A week had passed since chaos swept through the capital like a storm of fire and steel.
Now, the city stirred once more with the breath of life, its wounds slowly mending beneath the golden sun.
The streets, once stained with blood and silence, pulsed with vibrant motion.
Children ran barefoot on cobbled paths, their laughter like birdsong chasing away the lingering ghosts of war.
Peddlers shouted their wares with renewed vigor, voices rising above the clatter of carts and footsteps.
The scent of roasted chestnuts and fresh bread wafted through the air—testament that even after ruin, life dares to bloom again.
Young Master and Young Miss, draped in shimmering silk robes that caught the sunlight like liquid gold, paraded proudly through the bustling streets.
Their steps were measured, each movement a silent display of wealth and privilege.
