The sun finally rose from the pale horizon, its golden glow painting all things in the world with the colors of life, the colors of beginning. The streets and alleys gradually became bustling with complaints, hawking, laughter, scolding—some chaotic yet filled with the profitable symphony of the marketplace, kicking off the day in Lutèce.
What a beautiful morning it was, but what could bring better spirits than a vibrant start? Especially for the citizens of Lutèce, who suffered from lack of resources, stalemate in warfare, and political instability; they desperately needed something to brighten their spirits, even if it was just a steady daily start to give them a bit of comfort.
Yet, for those who saw no hope, this brilliant sunshine served merely as a countdown timer, inching them closer to the abyss.
It had been said, "For the condemned, the true terror is not the execution itself, but the process of waiting for it to be carried out."
