The morning sky above the capital of Nightingale was painted in vibrant colors. The sun had yet to rise high, but cheers and applause echoed from the outer walls to the heart of the palace. Deep blue flags adorned with crescent moons fluttered in every corner of the city, greeted by smiling faces and joyful tears. The army that had departed in silence was now returning in honor.
Supply wagons and carts carrying the wounded rolled slowly over the cobbled streets. Behind them marched lines of armored soldiers, their gear stained with mud and blood, but their heads held high. Among them, young and old faces shared the same expression: victory.
