The next day finally arrived.
Morning sunlight spilled over Balan Village, soft and golden, touching the rooftops of old wooden houses one by one. Thin smoke rose from chimneys. The smell of boiling soup, roasted grains, and fresh-cut grass drifted through the narrow paths between the homes.
It felt alive.
Children ran past the fences with baskets in their arms. Women were hanging cloth decorations between houses. Men carried wooden tables toward the village square, laughing as they shouted at one another to be careful.
"Move it slowly! If you break that table, we will eat on the ground!"
"Then you can sit on the ground first!"
Laughter followed.
Inside Oderick's cramped wooden house, the atmosphere was far more serene, yet tense with quiet anticipation.
I stood silently near the doorway of the small guest bedroom. Inside, a little girl was curled up beneath a thick, woven blanket. She was breathing softly, fast asleep.
"She is completely out," Hana whispered. She stood beside me, leaning in to look at the fragile child. A soft, genuine smile formed on her lips. "Aww. She is so beautiful."
"I am leaving her in your care, Hana," I said, keeping my voice low. "Make sure she is comfortable when she wakes up. I need to get ready. The celebration event in Balan awaits."
Hana nodded firmly.
Just then, the heavy, shuffling footsteps of the old chief echoed from the hallway.
The old man held something carefully in his arms, as though he were carrying a sacred offering rather than a piece of clothing. His back was slightly bent, but his expression was unusually proud.
"Lord Fragha," he called.
I turned toward him.
"What is it, Oderick?"
Oderick cleared his throat.
"I thought this might suit you better for today."
He unfolded the clothing in his hands.
It was a white tuxedo jacket.
The fabric was old, but carefully preserved. Its surface was clean and smooth, with a soft shine beneath the morning light. A silver chain brooch was pinned neatly across the chest, connected to a small decorative emblem. A purple pocket square rested in the breast pocket, adding a noble touch to the otherwise pure white design.
He held the jacket out to me with trembling hands, looking up with absolute respect.
"It is better if you wear this, Lord Fragha. If you are going to face the Baron, you must look the part of a true leader."
"Oh my," hana murmured. "That looks expensive."
Oderick chuckled dryly.
"It is expensive."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Where did you get something like this?"
"This was once given by the king to the leaders of each territory," Oderick explained. "Many years ago, Every regional leader received one."
His fingers brushed the sleeve with a hint of nostalgia.
"I kept it because throwing it away felt disrespectful. But it never fit me properly." He looked at his own round stomach and sighed. "And now, well… it fits me even less."
Hana tried not to laugh.
Oderick noticed and frowned.
"Young lady, there is nothing funny about a dignified old man's body."
"I did not say anything," Hana replied quickly, though her shoulders were trembling.
"Then I will wear it."
Hana quickly stood up and turned away.
"I will prepare some tea while you change."
"Do not peek," Oderick said.
Hana's face flushed.
"Why would I peek at Lord Fragha?"
Oderick stroked his beard.
"Because he is handsome."
"Elder Oderick!"
I nearly laughed.
A few minutes later, I stepped out wearing the white tuxedo.
The room went silent.
Oderick stared at me with his mouth slightly open.
Hana blinked twice, then covered her lips.
The white jacket fit my body almost perfectly. The silver chain brooch rested neatly across my chest. The purple pocket square gave the outfit a subtle elegance without looking too flashy.
My blond hair, now combed and cleaned, fell neatly around my face. Under the morning light, even I had to admit that the reflection in the small cracked mirror looked different.
Oderick nodded slowly.
"As expected."
Hana smiled warmly.
"You look… very noble, Lord Fragha."
"Noble?" I adjusted my cuff. "That sounds troublesome."
"You look like a prince," she added.
Oderick snorted.
"A prince with a sharp tongue."
I gave him a glance.
"And an old advisor who complains too much."
"Hmph. A good leader must have someone to complain on his behalf."
"Well then," I broke the silence, casually adjusting my cuffs. "I will be heading out with Roberts. Are you absolutely sure you do not want to join us, old man?"
Oderick shook his head rapidly, offering a nervous chuckle. "No, no. My heart cannot handle those exhausting political gatherings anymore. I will stay here and guard the village."
I nodded, turning on my heel and stepping out of the wooden house.
Only Roberts would accompany me formally, but many villagers had come simply to watch me leave.
Roberts stood near the front, wearing a clean but simple outfit. The moment he saw me, his eyes widened.
"Wow," a young woman whispered loudly to her neighbor, her hands flying to cover her blushing cheeks. "He looks incredibly handsome in that white suit."
The atmosphere was buzzing with admiration and newfound hope. But not everyone was blinded by the shiny new clothes.
The crowd suddenly parted. A group of tense, sweating men aggressively pushed their way to the front.
They were led by Erwin, a former merchant from Balan who had moved here after his business violently collapsed. Now a humble farmer, Erwin stood before me with a face as red as a tomato.
He was breathing heavily, his hands clenched into tight, trembling fists. Behind him, a small faction of anxious villagers muttered nervously among themselves, darting their eyes around like frightened prey.
"Lord Fragha!" Erwin shouted.
The crowd grew quiet.
Erwin swallowed. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.
"This is madness, Lord Fragha!"
His voice cracked slightly, but he continued.
"You refused Balan's wheat. You allowed that spy, Zael, to enter this place. And now you are acting as though we can celebrate?"
The people behind him murmured.
One woman lowered her gaze.
A man near the fence whispered, "He has a point…"
Erwin heard it and gained confidence.
"If Baron Leonard finds out we are trying to become independent, he will not just send thieves next time." Erwin pointed a shaking finger at me. "He will send soldiers. Real soldiers. They will burn our fields, take our children, and hang us all as traitors!"
A heavy silence fell.
The lively village from moments ago seemed to shrink.
The laughter disappeared.
Some villagers looked at the ground. Others hugged their children closer. Fear, began crawling back into their faces.
I stood on the steps of Oderick's house and watched them.
I did not answer immediately.