Episode 49
The day of the Midsummer Festival dawned.
The morning air of Lansfield was already filled with anticipation and the sweet scent of freshly baked bread.
The normally orderly village had transformed overnight into a place swirling with color and vitality.
The villagers hurried back and forth through the streets, slowly beginning the festival they had been preparing for over the past several days.
The humble village square was now brimming with lively energy.
Garlands of wildflowers and colorful ribbons hung between the lampposts, fluttering in the warm summer breeze.
A group of young soldiers stripped down to their undershirts in the heat were raising a maypole in the center of the square alongside sunburned farmers.
Along the main road, shopkeepers threw open their doors and displayed their finest goods.
From the bakery, whose windows had fogged over with steam from the ceaselessly turning ovens, the irresistible aroma of cinnamon and fresh bread wafted out.
“Freshly baked berry tarts! Get them while they’re warm!”
Mrs. Higgins, the baker’s wife, called out to passersby, wearing her flour-dusted apron as though it were a medal.
“Have you decided who you’re dancing with today?”
“No. Have you, Eaton?”
Among the people busily preparing for the festival, a soldier smoking a cigarette asked the comrade beside him.
He shook his head vaguely.
“Well, I’ll just ask whoever catches my eye later.”
“All the pretty ones probably have partners already. We could’ve just all danced together. I don’t know why they had to decide on partners.”
“They’re imitating it, I suppose. Like a ball.”
One young soldier whispered to a comrade hanging lanterns from the eaves of the town hall.
“Come to think of it, I heard that woman’s coming too. You know, that rich woman.”
The man took a lantern from his comrade’s hand and hung it up as he spoke.
“I heard too. But hasn’t Hampshire’s son already snatched her up? That man’s trying even harder than we are.”
The festival truly began in the evening, but the surroundings were already buzzing with anticipation.
Soon, as morning passed and the sun climbed high into the sky, casting a golden glow over the transformed Lansfield, the very air trembled with expectation.
Children ran between the legs of busy adults, their laughter mingling with the steady sound of hammering and the occasional sharp command.
The smell of roasting meat began to mix with the scent of decorative flowers.
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Before the first rays of dawn could seep through the window of Isaac’s narrow quarters, he was already out of bed.
His body woke naturally at early hours. But today was no ordinary day. The Midsummer Festival had arrived, and with it, the time for him to escort Sasha Grayson was drawing near.
Partner? Fiancée? The words meant to describe their arrangement suddenly seemed absurdly inadequate for the emotions swirling inside him.
Isaac stood before the modest mirror leaning against the wall and scrutinized his reflection with a critical eye.
His usually stern features had been softened by the shadow of a beard that had grown overnight.
With a slight frown, he picked up his razor, the ivory handle cool and familiar in his grasp.
The rhythmic sound of steel scraping over skin filled the small room, and he slowly removed every trace of stubble.
His movements were precise and economical. Each motion was almost meditative, diverting his thoughts from the unease simmering beneath the surface.
As he rinsed the razor, Isaac’s mind turned to Sasha. What would she look like today?
Recalling her as she had been at their last meeting, bathed in the evening glow, an unexpected warmth filled his chest. He shook his head as though trying to physically cast the thought away.
“Get a hold of yourself, Isaac.”
He muttered to himself in the mirror.
Now clean-shaven, Isaac turned his attention to his hair.
He combed it meticulously, making sure every strand was perfectly in place. When he applied a little pomade to his black hair, the faint scent of sandalwood and citrus filled the air.
His fingers, calloused from handling weapons and climbing ropes, moved with surprising gentleness as they arranged his hair into a neat style befitting the dignity of an officer.
Good. Now that he had done this much, he looked somewhat presentable. It was far better than his usual tousled hair.
Next, he put on a crisp, starched white shirt and adjusted his dark green jacket.
As he tied the laces of his polished black shoes, the final step in his ritual of preparation, Isaac found himself wondering how Sasha would see him in his dress uniform.
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To state the conclusion first, she had little interest in him.
Of course, the moment she saw him, she had said with a pleased expression, “You look wonderful,” but that was only about as much as saying “hello” with a bit more care.
Miss Grayson wore a green dress. It was not simply ornate, but a comfortable-looking dress that seemed to have taken a reasonable degree of mobility into account.
So I’m the peacock again.
If there was any consolation, it was that this dress uniform suited him far better than that tuxedo had.
They met and joined up sometime in the afternoon, after noon had passed.
Sasha marveled like a child at every place he took her, and she could hardly pass by the stalls set up here and there without trying each one herself.
As they continued walking, with Sasha’s arm still linked through his, Isaac became increasingly aware of her presence.
The subtle scent of her perfume, the warmth of her body close to his, the sound of her laughter. All of it combined into a dizzying mixture that threatened to overwhelm the composure he had so carefully maintained.
Soon, the climax of the festival arrived.
“I’m really looking forward to the parade.”
Just as her excited words suggested, everyone was waiting with expectant faces for the procession that would soon follow.
As they found a place in the crowd, Isaac tried to focus on the approaching parade. His training told him not to lower his guard and to watch for potential security risks.
But with Sasha beside him, her eyes shining with excitement, he found it increasingly difficult to think of anything but her.
The sound of drums rang out across the village square, announcing the start of the parade.
Isaac instinctively straightened his posture, despite being distracted by the warmth of Sasha’s arm touching his.
The crowd around them fell quiet, swelling with anticipation, countless eager faces turning toward the main road.
“They’re coming!”
Someone nearby murmured.
The first row of soldiers came into view. Then the 4th Infantry Regiment marched in perfect formation, their boots striking the cobblestones in unison and creating a rhythm that seemed to make the entire air vibrate.
“It’s truly impressive. It seems much larger in scale than what I saw in the capital.”
Sasha said.
Isaac nodded, trying to concentrate on the scene before him. He gave a stiff nod and kept his words brief.
Ironically, though he was surrounded by the very embodiment of military discipline, he himself was struggling to maintain his own.
As the last unit finished the parade and passed by, the crowd began to disperse in excited chatter.