He Who Remains

Sol, now sixteen, stood gazing over the vast valley below, his eyes fixed on the rising sun. His birthday had passed quietly just yesterday a day that, for most in Black Pearl City, would have been marked with grand celebrations and a coming-of-age ceremony. But for Sol, there was no one to care for him, no festivity to honor his growth. He had simply slept as usual and awoken early to witness the dawn breaking over the valley, a sight that had become his quiet ritual.

After a while the Sun crept though the edge of the horizon, Sol climbed down from the rock, the chill of the early morning air brushing against his skin. He made his way down the mountain, to the small river that ran near his hut. The cold water stung as he bathed quickly, washing away the fatigue of sleep. He dressed in the plain black robe given to him by the restaurant, tied it at the waist, and started his daily journey back to the city.

Today, the restaurant was unusually quiet. There were no deliveries to make, no errands to run. Sol had finished his chores cleaning dishes and sweeping floors and now sat at the entry gate of the Helvig family restaurant, the stillness of the slow day settling over him. His chair creaked slightly as he leaned back, eyes half-closed, allowing himself a rare moment of relaxation.

Then, the distant sound of hooves caught his attention. Sol straightened up, his gaze shifting toward the road. He saw the familiar figure of Mr. Garrick approaching on horseback. The older man’s stern face was softened slightly by the morning light, but his presence always commanded respect. Quickly, Sol got to his feet, brushing off his robe and standing at attention as the horse came closer.

“Good morning, Mr. Garrick,” Sol greeted him, his voice calm but respectful, as always. He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Garrick dismounted with a grunt, nodding in response. “Morning, lad. All quiet here today?” he asked, giving Sol a once-over before glancing toward the empty road and the nearly deserted restaurant.

“Yes, sir. Not much work today,” Sol replied, his hands folded neatly in front of him, awaiting instruction.

“Hmm,” Mr. Garrick responded with a thoughtful hum as he strode into the restaurant. With a small gesture, he signaled for Sol to follow him. “I just returned from the Helvig manor,” he began, his voice steady and calm. “The young miss of the Helvig family will be celebrating her birthday three days from now, and it’s been decided that the event will take place here.”

Sol trailed behind Mr. Garrick, listening intently. A few other servants, having noticed Mr. Garrick’s arrival, gathered around him. They greeted him respectfully, their curiosity piqued by his words.

Mr. Garrick continued, his tone shifting to something more serious, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group. “Everything needs to be done in an orderly manner,” he said, pausing briefly to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “If even one thing is not taken care of properly, I’ll have your head.”

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, knowing full well the gravity of the situation. The Helvig family’s status was unmatched in Black Pearl City, and their events were nothing short of grand spectacles.

“And as you all know,” Mr. Garrick said, his voice lowering, “the young miss’s temperament is… particular. So I’d advise each of you to be on your best behavior, or face the consequences.”

Sol remained silent, standing among the others. He wasn’t intimidated, but he understood the weight of the event. He knew better than anyone that mistakes, especially in a place like this, were unforgivable. This was not just a job it was survival.

“It won’t just be the young miss,” Mr. Garrick added, his voice heavy with importance. “Many dignitaries and people of high standing will be attending. This is more than just a birthday it’s an event that will have the entire city’s eyes on us.”

The weight of his words settled over the room, thick and suffocating. The other servants exchanged nervous glances, but no one dared to speak.

“Everything has to be perfect,” Mr. Garrick continued, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for any sign of doubt. “This is an opportunity for the Helvig family to showcase their prestige. If we fail—” He left the rest unsaid, but the silence that followed was enough to make the consequences clear.

“Dismissed,” Mr. Garrick said sharply, his tone leaving no room for questions. “Begin the preparations immediately.”

The staff scattered to their tasks, and the restaurant was closed for the three days leading up to the young miss’s birthday. The work was grueling. Every inch of the restaurant had to be scrubbed, polished, and transformed. Furniture was moved, the floors were cleaned, and elaborate decorations were hung from the ceiling. Soft lights were carefully arranged to create a warm and inviting glow, but the most important detail was the addition of something the young miss adored, Peach trees.

The problem, however, was that it wasn’t spring, and no real peach trees were in bloom. Still, a peach tree was required, even if it was artificial. Someone had to fetch it from a merchant at the other end of the city who specialized in such decorations. That someone, of course, was Sol.

