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Atutania was a paradoxical city. There was, without doubt, nowhere else in Lacorron quite like it; nowhere was grand in the same idyllic way, as tempered and bountiful in equal measure, as poised and peaceful. And yet, at the same time—and at especially [i]this[/i] time—everywhere in Lacorron was exactly like it. Or, rather, Atutania was exactly like everywhere else. After all, a shield to the world, welcoming all behind it, could not help but reflect the peoples it protected. And so, on the Day of Heroes, Atutania was also Giellnal, Hahral, Ienarich, Itenaire and, perhaps, just a little bit, Viridian. City and Kingdom and Confederacy all at once, like everywhere and nowhere else. 

Had Ionna not grown up on its streets, she might have gotten lost in the strangeness and clamor. The roads bristled with eager, uncertain traffic, carts and wagons and palanquins moved in staggered lines, carried by all manner of hoofed things. Guards ferried powdered nobility, merchant lords, eyed each other with mixtures of respect and unspoken challenge. Impromptu markets sprung up in the byways, parks became rest stops and meeting and greeting grounds. Confederate salesmen bartered with pelts and crude but unimpeachably sturdy tools; Hahral vendors hocked oils, wooden toys, beautiful paintings of places lost to the sands between the cities; Itenaire bravos offered expensive but assuredly crucial last-minute training to nervous initiates avoiding the trial grounds; here and there, street magicians wearing Giellnal colors drew small crowds to fill their hats with coin. Some, Ionna recognized, were Atutanian natives, but what did that really matter in the face of good fun?

And, she thought, good food. 

The air was overwhelmed with foreign aromas, with smoke, fish, honeyed pork and roasting beef, with boiling oil, candied apples, chocolate and salt-and-caramel. In some places the tangle was so thick and unplaceable it could spoil the appetite, but from where Ionna walked, all she could smell was nostalgia. 

She’d had almost all these foods once or twice, if not during the Day of Heroes, then in the lands of their origins, served at host tables or shared around communal, roadside campfires with other travelers. She thought of stories, and songs, and dances she’d learned. It was all she could do not to take a plate of curried chicken or steaming pilaf with her, but she couldn’t indulge yet. Today her meal had been quite utilitarian, and while she’d given herself time to wander and take in the quasi-familiar sights of her home, she still had a duty to fulfill. 

So, dutifully, she bought only one modestly-sized packet of Hahral hard candy, and then pried herself from the cultural collage to follow a stream of hopefuls anxiously moving towards the proving grounds. The city officials were making good time processing them all, but by now Atutania had the Day down to a science, and the line hardly stalled enough to stand still in. Before long, she was ushered towards one of the sign-in desks, to an attendant who didn’t even bat an eye when she teasingly told him her name was ‘[i]Ionathan[/i]’, but who suddenly found his sense of humor when he saw the Rielle crest on her shoulder-cloak. 

“Will you be needing an explanation, milady?” he asked. 

“[color=ed145b]Nah, I’m sure I can figure out a way to embarrass myself,[/color]” she said, and placed one of the candies on his ledger, before heading onto the grounds. 

She popped another into her mouth as she walked, smiling at the memories its sweetness brought her. The trials were only just beginning, but already the range, the dummies, and the ring were teeming with competition. Ionna wasn’t averse to it, but by the end of the day there would be no shortage of bruised egos and broken dreams, people who had come from far and wide that wouldn’t make the cut, and would have to carry themselves home, hoping their drive would survive until the next Day of Heroes. That was the underside to all this celebration, the sobering realization that not everyone could be a hero. 

But, Ionna liked to think, many people [i]could[/i]—even those who doubted themselves. Especially those who doubted themselves. 

For now Ionna wandered, observing the various trials, cheering on the meekest contestants, giving enthusiastic congratulations to the winners and rallying consolations to those who lesser performed. She offered candy to anyone who happened to make prolonged eye-contact with her, or who lingered too long within candy-offering range. Some accepted happily, others declined like she might have been offering them poison. She went on mingling anyway. 

There would be time enough for trials, but in the back of her mind, Liura reminded her that she should never miss an opportunity to make some friends.