Chapter 496: The Festival
Jose Salazar, a key figure in the Pearson Merchant Guild, had traveled far from the Thrace Kingdom. After purchasing military arms worth fifty thousand gold dinars, he hastily departed.
However, in Isthalia City, where tens of thousands of people came and went daily, such an event was insignificant, incapable of stirring any waves.
At most, it slightly increased Reuven's commission and secured more orders for the Clauberwu Military Industrial Group.
For the local residents, the more pressing matter was the approaching festival—the most significant day in the Ember Empire—the Coronation Day.
On March 1st, Year 1786 of the Third Era, at noon, Cassius personally crowned himself at the altar, proclaiming the establishment of the empire to the world.
Over the years, through extensive official promotion, the empire had formed a series of festival traditions, and its citizens took them seriously.
Every year on March 1st, people gathered at the Emperor's Plaza, surrounding the grand and imposing red dragon statue, singing in unison the "Hymn of Cassius".
In addition, people exchanged gifts, held feasts, and drank freely in taverns, shouting praises such as "Long live His Majesty!" and "Gratitude to His Majesty!" Some even burst into song.
The costly "Gift of the Dragon" was freely distributed on this day, with the empire covering the expenses.
Furthermore, all factories and offices closed for the holiday, allowing people to revel in the celebrations and display their loyalty to the emperor.
"All people bow in worship to the mighty red dragon above!"
"How could this grace ever be repaid?"
The melodic singing echoed through the plaza, more impassioned than during yesterday's rehearsals. Every face radiated fervor.
"Long live the Empire!"
"Long live His Majesty Cassius!"
"To celebrate Coronation Day, everything is now at a forty-percent discount!"
Citizens of all backgrounds gathered, sitting beside taverns, raising their mugs—or even barrels—drinking in celebration.
"Maintain order!"
"Ogre over there! Put the satyr down!"
The tiefling security patrols were maintaining order, long spears in hand, patrolling back and forth—to prevent the oversized drunks from exposing their true nature and causing trouble.
Humans, orcs, tieflings, goblins, lizardmen, ogres, satyrs, wyverns...
Regardless of race, identity, or status, as long as they were citizens of the empire, they all relished this rare day of revelry, releasing the burdens of work.
Yet there were exceptions—such as the enemies of the empire.
A "human" draped in a gray robe silently observed the celebrating crowd from a shadowy corner, his eyes harboring boundless hatred.
Once, his name was Asher Kale, a noble of the Northern Lands, descended from a lineage of prestige that spanned centuries, living a life of luxury.
However, the arrival of the red dragon shattered everything. His family was beheaded in the "Great Judgment," and he was left to await death in a prison cell.
It was then that Asher's overwhelming hatred caught the attention of the "Demon of Vengeance," and the Abyss itself opened a terrifying, grotesque door for him.
Years later, he returned to the Northern Lands, but beneath his human facade lay the hideous, warped body of a demon.
"These damned humans..."
"They have so quickly forgotten their ancestors' grace and sworn loyalty to the vile dragon. They should be torn to shreds."
Asher gritted his teeth. To oppose the dragon, he had willingly transformed into a demon.
Yet these wretched northerners had shifted their faith in just a few years, pledging allegiance to the red dragon!
Unforgivable!
Asher's mission was to incite hatred against the red dragon, disrupt the empire's social order, and gather sustenance for the Abyss.
But in this vast plaza filled with tens of thousands, not a single soul bore the red glow of hatred.
Instead, most emanated golden radiance—a symbol of loyalty and faith—so bright that Asher could barely keep his eyes open.
A hoarse exclamation escaped his throat: "Impossible!"
Unbelievable!
They lived under the brutal rule of the dragon—how could they bear no hatred toward him?
Even under the old Northern Kingdom's rule, there were always rebellious fools attempting to overthrow the throne.
Yet now, under the dragon's dominion, the people felt no resentment?
This made no sense!
Asher lowered his head, muttering, "These wretched humans! How am I supposed to complete Lord Jezal Slak's orders like this?"
"Flames are His Majesty's robe, the sky His canopy, the dark storm obeys His path."
"How could this grace ever be forgotten?"
The resounding hymn from afar only agitated Asher further.
"Damn it..."
If this weren't deep within imperial territory, he might have revealed his demonic form and slaughtered the humans singing that wretched anthem.
"No, I must not be hasty. This city holds hundreds of thousands of people—there must be those who resent the dragon."
"If I find just one, I can uncover an entire faction of dragon-haters."
With this thought, he decided to wander the plaza, hoping for a stroke of luck.
Asher roamed the festival grounds, weaving between taverns, manipulating his human shell to feign "joy."
Amidst the overwhelming golden light of loyalty, he finally spotted a lone white glow in the corner of a tavern—a human.
White, signifying neither hatred nor support.
But in a sea of golden faith, this was already a rarity—someone Asher might still sway.
"So, that wretched dragon has not deceived everyone. There are still wise humans left."
With this thought, Asher approached and struck up a conversation:
"Friend, are you feeling down? This is a day of nationwide celebration. Why do you seem so troubled?"
The man was startled, straightening his posture as he stammered, "Long live His Majesty Cassius! I-I'm just dealing with some troubles, nothing against His Majesty!"
"A-are you from Nocturne?"
There was hope!
Asher's eyes lit up instantly, and he responded with a smile, "Of course not. Relax, I'm just a traveler."
The man let out a long sigh of relief.
Asher pressed further, "Friend, what is your name? What troubles are you facing?"
The man looked sorrowful, raising his mug high before tilting his head back and downing its contents.
The liquor trickled down his chin, soaking his clothes. He wiped his mouth carelessly before speaking:
"M-my name is Raj. I work at Factory Thirteen."