Location: Citadel Council Chamber – Morning
The Citadel's grand Council Chamber shimmered with banners of every realm—emerald greens, sapphire blues, obsidian blacks, and flame‑red silks. Itsuki Hiroto sat slumped at the central round table, still in his flour‑smudged baker's cloak, cup of Dawn‑Mist Tea in hand. Around him, ambassadors and sovereigns rose in turn to extend heartfelt thanks…and equally heartfelt offers of land, titles, and marriage.
One by one they spoke:
Queen Maren of the Sea‑Serpent Empire, draped in coral‑bead finery, bowed low. "Great Hiroto, wed me, and our naval fleets shall honor your banner."
King Rowan of the Forest Elves, eyes luminous, offered his enchanted woodland—"for your cottage of eternal calm."
Empress Drusilla of the Demon Realm, horns politely hidden beneath a silken hood, pressed a pact of infernal commerce—"Your word equals law in our forges."
Chieftain Horin of the Beastfolk, antlers festooned with garlands, proposed a herd‑owner's charter—"Your flannel‑spun decrees shall govern grazing rights."
Archon Celestine of the Sky Riders, wings tucked beneath a feathered mantle, extended an aerial dominion—"All wind currents bow to your will."
Hiroto swallowed his tea. Wedding invitations before breakfast? He forced a polite smile. "Esteemed friends… I am honored, truly. But my heart belongs to… well, my teacup and my cot." He cleared his throat. "I must respectfully decline."
A murmur of dismay rose. Queen Maren's coral beads rattled. King Rowan's brow furrowed. Empress Drusilla pouted. Chieftain Horin stomped a hoof. Archon Celestine folded her arms.
Before the chamber could erupt in polite indignation, General Tyrus stepped forward, booming, "Hiroto has saved our worlds through sleep‑borne miracles. Let us offer him at least one simple gift: the freedom to return home."
Chancellor Beltram hammered his gavel. "Agreed. We stand in his debt—yet cannot compel his service any longer." He turned to Hiroto. "By Council decree, you are granted safe passage wherever you choose—and leave the Citadel unmolested."
Hiroto bowed, eyes bright with relief. "Thank you. I… will take you at your word."
---
Location: Citadel Private Audience Room – Late Morning
In the ornate Private Audience Room, silk‑tapestried walls and carved oak chairs awaited Hiroto's final meeting: the Peace Talks Wrap‑Up. Seated across from him were Cardinal Elgar, Arch‑Treasurer Lavros, and the Master of Ceremonies, a harried clerk juggling three stacks of scrolls.
Lavros cleared his throat. "Guildmaster, before your departure, we require the final signatures on the Accord of Eternal Rest, the Treaty of Slumbering Peace, and the Pact of Dream‑Woven Unity." He slid over three quills—each dipped in a different color of ink.
Hiroto rubbed his temples. "Three more scrolls?"
Elgar offered a sympathetic smile. "Just standard procedure."
Hiroto dipped the quill in blue ink. "I… promise these will be the last." He signed one, then another, then the third—his handwriting increasingly shaky.
The clerk beamed, stamping each with embossed seals. "Thank you, sir! The world can sleep soundly now." He scurried away with the scrolls.
Lavros produced a golden key. "As token, the Key to the Citadel Gate—use it whenever you wish." He pressed the key into Hiroto's hand. "And your official title: Sleeper‑King of Solencia."
Hiroto stared at the ornate key—bedecked with tiny teacup and spine engravings. "I… think I'll just go home."
---
Location: Solencia Outer Gate – Early Afternoon
The Outer Gate towers loomed above, their iron‑bound oaken doors flanked by cheering guards. Hiroto approached—key in hand—with Virelya, Sera, General Tyrus, and a retinue of Honor Guard in tow.
Sera tossed him a satchel. "Your emergency teacups, signed off by the Council."
Virelya stepped forward. "Are you sure about this? Once you go, you might never come back."
Hiroto pocketed the key. "If the world still needs me, they know where to find me." He paused. "Well, I hope they do."
From the ramparts, the guards sounded a final salute. The massive doors creaked open. Sunlight poured in.
Hiroto took a deep breath.
---
Location: Road to the Countryside – Mid‑Afternoon
Beyond the city walls, the road wound through rolling hills and golden fields. Birds sang; merchants waved their miniature horns—"Safe travels, Sleeper‑King!"—and children scampered alongside, chanting, "Rest well, Rest well!"
Hiroto ambled along, backpack slung over one shoulder, pockets jingling with Council‑gifted tokens. Virelya rode beside him on horseback; Sera hopped along, humming a tea‑shop tune; Tyrus followed on foot, arms folded.
After a few miles, the procession dwindled. Tyrus stopped, nodding. "This is where I leave you. My orders: ensure you actually… sleep."
They clasped forearms in solemn farewell. Virelya dismounted, offering Hiroto a small leather pouch. "For emergencies." Inside were three small wards—Wake‑Call Charms, inscribed with morning runes.
Hiroto accepted, voice soft. "Thank you—for everything."
They embraced briefly. Then, Virelya mounted and spurred her horse away, leaving Hiroto and Sera alone on the dusty road.
---
Location: Hiroto's Cottage – Sunset
By sunset, Hiroto's familiar cottage came into view. Smoke curled from the chimney; wildflowers glowed at the fence. Birds alighted on the roof, as though eager to welcome him.
He paused at the gate, breathing deep the scent of woodsmoke and lavender. Home.
Sera grinned. "I'll see you at dawn."
Hiroto opened the door. The interior was exactly as he'd left it: a low table, a battered chair, a crate‑turned‑bookshelf, and a straw mattress in the corner. On the table, a note in Sera's neat script:
> "Rest, Hiroto. The world is in good hands. Tea's on the stove."
He set down his satchel and removed the Key to the Citadel Gate, placing it on the shelf—a silent promise that he could return, but need not.
Hiroto sank onto the mattress, robe falling loose, boots kicked aside. Sera's note fluttered as he exhaled in relief.
He closed his eyes, mouth twitching into a grin.
---
Location: Hiroto's Cottage – Night
Moonlight filtered through the window as Hiroto drifted off. A gentle breeze stirred the curtains, carrying the midnight fragrance of tea leaves. The snore he emitted was soft, even, and utterly content.
Outside, the world beyond Solencia settled into calm: the Citadel gates remained unlocked, the Alliance Accord signed into law, and every realm—from demon scions to elf songweavers—held its breath in grateful peace.
And in the quiet of his humble cottage, Itsuki Hiroto—the clerk who never sought greatness but achieved it inadvertently—finally slept… at last, at home.