Today Radeon Terraces swelled until it felt like the city might split its own seams.
Merchants had been advised to close for the event, and they listened.
Not a stall open, not a hawker calling, as if the whole city had agreed to hold its breath.
Three million souls still poured in. Customers with coin clenched hard in their fists.
Hopefuls with nothing but a blade, a bruise, and the belief that luck could be bullied into obedience.
In a world where most people talked about forty like it was an edge you fell off, this was the best time to throw yourself at something that could make you.
The tournament was close enough to taste. Word of the prizes moved faster than the heralds.
When the full list was posted, men and women leaned in, counted twice, and swore they would win at least one.
What the crowd loved was not the shine. It was the use.
