New beginning of fantasy story

The Lalaic host arrived in the great seaside Citadel of Hammon, set above a cliff, on a bright afternoon, preceded by trumpets and fanfare. Ladies tossed flower petals down upon the incoming army, sending a shower of white and pink from their balconies in the upper rooms of the many shops and dwellings that lined the winding cobbled street that climbed to the central keep’s courtyard. Crowds cheered at the sight of the armoured men that quickly formed ranks before the keep’s high walls. Hammon’s saviors had arrived at last. The threat that had loomed over Hammon for so long would at last be dispelled.

After the city’s lords gave great speeches and flattering words, they handed the keys of the keep to the captain of the Lalaic host and bade them defend Hammon well. The tavern lights burned well into the night with the merrymaking of the entire city. Many Lalaic soldiers made fools of themselves as they attempted to woo the giggling young ladies of Hammon with their confused smatterings of the Vulgar language; the girls turned the wheel on the soldiers when they demonstrated their mastery of the Lalaic tongue. Tall tales were told in both tongues, people danced in the streets, and the laughter and drinking of that night was not soon forgotten.

The next morning dawned cold, however, and its wind stirred the yellow and white banners that now fluttered above Hammon. A procession of Hammon’s former lords carried away the old heraldry that had hung from the towers and turrets of the cliffside city for centuries, and cast them into a great bonfire that had been set without the city walls, where a number of Lalaic soldiers, greatly tired from the night’s festivities, observed solemnly.

As one of the more aged lords, Alorn by name, came toward the fire, a young boy came forward from the city and tugged on his robes. Alorn turned to the boy, at first rather indignant at being so addressed, but then remembered that he was now little more than a wealthy man, common as any other—his lordship was ended. So he contented himself with an irritated harrumph.

“Yes, boy, what is it?” he asked.

“Sir, if I may, might I have the banner?” the boy asked.

“What do you want this old thing for?” cried Alorn, “We are no longer men of a cursed city, but members of the proud Empire of Lalaia!” Such were the words he had been repeating to himself all the night before whilst others took pleasure in this new state of affairs.

“Yes, sir, I know that, sir, but might I keep it to remember?”

“What’s there to remember, boy?” he asked, “Sleepless nights patrolling the walls with fewer and fewer men? Waking to find out who the creatures in the forest had carried away in the night? No, boy, there’s not a thing about the old way I’d like to remember.” Except, he thought to himself, his estate, his title, and the respect he had been given since he was a young man.

“If it’s all the same to you, sir,” the boy insisted.

“It’s all the same to me,” Alorn conceded, and gave the ratty brown banner to the boy, who carried it away to his home along the inside of the city walls.