And nowhere was it more evident than Sky Bay.

For those who had long since kept their mouths shut under the reign of kings who would shut it for them in unpleasant ways through their oppressive laws no longer had to hide behind closed doors and whisper amongst those like-minded about the impossibility of change.

Now, as their Regent and his bride rode through their streets behind unicorns, their royals openly noted surprise and even shock, when not only did many of the citizens rush to the edges of the streets and cry their “Huzzahs” when the heroes returned home…

Since they’d left on the heels of the king being sentenced to prison for decades, those of the New Airen proudly, gratefully and ecstatically finally were able to display their colors.

From sky-blue to heather-purple to Nadirii coral, and some with all colors in one, pennants could be seen everywhere.

Hanging proudly from windows. Draped over doorways. Flying from poles on roofs.

And those who had the time, inclination and coin to do it, painted their doors in New Airen.

These being any color of the sky, from dawn to midnight.

Or Nadirii purple or coral.

This was not all.

Oh no, indeed.

For men wore New Airen ribbons on the lapels of their frock coats, or neckcloths the colors of New Airen, doing this proudly to share openly the bent of their beliefs.

And women made quick work of dying petticoats all manner of blue, purple and orange.

And those women with the means had blouses made of those colors.

Indeed, down at the docks of Twilight Harbor just two days before, when news arrived the Battle of the Veil was won by their Regent and his queen, the innkeepers and pub owners opened taps and the doxies heated vats in the streets.

The whores then stood delightedly in the cold in their skivvies as they tossed their skirts and underthings in the vats. The same vats where men and women’s hands and arms and chests and legs and faces were drunkenly dyed the colors of the skies it was told in ancient times their kings had commanded, and they were dyed thus in celebration.

It would be remiss not to note that the news their future princess had become a queen at her mother’s passing had been observed by the citizenry.

And this was the only thing that stopped the procession on its way to the Citadel.

It had to halt, for across the lane that led up to the castle, a three-foot high pile of flowers, coins, scraps of purple or coral silk, broken arrows and white oak leaves barred their path.

Prince Cassius and his queen had to round their horses and jump the tributes to make the lane of the Citadel.