perhaps not until this entire ordeal was over, made my already heavy heart ache even more profoundly.

The usual anchors of familiarity were being pulled away, leaving me feeling increasingly adrift.

Having nothing particular to say, and feeling a little lost in my own thoughts, I idly watched the ever-changing scenery outside the carriage window.

We eventually left the grandeur of the imperial palace behind, and as we reached the outskirts of the city, the quiet gave way to a distinctly boisterous atmosphere.

The air filled with a cacophony of sounds – laughter, music, distant shouts – a lively hum that indicated a celebration was in full swing.

“Is Hamilton usually this lively?”

I asked, genuinely surprised by the vibrant energy emanating from the streets.

The Emperor, without even turning his head, merely glanced out the window, his expression unreadable. He replied in a dry, matter-of-fact voice, “No, a full moon is expected soon.”

“Why does that matter?”

I pressed, confused by the connection between the lunar cycle and the city’s sudden exuberance.

“Wolf beast-men’s instincts grow stronger when the full moon approaches,” he explained, his voice devoid of emotion, as if stating a well-known fact.

“Occasionally, some even transform into wolves.”

I had genuinely never heard such a thing in my life.

The notion of people actually transforming into wolves under the influence of a full moon seemed utterly fantastical, something ripped from the pages of a fairytale.

It was an astonishing concept, almost magical in its implication.

My mind reeled at the thought.

Overcome with a mixture of wonder and apprehension, I asked him, my voice tinged with surprise:

“If they turn into wolves, do they eat people?”

The Emperor’s response was swift and definitive.

He slightly furrowed his brow, a subtle sign of his mild annoyance at my naive question, and then let out a short, almost incredulous laugh, his expression one of utter disbelief.

“Absolutely not,” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Their appearance is that of a wolf, yes, but they are still humans, thinking and reasoning just like us.”

He then added a crucial clarification, as if to preempt any further misconceptions.

“However, because they are always misunderstood, and to prevent panic, I’ve heard that someone created this festival. It’s meant to convey that even if you see someone transformed into a wolf, you shouldn’t be alarmed. It’s a way of fostering understanding, of normalizing what might otherwise be frightening.”

His explanation provided a new perspective.

Hamilton, being a place where various beast-men lived together, would undoubtedly present a challenge when someone transformed into their animalistic form.

It was easy to imagine that anyone seeing a fully transformed wolf beast-man for the first time would be startled, perhaps even terrified.

By integrating this transformation into a festival, it ingeniously transformed a potentially frightening experience into a shared celebration.

It became a wonderful opportunity for both the transforming individuals and the other beast-men witnessing it to create enjoyable memories, transforming fear into fascination, and surprise into shared delight.

It was a clever solution, fostering acceptance through joy.

Just thinking about the ingenious simplicity of it made my heart feel light, almost as if it were soaring.

It was a testament to the community’s creativity and resilience.

Then, amidst these pleasant thoughts, a sudden question popped into my mind, a genuine curiosity I couldn’t resist voicing.

“Then, Your Majesty,” I began, my voice a little hesitant, “have you ever transformed into a wolf?”

His response was immediate, accompanied by a scoff that perfectly matched the arrogant and supremely confident voice I had come to associate with him.

“Of course not,” he declared, his tone dismissive.

“I am not so weak as to be swayed by such base instincts.”

Typical of him.

Always so assured, so certain of his own control.

Yet, despite his words, a vivid image materialized in my mind: an Emperor, transformed into a magnificent wolf, still possessing all his regal bearing and commanding presence.

I imagined him as a creature of power and grace, a truly magnificent sight.

His fur, I envisioned, would be a shimmering silver, catching the light with an ethereal glow.

And his eyes, those intense, captivating eyes, would be a dark, chilling blue, so profound that their depths seemed to have no end, reflecting the ancient wisdom of his lineage.

Of course, if such a transformed Emperor were truly before my eyes, I knew I would likely tremble with fear, overwhelmed by his sheer power and wildness.

But this was merely an imagination, a fleeting fantasy, and in the realm of my thoughts, there was no danger, no reason for alarm.

It was a pleasant diversion, a momentary escape.

Just then, my attention was drawn back to the real world by movement outside the carriage window.

People passed by, many of them seemingly donning animal hides, their forms suggesting various creatures.

At first, I thought it was just one or two individuals, but then I realized it was a continuous stream of people, a veritable parade.

“Your Majesty, look there!”

I exclaimed, my voice filled with genuine delight and excitement.

“They all seem to be people who came to enjoy the festival!”

