The church bells of Fareday rang softly in the morning air, their sound drifting across the rooftops and market stalls still being assembled for the upcoming festival.
The doors of the church creaked open.
And out stumbled Gaius.
Not willingly.
A rope was looped securely around his torso, arms pinned to his sides like an unusually cooperative parcel. The other end of the rope was being held by Emilia, who looked entirely too pleased with herself.
Kirian walked beside them, nodding as if escorting a dangerous war criminal.
"You know," Kirian said solemnly, "if you had simply agreed voluntarily, this could have looked dignified."
Gaius stared forward with the exhausted expression of a man who had lost several arguments before breakfast.
"I was reading."
"Yes," Emilia said brightly, tugging the rope. "And now you're participating."
Behind them, Florina stood in the church doorway, hands clasped politely.
"I did tell him it would be good for him," she called out gently. "Fresh air. Social engagement."
Gaius looked back at her with betrayal in his eyes.
"You handed them the spare rope."
Florina smiled. "Community involvement is important."
The door shut.
Lili walked slightly ahead, umbrella resting over her shoulder despite the clear sky. She glanced back at Gaius and tilted her head.
"It's just part of life," she said calmly. "Sometimes you are dragged by rope. Sometimes you drag others. It balances."
"That is not how balance works," Gaius muttered.
They turned toward the town center, where preparations for the upcoming festival were already in motion. Vendors hammered wooden frames into place. Lanterns were being strung overhead. Children ran between adults carrying bundles of fabric twice their size.
The air smelled like fresh bread and sawdust.
Emilia stopped in the very center of it all and spread her arms dramatically.
"Behold!" she declared. "The birthplace of greatness!"
Kirian stepped forward, already in heroic stance. "The people of Fareday require assistance. And we—"
"—require money," Emilia corrected.
"—require gratitude," Kirian amended smoothly.
"—require snacks," Lili added under her breath.
Gaius sighed.
From under a nearby cart, Emilia dragged out what could only generously be described as construction materials.
Two uneven wooden crates.
Three pieces of cardboard of suspicious origin.
And a bundle of fabric that looked remarkably like someone's missing bedsheets.
Gaius stared at it.
"You stole those curtains."
"They were not stolen," Emilia said defensively. "They were… repurposed."
Kirian unfurled one of the sheets like it was a royal banner. It had tiny embroidered flowers along the edges.
"That," Gaius said flatly, "is from the guest room."
Lili squinted at the fabric.
"Oh. That explains why my teddy smelled like lavender yesterday."
Emilia ignored them and began assembling the structure with aggressive optimism. The cardboard was propped against the crates, tied together with rope that absolutely did not match in color or thickness.
Kirian climbed onto one crate to supervise.
"It needs a name!" he declared. "Something bold. Something unforgettable."
Emilia grabbed a charcoal stick and scribbled across the cardboard in dramatic, uneven letters:
LEGENDS BOOTH!!
She underlined it three times.
Kirian nodded approvingly. "Perfect. Subtle. Humble."
"It's crooked," Gaius said.
"It's dynamic," Emilia corrected.
They draped the bedsheet over the top like a canopy. It sagged slightly in the middle.
A breeze passed through.
The entire structure wobbled.
All four of them froze.
The cardboard leaned dangerously to the left.
Gaius slowly raised one foot and braced the crate with it.
"…You're welcome," he said.
Lili stepped back, umbrella twirling idly.
"I think it looks charming," she said. "Like it might collapse at any moment. Very dramatic."
Kirian stood in front of the booth, chest out.
"Citizens of Fareday!" he called. "Bring us your tasks! Your burdens! Your festival troubles!"
A woman carrying a basket paused.
"You're the ones who chased the butcher's runaway pig last month, right?"
Emilia straightened proudly. "We strategically redirected it."
"You fell into a trough," the woman replied.
Kirian coughed. "Legends often involve sacrifice."
Slowly, people began to approach.
A baker needed help lifting flour sacks before sunset.
A lantern maker needed someone to test stability on rooftops.
A group of children demanded assistance constructing the "tallest festival tower ever," which looked structurally doomed.
Emilia scribbled notes furiously.
Kirian nodded seriously at every request like he was accepting diplomatic treaties.
Lili stood slightly to the side, listening carefully.
"Are any of these payment options edible?" she asked casually.
The baker blinked. "I could offer sample pastries."
Lili's expression did not change.
"I will inspect them for safety," she said with dignity.
Gaius leaned against the booth, rope still loosely around his torso because no one had bothered to untie him.
He watched as the cardboard sign flapped in the wind.
LEGENDS BOOTH!!
He looked at the crooked underline. The sagging sheet roof. The enthusiastic chaos unfolding in front of it.
"This is ridiculous," he murmured.
Emilia glanced at him. "You say that now."
Kirian pointed dramatically toward the town square. "Every legend has a beginning!"
"Most don't begin with bedsheets," Gaius replied.
Lili tilted her umbrella slightly, watching townsfolk whisper to one another.
"They're already talking," she observed.
And they were.
"It's that group again."
"The church girl's involved."
"They're helping with the festival."
"They call themselves legends?"
The word spread faster than the rope knots holding the booth together.
Children began repeating it.
"Legends!"
"Go to the Legends Booth!"
The cardboard sign fluttered proudly, even as one corner slowly peeled away from the twine holding it in place.
Gaius watched the town respond—not mocking, not entirely convinced, but curious.
That was how it started.
Not with thunder.
Not with war.
Not with glowing green eyes in the sky.
But with cardboard.
Curtains.
And a badly underlined word.
And somehow, in the middle of all that mess, something real began to take shape.
The booth wobbled again.
Gaius steadied it automatically.
Emilia grinned at him.
"See? You're already part of it."
He didn't answer.
But he didn't walk away either.