[Two weeks after that incident]
In one of the somber patches of this turbulent world, snow falls heavily upon the dark tiles.
The ornate brick buildings lean like pointed hats, bearing witness to the luxury of the upper class — the bourgeoisie.
The clatter of their iron carriages echoes in the ears of the beggars between the damp walls,standing in the defiled alley,
while the laughter erupting from the neighboring tavern instills in them a sense of nihilism and hunger at once.
On the other side, the popular market thrives with clamor.
The extended street is crowded with commoners, their voices intertwining with the shouts of vendors,
as the scent of winter garments mixes with the smoke rising from the old ovens:
> "Fish from the River Thames!"
"Second-hand clothes… buying and selling!"
"Newspapers, today's newspapers!"
This commercial space was exclusive to the simple grays, and for the nobles, entering it was considered an insult
They remain confined within their luxurious mansions overlooking the River Thames —
a shimmering stream of iridescent colors,
harboring within it the rarest and finest kinds of fresh fish,while the green comet reflects upon its surface like a painted masterpiece.
The palace stands touching the sky with its brick-red structure,amid the arrogance of the lords here.
The frost crashes violently against the golden windows, while water pours abundantly across its black rooftops.
> "Coming! I'm on my way!"
said the maid, rushing through the narrow corridors of the crimson palace, passing oil paintings and hollow heads adorned with captivating roses, hung upon the ornamented walls.
Moments later…
she reached the golden door of the grand reception hall.
It was inlaid with a meticulous engraving of a woman holding a torch atop a massive lion.
She pushed it open forcefully, producing a heavy creak as it parted.
There she was met by Commander Walter in his imposing presence, behind him the murmur of the attendees , not clad in his usual battle armor , but in a formal suit in preparation for the fortieth anniversary of liberation.
With a calm gaze, he said:
> "Is Her Majesty ready? , The place has begun to lose its sacred character… Nobility here is nothing but a veil for the baseness of certain inclinations."
The maid nodded, placing her hand upon her chest:
> "Merely a matter of time sir , The waters are still flowing within her royal domain ,
she does not tolerate noise."
The violin's tone resonated like the first chants of dawn…
Minutes later, a melodious voice called out:
> "Good evening, Commander."
It was none other than Albert, with his European-styled haircut , entering among the guests,entering among the guests,as the golden chandelier reflected upon the polished floor adorned with emerald embellishments, while toasts rose with the clinking of glasses between the hall's walls and columns
A faint smile cuts across Walter's solemn face:
> "You finally arrived, Albert…Will you raise your toast upon the ruins of hollow bellies?"
Albert murmured coldly, tilting his head:
> "Since my promotion, my conscience vanished amid the piling corpses. Justice is leverage in the wrong hands."
Walter said bitterly:
> "All this sea of blood, just to decorate their palaces with wreaths of hollow skulls. Justice, as you say, exists to fulfill the wishes of their offspring."
> "You look well-dressed… unusually so, venerable one,"
a female voice slipped in from the doorway.
It was Alexandra, clad in a dark black dress,
followed by a short man with a bloated face and gray hair, wearing an expensive leather jacket made from crocodile scales.
Alexandra pointed at him:
> "Brighton Dickens , one of the most prominent dealers in the parallel market."
Brighton pursed his lips tightly and said with composure:
> "Good day, Prince of Victories.
I bring you news — today's shipment is unlike the usual.We've finally surpassed the stage of stagnation."
Albert replied sharply:
> "Your confident tone carries several implications. Contesta will sense the true state of affairs through your undertones."
Walter extended his hand steadily and said calmly:
> "A true captain knows how to steer his glass vessel beneath lava,without the need to boast about it."
Alexandra said:
> "The quarterly economy resembles a sailboat navigating a volatile sea.
Each time we believe it has stabilized, waves of rampant inflation strike it down , drowning it in a sea of astronomical figures."
Brighton replied in an aristocratic tone:
>"Perhaps it's time to establish some rules that make things appear organized, without losing control over what truly matters."
Albert said doubtfully:
> "Some sycophants will not allow this to happen.They will find a way to manipulate or buy loyalties to prevent any change that threatens their interests."
No sooner had a few moments passed,
than the voice of a military guard thundered, bearing a formal, resolute tone:
> "Her Majesty, the exalted Conestina, honors the hall with her entrance!"
Bodies bowed gracefully, like green wheat stalks swaying beneath the morning breeze,
preparing to receive the Queen in all her majesty and imposing presence.