The deafening cheers did not fade after the royal float passed. Instead, like a surging wave returning after the ebb, they swept through all of Votradnoi with even greater fervor.
The air carried the sweet scent of baked bread, the faint saltiness of sweat, the fragrance of flowers, and that ever-present trace of machine oil and steam from the Mechanicus Cult's creations.
In this joyous, almost suffocating ocean, Home Alone moved silently, like an insignificant drop of water.
He wore the same rough linen clothes as the farmers, workers, and ordinary townsfolk around him, washed pale and even deliberately smeared with a few spots of dirt and grease.
Messy hair covered his forehead, and his face wore a mixture of wonder and mild exhaustion, an expression common enough on outsiders attending such a grand festival for the first time.
He even held a half-eaten ear of roasted corn that had already gone a little cold, taking the occasional bite and blending perfectly into the background.
Only his eyes, hidden beneath his messy hair and deliberately lowered lids, calmly surveyed everything around him.
His steps seemed casual as the crowd jostled him, yet he always managed to deftly avoid the tightest crushes. Like a fish swimming upstream through a rushing stream, he maintained a subtle measure of control.
Just moments earlier, when Chris's royal float passed, everyone had cheered and jumped for joy. Only Home Alone had kept moving, searching for someone.
Home Alone kept firmly in mind that he was here to work.
The Harvest Festival, the coronation, the royal wedding... three joyous occasions at once, and the whole nation was celebrating.
Behind this enormous joy lay the greatest possible display of the kingdom's power, but also a moment when its defenses were scattered and dulled by the festive atmosphere.