Night had already settled over Sorriso when the festival finally began to disperse.

  The food stalls were packed with people wanting another taste of Feijoada Sorriso and Delicate Pudding, which had become instant legends.

  Lukas walked among the makeshift tables, still carrying the tournament’s chief’s hat under his arm.

  Wherever he went, people called out his name — greetings he still didn’t quite know how to return.

  — “Sir Lukas!” — shouted a baker, holding up a clay bowl. — “Is it true you’ll let any tavern serve your dishes?”

  — “If they pay the tax, yes.” — He gave a tired smile. — “I want every worker to have the right to eat good food.”

  — “You heard him!” — The man turned to the crowd. — “He wants the poor to eat well too!”

  The plaza erupted in applause.

  Lukas felt his ears burn. He wanted to vanish… or maybe just breathe quietly for a while.

  — “There he is…” — a mocking voice said. — “Our little brother, turned into a culinary celebrity.”

  Valquíria appeared, arms crossed, a teasing smile on her face.

  — “So, you going to open a tavern? Or just collect taxes and pay for company when you lose the next round?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  — “At least someone will want my money.” — Lukas shot back, dryly.

  Luiz showed up beside her, looking bored.

  — “Hmmm… he’s got a point, sis.” — he said, scratching his chin. — “Do you know how many girls showed up at my house when I announced I’d be tasting the Smiling Rice? At least twenty.”

  He sighed. — “If I’d known, I would’ve learned to fry bacon too.”

  — “Go ahead and laugh.” — Lukas pointed at them. — “But when this is over, I’ll have the most respected… and best-fed house in the whole Empire.”

  — “Just don’t burn the eggs again.” — Valquíria teased with a wink.

  He was about to reply when Sarya Veyrunn approached.

  — “I have to admit…” — she said seriously. — “I didn’t expect your cooking talent to be so… respectable.”

  — “Thanks, I guess.” — Lukas sighed. — “And you… approved?”

  — “The Smiling Croquette is… addictive.” — Sarya averted her gaze, cheeks faintly red. — “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

  — “Too late.” — Aníbal said, appearing with a plate in hand. — “I heard everything.”

  Amélia arrived soon after, holding a pudding and blushing to her ears.

  — “Sir Lukas…” — she stammered. — “Thank you… for… for thinking of the common folk…”

  — “Don’t call me sir.” — He smiled gently. — “We’re a team.”

  High above, in the royal balcony, Kyros stood with arms crossed, watching the crowd.

  — “Look at that…” — said Emperor Pedro, sipping his wine. — “Can’t recall you ever attending a festival where your son was celebrated.”

  — “It’s a first…” — Kyros admitted, in a tone caught between pride and disbelief.

  Elizabeth, beside them, sighed dramatically.

  — “Oh, Kyros… how did that boy inherit your charm but not your eyes?” — She rested her chin in her hands. — “If he were my son, I’d make him marry before every woman from every race tries to kidnap him.”

  — “Elizabeth…” — The Emperor rolled his eyes. — “Enough.”

  — “Just saying.” — She raised an eyebrow. — “It’s a waste.”

  Kyros smiled faintly.

  — “He’s Lukas. And no matter how much the world tries to break him… he’ll always find a way to stand.”

  Inside Lukas’s mind, César spoke proudly:

  — “You’ve built more than a victory today. You raised the name of your House… and of those who have no voice.”

  Morgana sighed sweetly:

  — “And tomorrow, you’ll raise other things… if you invite me to your bed.”

  — “Morgana…” — Lukas pressed his fingers to his temple. — “One day, I swear I’ll trap you in a jar.”

  — “Empty promises…”

  As he walked away from the plaza, he felt that this night would be remembered for a long time —

  not just for filling Sorriso’s stomachs, but for feeding its hope, if only for a few hours.

  End of Chapter 24