Three Months Later
The day arrived with a sudden, clattering noise that started long before the sun had even cleared the eastern ridges.
In the far provinces, the chimney smoke was already rising into the cold dawn air, but it was not the thin, grey drift of daily necessity.
Today, the wood was being piled high for the ovens, and the sweet, heavy smell of baking bread began to drift over the frost-bitten lanes.
The banner makers, who had finished their work three nights ago, stood by their high windows to watch the streets below slowly dress themselves in the imperial colors of blue and silver.
Every corner, every wooden post, and every low stone wall was being draped in the heavy cloth.
The bakers had not slept at all, their stone hearths burning hot since midnight to prepare the dense, sweet loaves that were only made for this particular morning.
