[POV: Arthur]
The great hall of Caelora that night was like a sea of light. Hundreds of
crystal candles glowed with a soft blue radiance, blending with golden
torchlight along the arches of each pillar. The music of zithers and flutes
from Silverwood echoed, welcoming the guests who had just taken their places at
the long table in the center of the hall.
That table stretched like a river, crafted from old oak wood, carved simply
yet sturdily. A white cloth embroidered with wheat patterns covered it. Upon it
lay roasted meats, spiced soup from Greenvale, warm honeyed bread, and fresh
wine from Riverbend. Sweet and savory aromas mingled with the lively hum of
conversation.
But the heart of this evening was not the food. Every chair had been
arranged at the same height. There was no elevated throne, no separation of
rank. Nobles sat beside commoners, foreign diplomats alongside Valorian
merchants. And I myself—the King of Valoria—sat on a plain wooden chair, no
different from theirs.
I drew a long breath. The last two years of birthdays had passed without
notice. At eighteen, I had been buried in the first reforms: dismantling taxes,
revising laws, restructuring the military. Celebration had been nothing more
than a dim torch in a palace corridor. At nineteen, I spent the day on the
battlefield—Grimhollow Siege, the blood of soldiers, the screams of cultists
drowned out any song.
Now, at twenty, I decided my birthday would no longer belong to me, but to
Valoria.
I raised my silver goblet.
"To the new Valoria. Let us eat."
The ringing of cups filled the hall. The feast began.
[POV: The Nobles]
Count Reynard glanced around. "He truly has erased the divide."
Duke Marco Verita nodded. "He can sit as an equal and still be revered. That is
real power."
Viscount Toroso sipped his wine with a curl of his lip. "If commoners sit side
by side with a king, will they still fear him?"
Marco turned calmly. "Fear can be forced. But respect is born of conviction.
Look at how the people gaze at him tonight."
Toroso offered no reply, only lowered his eyes in silence.
[POV: The People of Valoria]
An old farmer from Greenvale sat stiffly. His hands trembled as he lifted his
spoon. Arthur turned toward him.
"You are a wheat farmer, aren't you?"
The man startled, bowing quickly. "Y-yes, Your Majesty. Just a simple
farmer."
Arthur smiled. "A farmer is no simple thing. It is your wheat that fills this
table. Without you, even a king cannot eat."
The old man's eyes welled red. "No king has ever said such a thing to me."
A young weaver lowered her gaze shyly. "I never imagined I could sit here
either."
Arthur's eyes moved to the plain fabric at her sleeve. "Without craftsmen, the
people would freeze. Your work is as valuable as a soldier's sword."
The woman covered her mouth, hiding a trembling smile.
A village youth lifted his wooden cup. "Then… to the new Valoria!"
Arthur raised his silver goblet in answer. "To Valoria, for all of us."
Cheers thundered through the hall.
[POV: Arthur]
I turned to Duke Marco. "The railway would not have been finished without your
support. Valoria is grateful."
Marco lifted his glass. "Do not mistake, Your Majesty. It was the laborers who
worked day and night that deserve the praise. But… seeing you sit among them, I
know their efforts were not in vain."
Viscount Toroso spoke again. "If the people draw too near, the kingdom's
dignity could fade."
I met his gaze steadily. "Fear is born of intimidation. Respect is born of
conviction. I will always choose respect."
[POV: Foreign Guests]
The envoy from Riverbend, clad in blue with the sigil of a river on his chest,
bowed politely. "In our land, kings and people never share the same table. This
sight… is deeply moving."
Arthur nodded. "Riverbend is famed for its fertile rivers. Tonight, we share
not only the fruits of the land, but also a table—and brotherhood."
A merchant from the Veritas Republic added, "If nobles and commoners stand
united, the market will remain steady. This is not just politics, but also
investment."
Arthur chuckled softly. "Perhaps. But I prefer to call it… an investment in
trust."
Gentle laughter spread, softening the air.
[POV: Arthur]
When the feast ended, the music shifted—lively and quick. I rose, clapping my
hands.
"Tonight, there are no nobles and no commoners. All are dancers of Valoria."
A roar of joy burst out. I stepped down, grasped the hand of a village
youth, and joined the circle. Nobles shed their heavy coats, peasants laughed
freely, and even foreign diplomats eventually joined in.
Our shadows spun across lantern-lit walls. Rough farmer's hands passed to
the delicate fingers of noblewomen, then to the palms of foreign merchants. All
moved to the same rhythm.
[POV: Elara]
I stood at the edge of the circle, my gown swaying with the music. My eyes
never left Arthur in the center of the throng.
In Riverbend, noble birthdays were spectacles of excess—golden thrones,
grand orchestras, while the common folk only heard rumors from afar. But here…
it was different. Arthur made his birthday a gift to the people. He sat as an
equal, dined together, then danced among them.
I overheard a diplomat whisper beside me. "For two years straight, he
refused to celebrate his birthday. He only worked without pause."
I fell silent. So this was his first birthday celebration since ascending
the throne. Not for himself, but for everyone. He had turned his birthday into
a gift for his kingdom.
I looked at him again. His smile was sincere, his eyes alight. If a king
could make his birthday not a celebration of himself, but of his nation, then
perhaps he truly deserved to be called a leader.
When he approached and extended his hand, the world seemed to halt. "Will
you join us?"
I placed my hand in his. The music swelled, the dance quickened.
That night, I realized I was not only witnessing the birthday of a young
king, but also the birth of a new Valoria.