The bells of Elysee rang out across the capital just as the morning mist began to lift from the rooftops. From the palace's high veranda, King Bruno could see it all—sunlight creeping over brick and slate, chimneys releasing trails of smoke from early hearths, and the steady movement of wagons heading toward the central districts. The city, bruised but healing, stirred with a quiet rhythm that reminded him of a living organism—damaged once, but now steadily recovering. Every stone laid, every trench dug, every clean bucket of water drawn from a new well added strength to its pulse.
Today would be one of the most critical days since the epidemic had passed. Not one of ceremony or spectacle—but of grit and resolve.
"Ready?" Queen Amelie asked as she approached, Prince Louis wrapped snugly against her chest in a sling. She wore a practical coat over her dress, her hair tied back in a scarf. She knew it would be a long day in the open.