There were individuals disguised as small, lumbering bears and majestic lions, their playful roars echoing through the crowd.

I even spotted a squirrel as tall as a towering tree, its bushy tail swishing playfully.

Beyond these, a myriad of people in diverse and elaborate costumes paraded through the streets, their faces alight with joy, their laughter echoing through the vibrant air.

They walked hand-in-hand, their cheerful “haha hoho” sounds creating a harmonious backdrop to the festive atmosphere.

Just watching them filled me with a sense of contagious joy, making me feel as if I too were an integral part of the celebration.

It was a dreamlike experience, a wonderful respite from the grim realities of my life.

As I savored these moments, basking in the joyous energy of the crowd, the carriage finally came to a smooth, decisive stop.

“Are we there already?”

I asked, a hint of reluctance in my voice, wishing the joyous journey through the bustling streets could continue just a little longer.

“Yes,” the Emperor confirmed simply, his tone practical, bringing me back to the present task.

I accepted the Emperor’s steady hand as he offered his escort, helping me to alight from the carriage.

Instead of the quiet, secluded alleyway I had half-expected for a clandestine mission, we found ourselves plunged directly into the vibrant, clamorous heart of the festival.

The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats and sweet pastries, the joyous din of music and excited chatter a constant presence.

Brightly colored banners and intricate decorations adorned every available surface, transforming the mundane street into a tapestry of celebration.

“Is this the underground?”

I asked, a genuine note of confusion in my voice as I looked around at the open, bustling street.

The term “underground” had conjured images of dark, hidden passages, not this vibrant spectacle.

“No, this is where we get off,” he clarified, gesturing slightly.

“We need to walk a bit further from here.”

His explanation made sense.

Perhaps the actual “underground” location was simply too narrow or too remote for a carriage to traverse.

The very sound of the word “underground” had evoked a sense of mystery and secrecy for me.

I had imagined having to tap on the ground, listening for hollow sounds, desperately searching for a hidden, secret entrance—much like something out of a fantastical adventure novel.

The thought had been both thrilling and a little daunting.

Whatever the reason for disembarking here, it was, in a way, a fortunate turn of events for me.

Being able to experience the vibrant atmosphere directly, to immerse myself in the sights, sounds, and smells of the festival, was infinitely more engaging than merely observing the outside world from within the confines of a carriage.

The vibrant energy of the crowd, the intricate details of the costumes, the sheer joy radiating from everyone around us—it was all a sensory feast.

‘I can’t believe I’ve come all the way to Hamilton’s festival,’ I thought, a genuine smile touching my lips.

This was an experience I had never imagined, a delightful detour in my otherwise challenging journey.

If I were fortunate enough to meet my family again, this entire trip would provide a wealth of new stories to share.

I envisioned myself recounting the lively festivities, the unusual beast-men, and the intriguing nature of the city itself.

If I managed to prove my innocence and eventually return to Medderland, I planned to talk endlessly about the good people I had encountered here, the unexpected kindnesses, and the vivid memories forged in this vibrant land.

However, amidst this fleeting joy, a distinct and rather obvious problem soon presented itself.

The boisterous, celebratory atmosphere of the festival simply did not align with our current appearance.

It was a stark contrast, almost comical in its mismatch.

As the three of us—the Emperor, Sir Chris, and myself—all clad in our somber black robes, made our way through the jubilant crowds, we created a rather gloomy and conspicuous sight.

Our dark, heavy attire stood out like a sore thumb amidst the brightly colored costumes and festive attire of the revelers.

It was impossible to blend in.

Passersby couldn’t help but glance at us, their cheerful chatter giving way to hushed whispers.

“Who are those gloomy people?” one person murmured, their voice carrying clearly over the general hum of the crowd.

“They don’t look like they’re here to enjoy the festival. Are they outsiders?” another speculated, a hint of suspicion in their tone.

“They’re something… scary. Let’s take another path,” a third voice whispered, their urgency evident.

Such similar comments, delivered with varying degrees of curiosity and apprehension, reached my ears with unnerving regularity.

When I heard precisely the fourteenth such remark, I finally reached my breaking point.

The absurdity of our situation, coupled with the discomfort of being the subject of so much public scrutiny, became too much to bear.

I turned to the Emperor, my voice hushed but firm.

“Don’t we look… a bit too conspicuous like this?”

I asked, my gaze sweeping over our dark, unyielding robes.

The question hung in the air, undeniable in its truth.

We were not blending in; we were drawing attention, and in our line of work, that was the last thing we wanted.

“Is that so?”