The great plaza of Elysee had not seen a gathering of this scale since the birth of Prince Louis. Yet now, it was filled once more—shoulder to shoulder, from the fountain at its center to the marble steps of the Grand Hall, where a platform had been erected beneath the banner of Elysea. Blue and gold silk fluttered overhead, anchored to polished iron poles and framed by fresh garlands of spring flowers. The morning sun shone warmly upon the city, the streets still damp from their routine washing.
From every corner of the kingdom they had come: farmers and smiths, scholars and tradesmen, nobles and commoners alike. The city guard lined the plaza's perimeter, their presence watchful but unintrusive. Children sat atop their parents' shoulders. Vendors moved quietly among the gathered, offering sweetbread and water. There was no laughter today—only the quiet buzz of anticipation, a respectful silence that settled over the crowd like a held breath.
