This day, Aslan was practicing magic with Morgan when suddenly a lively noise drifted into his ears. It seemed that there was some sort of celebration going on in the nearby city outside the carriage. Before long, someone arrived by their carriage, gently knocking on the door. It was a boy with a smile on his face, but his body looked extremely thin.
"Hello! We are holding a celebration. Though there are no special or expensive dishes, would you like to join us and share in the joy?"
From the clothes the boy was wearing, it was clear he was just an ordinary citizen of the border area.
Aslan leaned out of the carriage window and saw that it wasn't just the boy, but a group of villagers celebrating together. They greeted every passerby with smiles and invited them to join in their festival.
Morgan, as always, wore an expression as if everything in the world had nothing to do with her. She showed no curiosity or desire to join in the celebration.
On the other hand, Melusine stretched her head out, slightly raising her nose to inhale the air. She could smell the scent of roasted meat drifting through the air. Though it wasn't as delicious as Aslan's cooking, it was still a rare treat. It seemed these people were genuinely celebrating the day.
But in such a region, frequently plagued by conflict and war, what exactly were they celebrating?
Aslan turned his gaze back to the boy by the carriage, his face still smiling. He asked gently, "Could you tell us why you're celebrating?"
The boy scratched his forehead, carefully recalling what his elders had told him. He then explained, "Under the rule of the false king (Vortigern), there were many battles here. Our lives were never guaranteed. But now, we've successfully resisted!"
The boy clenched his fists, looking extremely excited. It was clear that he was genuinely happy about their resistance. However, judging by his age, it was probably more because of the roasting meat being cooked than the victory itself.
Nevertheless, the whole town was filled with a joyful atmosphere. More and more passersby, or perhaps soldiers, joined in the celebration.
Aslan glanced over at Morgan, sitting composed inside the carriage. Her black veil covered her expression, and since they were still companions, he felt he should consult her about whether they should join in the celebration or not.
"Well..." Aslan thought for a moment but still couldn't find the right words. Although talking to this sorceress wasn't difficult, Morgan didn't seem the type to want to participate in such celebrations. However, the reality turned out a little differently than Aslan expected. Before he could figure out how to word his thoughts, Morgan raised her hand, and a magical light enveloped the entire carriage.
When the magical aura gradually faded, the whole carriage became still.
"Don't worry about me," Morgan said, her eyes visible through the black veil as she looked at Aslan. "I don't care about this."
Whether they joined the celebration or not, whether the surroundings were lively or calm—it had no bearing on her.
Leaving aside how Morgan would truly respond to such a situation, as a simulated personality, she prioritized protecting herself. Unless it was a situation of severe conflict, she wouldn't engage with the boy in front of them.
Melusine pouted and almost said something like, "Don't mind this solitary sorceress," but she stopped herself. After all, Aslan was still learning magic from Morgan, and the ultimate goal of the lessons would involve her as well. As Aslan's main partner—well, she was his only partner—she couldn't afford to make trouble for him now.
Considering that this sorceress was less than twenty years old, only forty-six billion years younger than herself, Melusine felt there was no need to quarrel with such a young girl. With that thought, she felt much more at ease.
A smile returned to Melusine's face as she leaned back against Aslan, who was driving the carriage. She gently swung her legs and hummed an unfamiliar song. If one listened carefully, it was clear that the song was a magical remixed version of a tune Aslan had once hummed. This 46-billion-year-old dragon seemed as happy as a ten-year-old child.
The carriage soon reached the stables of the castle. The castle appeared a bit run-down, as if it had endured a major battle. However, despite its dilapidation, colorful banners hung everywhere, making it clear the place had been hurriedly decorated. While simple, it didn't detract from the festive atmosphere.
The boy clapped his hands and pointed to the castle, speaking to Aslan, "The castle is mostly empty now, and we've prepared rooms for the guests. Fortunately, there are still many intact rooms."
Aslan glanced at the damaged castle before nodding. In reality, even if the rooms were a little damaged, it didn't matter. As long as they could shield themselves from the wind and rain, it would be fine. They even had the tools to set up tents with them. Staying in a relatively well-kept room and setting up a tent was certainly better than sleeping outside, using the sky as a blanket and the ground as a bed.
Though Aslan agreed to join the celebration, he didn't participate in the lively celebration with the townspeople. He spent more time in his room, organizing and reflecting on the magic he had learned.
Melusine, however, took full advantage of the festivity to fill her rather empty stomach—after all, she was a dragon.
Once inside her room, Morgan immediately began setting up a tent using magic. After entering, she stopped paying attention to what was happening outside.
The celebration lasted until dusk, with more and more people joining in. As nightfall approached, the celebration seemed to wind down. People slowly returned to their homes, but the food and drinks were left untouched, suggesting that the festivities would continue the next day.
The boy who had invited Aslan and the others to join the celebration smiled as he lay down in his bed. The moon slowly rose to the top of the sky. Then, suddenly, the boy shot upright in bed. His face was no longer joyful but filled with fear.
Other villagers who had also been startled awake shared the same fear. The boy stared at his hands, eyes wide with shock. He then covered his eyes with his hands, tears streaming down his face. This wasn't a celebration day at all—it had all been a false dream, a fabrication based on hypnotic magic, the grandest of lies.
Now, the clock had passed midnight, and just like in fairy tales, reality had finally caught up with them—the dream was over.