The task, like all the others, was assigned to him in silence. Without complaint, he accepted it. Sol was always the one given the most difficult and thankless jobs, partly because he never refused or argued.

Dragging the massive decorative peach tree across the city was no small feat. The merchant had not made it any easier, fastening the tree with tight ropes and leaving it to Sol to transport. It took him six hours, muscles aching, hands blistered from gripping the coarse rope. He didn’t stop, not even for a moment.

As the tree scraped along the cobbled streets, drawing curious stares from onlookers, Sol’s mind was empty, focused only on the task at hand. By the time he arrived back at the restaurant, dusk had settled over the city. He stood there for a moment, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, but as always, he showed no outward sign of frustration or fatigue.

The night was quiet as Sol locked up the restaurant, the final clink of the latch echoing in the empty street. Everyone had left long ago, the day’s hard labor leaving the restaurant spotless and prepared for the grand event tomorrow. Sol finished his closing tasks in silence, wiping down the last few surfaces, arranging chairs, and ensuring everything was in its proper place.

As he stepped out into the cool night air, the sky was already darkening. The street lamps had begun to flicker on, casting soft glows along the cobbled roads. Sol pulled his black robe tighter around him and began his journey home, his feet instinctively following the familiar path toward the city gates.

Suddenly, the quiet night was interrupted by a loud boom then another, and another. Sol stopped in his tracks, looking up as bursts of color exploded across the night sky. Fireworks. Bright reds, golds, and blues lit up the heavens in radiant displays. For a moment, the city seemed to pause, bathed in the fleeting glow of the fireworks.

The source of the fireworks was unmistakable, The Helvig manor. The grand celebration for the young miss’s birthday had already begun, and these were merely the opening displays. Even from this distance, Sol could hear the faint sounds of laughter and music from the manor, carried on the breeze.

Sol stood there, watching the sky as the fireworks lit up the horizon. It was a beautiful sight, one that would make most people stop and admire, but Sol felt nothing. No joy, no excitement, not even curiosity. The celebration belonged to a world far removed from his own a world of wealth, privilege, and joy that he had never been part of.

With one last glance at the fireworks, Sol resumed his walk. The distant noise and light faded behind him as he neared the gates, the brilliant flashes in the sky becoming a mere reflection in the back of his mind. The world continued on with its celebrations, but for Sol, the night was just another ending to a day spent working.

Sol fell into a deep sleep the moment he hit the bed, his body grateful for the rest after a long day of preparations. The next morning, the rising sun’s light streamed through the small window, warming his face and gently pulling him from the deep sleep. Blinking against the bright streak of light, he realized he had overslept. Panic shot through him but he knew if he hurried, he might still make it to the restaurant on time.

He jumped out of bed and rushed to the river, splashing cold water on his face to shake off the remnants of sleep. The chill invigorated him, sharpening his senses as he quickly washed up. After dressing in the familiar black robe from the restaurant, he felt a sense of urgency swell within him. Sol raced through the familiar paths leading back to the restaurant. The air was crisp and alive with the sounds of morning, a distant rooster crowing, the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the soft murmur of people beginning their day in the city. As he neared the restaurant, the scents of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee wafted through the air, igniting a pang of hunger in his stomach. He pushed it aside, knowing that today would be a whirlwind of activity.

Arriving at the restaurant, Sol took a moment to steady his breathing before entering. The grand space was already bustling with energy. Servants darted to and fro, their expressions a mix of excitement and stress as they prepared for the lavish banquet ahead. Sol stepped inside, ready to take on whatever tasks awaited him.

Everything went smoothly as the dignitaries and elite of Black Pearl City began to filter into the grand restaurant. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, the air thick with the mingling scents of rich food and fragrant flowers. Sol found himself caught in a whirlwind of activity, moving swiftly from one task to another, never allowing himself a moment’s rest. The patrons shouted commands without even a glance his way “Boy, come here! Clean this up!” and he simply nodded, accustomed to their indifference.

As the minutes passed, the restaurant filled to capacity. Ornate chandeliers hung overhead, casting a warm, flickering glow that danced across the polished black marble floors. Elegant drapes framed the tall windows, partially obscuring the view of the bustling city outside. Servants scurried about, ensuring that every detail was perfect for the arrival of the Helvig family. Whispers of excitement circulated among the staff, all eager to catch a glimpse of the young miss. It was said she was one of the most breathtaking beauties in the city, possessing an ethereal charm that could enthrall anyone lucky enough to be graced by her presence, but the most frightening thing of all was something else Amidst the murmurs of the guests, talk of a potential engagement to Prince Caelum of Hadeland rippled through the crowd.

