"Here," Charles said, handing Adria a cold cloth.
"…Thanks."
"Your skin is more sensitive than I thought," Charles added as he sat down beside her. He sighed. "Mother and father will kill me if that doesn't go down before we arrive at the estate."
"It wasn't your fault, though," Adria said, pressing the cold cloth against her forehead.
"But I promised to protect you, Kath."
"It's just a tiny bump, Charles," Adria retorted. "It's really not a big deal."
Charles stared at her for a moment, the sounds of people readying the play's stage filling the air.
"What did you mean by that?" Charles asked, his gaze shifting to the stage in front of them.
"What did I mean by what?"
"You told that woman she looked familiar."
She swallowed. "…I just thought I'd seen her before. Either that or someone who had a similar appearance."
The words lingered in the air for a moment. Charles didn't respond. The only source of comfort Adria had was the noise around them. Sweat dribbled down her face; the cloth had now gotten warm.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a young blond boy shouted, "I welcome you to the best play you'll experience in your lifetime!"
The crowd erupted into cheers and laughter.
"As we all know, today is the war festival," the boy continued—his hands clasped together as he paced up and down the wooden boards, the acting troupe performing behind him. "Today, a hundred years ago-"
"Hundred and fifty to be precise," said one of the noble's children.
"Why, thank you, young sir," the boy forced out a polite smile. "Hundreds of years ago, our beautiful kingdom of Cilia was at war with the neighbouring kingdom of Verdandi."
The boy stopped and stood in the middle of the stage. Behind him, swords clashed; actors grunted and fell, and fake blood flew all over the stage. "The war was fierce, and many of our beautiful people died. Cilia officially won a hundred and fifty years ago, but Calry became a part of Verdandi."
The crowd broke into a stream of whispers. The nobles sitting at the front of the stage threw baffled glances at each other. The boy and the company stopped for a moment. And when the noise settled, he continued.
"Our town still fought against Verdandi for a long fifty years." The clashing of swords behind him grew louder. "And on the fourth day of Edis, in the year 1312, thanks to the goddess of war, we gained our independence from Verdandi and became a part of this wonderful kingdom."
The troupe behind the boy hugged and carried the bodies of dead comrades. Women acting as wives of dead soldiers cried. A man adorned in jewellery from head to toe signed a deal, and their town began a phase of reconstruction.
"Although Calry became independent on the same day as Cilia, this was 50 years after the fact," the boy said. "And every war festival, our sacrifices go to thanking the goddess for the victory of Cilia."
The boy walked to the back of the stage and yanked the curtains aside, revealing the massive bonfire behind it. "But I believe that this year, we should celebrate the victory of Calry! We should offer the goddess in gratitude for that!"
"So when you get up and offer your hard-worked harvest, pray to the goddess! Pray not for Cilia, but for Calry!"
The nobles were now visibly furious. The boy smirked at the sight and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, we've reached the end of our play. A round of applause for Calry's finest!"
The crowd threw glances at each other. A drunken man sitting on the furthest stage seat stood up and clapped and cheered as if there was no tomorrow. The crowd slowly got swept up in the emotion, and they, too, began cheering. Adria felt oddly lively at the sight but kept the enthusiasm to herself.
Most of the nobles rose and left, throwing loathsome looks on their way out. Once the crowd began to thin, the Aurielles stood up.
"That was one hell of a first outing, wasn't it?" Charles said, stretching his arms upwards.
"…I'm sorry for bringing you here, Kath," Armand added, his words laced with guilt.
"It's fine, Armand," she smiled. "I enjoyed today. I ate all sorts of foods, went to a place I've always dreamt of going to, and, well, left the estate."
"…Right."
"The main event is starting, if you're up for it," Charles said.
"Main event?"
"The bonfire in front of us," he lifted his left thumb and pointed at it. "People offer their most valuable harvest to the goddess. They say that at the end of the event, there's a chance that golden flakes drop from the sky."
"But is it truly safe for us to remain here?" Armand asked, glancing at his sides as the crowd stood up with their offers. "Most of the nobles have already left."
"You have the kingdom's best knight here with you," Charles said with a grin. "I don't see why you wouldn't be safe."
"You're telling me that the duke is here with us?" Armand feigned surprise. "Where?"
Charles wore a disgusted look. "You don't know anything about knights, anyway."
"I think we can stay," Adria said.
"Alright then, my lady."
The bonfire had increased in proportion to the offers. Everything thrown to it was immediately consumed and turned into fuel for its insatiable flames. It had gotten taller than the houses in the area, and the warmth emitted by it, which would have been welcome during winter, had gotten unbearable.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the boy announced, "here's our last offer of the day!"
A large cow was dragged into the fire. Its body was eaten by it in the blink of an eye, and at that very moment, Adria's heartbeat surged.
A heat similar to that of the bonfire tore her insides.
"Ugh-" She bent downwards, grabbing onto her chest as if it would split open at any moment. The fire's intensity grew, and the heat burning her followed suit.
"Kath?" Charles whipped his head toward her. "What's wrong?"
Her vision blurred. The world turned over sideways.
"Kath!"
Her body slumped from the chair, hitting the ground below.
"Katherine!"
[Adria.]