Festivities

Kulkula Town was ablaze with celebration, its streets alive with the rhythmic sway of men and women dancing together, their movements guided by the fine tunes and joyous songs of the town's musicians.

Laughter—bright, uninhibited, and full of warmth—echoed through the air, blending with the delighted shrieks of children running through the bustling crowd.

The large plazas, adorned with tables overflowing with an abundance of food and drink, served as the heart of the festivities.

Dishes were continuously brought in and taken away, waves of liquor flowed endlessly, and the sounds of cheerful feasting filled the air.

The atmosphere radiated joy, unity, and love.

Under the warm, watchful light of the stars above, no one felt like a stranger, no one felt the sting of loneliness. For this night, all were family, their hearts brimming with the purest form of euphoria.

"AH! Well, if it isn't my little sword prince! Haha! Come here!"

A booming voice rang out above the lively chatter. A tall, burly man, his muscular arms covered in old scars, staggered forward, a wide grin splitting his thick, unkempt beard.

He carried a large jug of ale in one hand, half its contents spilling over as he rushed toward Icarus.

His laughter was infectious, drawing the attention of those nearby. Soon, many others turned their gazes toward the approaching figures of Lady Amalia and Lord Henry, and within moments, greetings and invitations filled the air. 

With warm smiles, the two accepted, joining the townspeople in their revelry.

"Look at my little boy here!" Jonah, the burly man, bellowed as he effortlessly lifted Icarus off the ground, swinging him around like a ragdoll.

Icarus laughed, already used to the man's exuberance.

"You just keep growing, you foxy little snow bundle! What's the secret, huh?!" Jonah ruffled Icarus' hair roughly before setting him down. "No, but seriously, what is your secret, you little giant? It's only been a week since we last sparred, and you're already stronger!"

Still laughing, Jonah slung an arm around Icarus' shoulders and led him toward a table where several retired soldiers and warriors sat, feasting and drinking.

"Hey! It's little sword!"

A round of greetings erupted as Icarus arrived, met with the hearty slaps on the back and wide grins of seasoned fighters who had long since come to respect the boy.

"Here, have some ale! Surely a single drink for such a night wouldn't hurt, eh?" Jonah teased, sliding a wooden jug toward him.

Icarus chuckled, shaking his head. "You and I both know I can't, Uncle Jonah. That'd mess up my training prep."

Jonah let out an exaggerated groan before a mischievous glint flickered in his eyes. "Wait! I know just the thing! I got a new shipment of swords that just came in. Want to take a look?"

The way Icarus' eyes lit up was all the answer Jonah needed. Laughing heartily, the old warrior pulled out a ring of keys and tossed them over. "Go on, then! They're in the back storage at my house."

Icarus barely needed any more encouragement. The moment the keys were in his hands, he was off, disappearing into the crowd.

The men at the table chuckled as they watched him go.

***

At another table, Lady Amalia and Lord Henry sat in quiet conversation, their cups filled with fine wine. A third figure sat with them, an elderly man, his long white beard reaching past his chest. His deep emerald eyes glowed faintly with wisdom, mirroring the tranquil expression on his weathered face.

This was Oberon, the Town Lord of Kulkula.

"You hold him to a high standard, don't you?" Oberon mused, watching as Icarus vanished into the crowd. "Even the heirs I've met in Asgard aren't asked to meet such expectations."

Amalia smiled, sipping from her cup. "Of course, I must." Her golden eyes flickered with quiet determination. "If I didn't, the heavens themselves would scorn me. He is a talent that must bear fruit, a seed that must bloom."

Oberon chuckled, shaking his head. "It seems the boy is dear to your heart."

No further words were needed. Anyone who truly knew who Lady Amalia was understood just how much it meant for her to take on a disciple, let alone raise him as her own.

"But he is quite unusual, isn't he?" Oberon continued, turning his gaze toward the sky.

"Oh?" Lord Henry arched a brow.

"With his intellect… when I first met him all those years ago, when he was still just a toddler, I expected him to grow into a recluse. A child closed off to the world, consumed by his own mind, arrogant beyond his years." He sighed, swirling the liquid in his cup. "Like most geniuses in their youth."

Oberon's lips curled into a soft smile. "And yet, he has grown into something far more remarkable. Despite his mind—one that I find truly terrifying—he has not lost his purity." He lifted his cup slightly toward them. "You've done well, Lady Amalia. And you as well, Sir Henry. You should be proud."

The two exchanged glances, both their expressions betraying a faint blush of pride.

Oberon chuckled at their reaction before his voice lowered slightly. "On another note…" His tone grew more serious. "…How have you been? Have you found a solution to your… situation?"

Amalia's smile faded, replaced by a weary sigh. "Henry has managed to create a few pills to slow the effects, but ultimately, the result remains the same."

"Without removing my bindings, it's all meaningless. We're simply delaying the inevitable."

Lord Henry's expression darkened, his fingers clenching tightly for a brief moment before he exhaled, regaining control.

"No matter how grim the future may seem, I have hope," he said firmly. "As long as you hold on, may the heavens bear witness—I will find a way."

Oberon observed them both—the sorrow hidden in Amalia's gaze, the burning resolve within Henry's. A tinge of regret flickered across his face.

"I apologize," he said softly. "My tongue often moves faster than my mind. I shouldn't have tainted such a beautiful moment."

With a wave of his hand, he refilled their cups, his warm smile returning.

"Let us drink, then, to many more bountiful harvests and years of overflowing joy."

The two smiled in return, lifting their cups. "To many more."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Suddenly, just as their cups touched, the ground shook with a violent force. Explosions echoed through the air, gusts of wind tearing through the streets.

The joyous sounds of celebration died instantly.

Music halted. Laughter ceased. The festivities froze.

Jonah and his men immediately stood, their hands already gripping their blades. Their essence flared, coursing through their bodies as their instincts sharpened.

All eyes turned toward the distance, their expressions shifting from confusion to alertness.

Amalia's golden gaze darkened, her expression turning ice-cold. Lord Henry's face twisted into something demonic, his warm, fatherly presence replaced by a seething aura of raw power.

'…Why now, of all times…?'