The mere mention of his name sent shivers of excitement and speculation through the elite. The prince was no ordinary royal; Known for his striking good looks, intelligence, and unmatched prowess in battle, he had earned the admiration of nobles and commoners alike. His reputation as a skilled diplomat and strategist preceded him, Men aspired to emulate him, while women dreamed of winning his heart. His presence alone could sway allegiances and shift the balance of power in the region.

As the murmurs continued, The guests soon heard that the Helvig family would be arriving shortly, and a ripple of excitement swept through the restaurant. Everyone sprang into action, taking their assigned positions with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. Servants adjusted their attire, smoothing out wrinkles, while others hurriedly organized the last-minute details of the banquet.

Soon, a carriage appeared in the distance a white carriage gleaming as though stars were embedded in its surface. It moved steadily toward the entrance, gliding over the road. Drawn by immaculate, silvery horses that seemed almost spectral, the carriage moved with an elegance that held the entire street captive. With a final, graceful screech, the carriage halted at the entrance, its elaborate silver trim catching the light and casting shimmering reflections across the ground. The pristine finish seemed to capture the attention of everyone nearby, each detail of its craftsmanship sparkling under the daylight, hinting at the wealth and prestige of those within. As it screeched to a stop at the entrance, a hush fell over the crowd, anticipation thickening in the air.

As the door of the carriage creaked open, the anticipation thickened, and all eyes were drawn, waiting to catch a glimpse of the figure whose mere presence had brought the city to a standstill.

Lady Elara Helvig was a vision of elegance and grace. She turned seventeen today. Her flowing gown, spun from the finest silks in hues of soft blush, hugged her form perfectly, accentuating her delicate curves while cascading down to the floor like a gentle waterfall. Intricate embroidery adorned the fabric, glimmering subtly in the warm light, each stitch reflecting her family’s wealth and status. Her long, chestnut hair fell in loose waves down her back, framing her face with an enchanting softness. Delicate tendrils brushed against her porcelain skin, which seemed to glow from within, illuminated by the soft glow of the chandeliers. Lady Elara’s eyes, a mesmerizing shade of emerald green, sparkled with an intensity that captivated all who met her gaze. They held a depth that spoke of wisdom beyond her years, hinting at the strength of character that lay beneath her striking exterior.

As she moved through the crowd, a gracefulness accompanied her every step, almost as if she floated above the polished black marble floor. The whispers grew louder, awestruck murmurs of admiration from guests captivated by her presence. She carried herself with a regal poise, her chin held high, exuding confidence that was both magnetic and intimidating.

With a proud smile playing on her lips, she greeted her guests, her voice smooth and melodic. “Welcome, everyone! I trust you’ve found the restaurant to your liking,” she said, her tone laced with warmth, yet there was an undeniable authority that commanded attention.

Sol, however, was not among the bustling crowd. He had been assigned to the garden, a serene but lonely space, left empty as the festivities unfolded indoors. The vibrant flowers swayed gently in the evening breeze, and the scent of fresh blooms mingled with the crisp air, creating an atmosphere that felt almost ethereal.

He stood beneath the lush canopy of a flowering tree, its branches heavy with blossoms that glowed softly in the fading light. His colleagues had all but thrown him here to keep him away from the main event and the allure of the young lady. They gossiped eagerly about her beauty, recounting tales of how her laughter could light up a room and how her presence commanded attention. But Sol had no interest in these things whatsoever.

The whispers of admiration and longing for the young miss were lost on him. Beauty was a luxury he could neither afford nor appreciate. He had learned to guard his heart, to distance himself from the dreams of youth that others chased. Instead, he found a strange sense of comfort in the quiet of the garden, where the noise of the celebration felt muted and distant.

As he stood there, he absentmindedly picked at the petals of a nearby flower, letting them fall like soft snowflakes to the ground. The night deepened around him, and the vibrant colors of the garden began to blend into shadows. He listened to the faint sounds of laughter and music wafting through the air. In this moment, Sol felt a sense of acceptance wash over him. He had long since come to terms with his role as an observer in a life full of spectacle and longing, a boy who had learned to remain in the background, unnoticed and unbothered by the light that shone so brightly just out of reach.