The Extra's Rise

We were back in the planning room before breakfast. The night crew had turned Yara's wax sticks into real layouts. Screens showed seating blocks, entrance routes, fire lanes, and camera paths. The city map in the corner had turned into a web of green and blue lines—arrival corridors and return lanes—layered over Valdris like lace.

Stella was already in a chair with Luna when I came in, feet tucked under her, braid half undone from thinking. She had three slates in front of her. On one, the lists of names. On the second, a simple spreadsheet with time slots, aisle widths, and little notes like don't put Aunt Mara next to brass band. On the third, a sketch of the kids' corner that included beanbags, a dragon documentary playlist, and a box labeled quiet toys.

"You've been busy," I said.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, not apologizing. "If we read five cards, pause for one minute of music, then read five more, the honors will be forty-five minutes instead of ninety. Also we should put chairs with armrests in the first two rows so older people have something to push up from."

Luna tapped the slate. "She is correct about the chairs."

Stella turned the second slate toward me. "If arrivals are capped at one hundred people every ten minutes and we open three side gates instead of two, the outside line won't wrap around the block. But we need guides every twenty meters to keep people moving. If each guide can redirect about thirty people per minute, then four guides per gate is safe even if someone stops to take pictures."

"Good," Yara said, leaning over to see. "We'll put the guides where you marked them. And we'll tape arrows on the floor so even the stubborn ones have help."

Reika came in with two security chiefs in tow. She got right to it. "Two rings of access. Inner ring: Viserion family, allied heads, warders, engineers, honored soldiers, unit leads, medics, Redeemer elders, my people, Arthur's. Outer ring: foreign delegations, diplomats, nobles, academy reps, press pool two. Loud fields on balcony rails so no one leans until they learn manners."

"Ducts?" I asked.

"Drones already ran them twice," she said. "Vipers found three dead ends. We're sealing them. Undercroft routes are roped and staffed. I stole two cooks with loud voices to help move people. They were delighted."

Marcus arrived from the Iron Line with dust still on his boots. "No movement on the ridge," he reported. "Wardhouses are clean. Fence posts twenty-two, twenty-seven, and thirty-eight replaced. Your Redeemers left less residue than our old fumigators."

"Tell them that," I said. "They like being complimented for housekeeping."

"I will," he said, dead serious.

Lyralei swept in with Yara. "Announcements go out at noon," she said. "We'll confirm the date and time and tell the continent this is for them."

"We need a line about why," Ian said, flipping a coin he wasn't supposed to have indoors. "Not just that we're throwing a party."

"Light, not careless. Grateful, not giddy," Yara said. "We honor the people who stood. We remind the world that Calamity is a situation, not a crown. We show them what answer looks like."

Tiamat stood by the window again, eyes on the city, listening to all of it. Every time the room hesitated, a glance from her made it move again. When the press plan came up, she spoke.

"Two pools," she said. "One for arrivals, one on the floor, both with clear lanes marked. Short questions after honors. If shouting starts, play the exit music."

"Already in the run sheet," Yara said.

Stella raised her hand like a student. "What about people who can't come?"

Lyralei turned to her at once. "Tell me what you have in mind."

"A live feed with captions and a list of names scrolling at the bottom so families in other cities can see them," Stella said. "And a way to send a message back so they can clap from far away."

Yara tapped her slate. "We'll add a public wall in the west gallery that shows incoming messages. Moderated. We can also partner with local halls so people can gather and watch together."

Stella nodded, then frowned at her numbers again. "If we set the orchestra volume to half during the reading, the average applause per name drops from two seconds to one. That saves half an hour. But we should still let the room breathe after every tenth name. People need to feel things."

Luna looked proud enough to burst. "You see what matters," she told Stella.

We set the program. Lyralei would open with the why. Marcus would speak for the Line. I would speak for the answer. The warder choir would sing once at the start and once halfway through, after the moment of silence. Ian would read names with two choir elders to share the weight. Luna would give the final thanks for field medics and fence crews. Tiamat would not speak. She would stand, and that would be enough.

Food was simple and good. No sculpted towers. Bowls you could eat from standing without a disaster. Coffee and tea stations placed where people won't collide. Water everywhere.

Music was planned like a battle. Honors first under a thin underscore. Then a waltz for those who needed it. Then songs with a beat that didn't punish old knees. A quiet set after the moment of silence, not sad, just soft.

Press rules were clear. No microphones on the dance floor. No questions during honors. Six questions at the end, chosen by lot. If anyone tried to make a scene, the orchestra would begin a cheerful march and the floor managers would smile firm smiles.

By midday, the statement went live. Drones carried the palace crest across the city sky. The feeds lit up. Messages rolled in from the provinces and from the other continents. Congratulations. Relief. A few loud complaints we always get—wrong time, wrong place, why invite them, why invite us. Yara's team filtered and posted the ones that helped.

Reika and I reviewed exit plans, then reviewed them again, because exits are where people get hurt if a plan is lazy. She drew three extra arrows in the undercroft. I added two Redeemers to the north vestibule. She stared at me until I drank water again. I drank.

In a pause between lists, Reika came to stand beside me. The worry was quieter now, turned into resolve. "Next time," she said under the noise, "tell me sooner."

"I will," I said. She deserved more than that answer, but we were in a room full of work.

"And also," she added, voice dry again, "you're not allowed to fight anything bigger than a city without Rachel on call."

"She'll be here in time for the ball," I said. "Seraphina too. The others after."

"Good," she said. "I like when the world sees what our family looks like."

Luna handed Yara a final list. "The medics," she said, "and the fence crews. The Redeemers' elders as well."

"Lord Erebus has approved three," I added. "He will remind them to look friendly."

Stella leaned over the kids' corner sketch. "We need one more beanbag or two chairs," she said, thinking out loud. "Because if there are three friends and only two beanbags, someone will cry."

Yara smiled like she had just remembered why she likes this work. "We'll add two beanbags and three chairs."

By late afternoon, the machine was running. Valdris had begun to shine. Lanterns went up along the lower terraces. Banners unfurled from balconies. Lines of lights traced the main approaches like gentle rivers.

We stepped out to breathe on the high balcony. The city looked like a living thing—lights breathing, avenues pulsing. Luna leaned on the rail and watched with a look that only appears when a plan is moving and no one is dying. Reika stood a little apart, eyes on the dark, daring it to try something. Stella took my hand, fingers warm, grip steady.

"You're staying through the ball," she said.

"Yes," I said.

"And you'll dance with me," she said.

"Always."

"And with Luna and Reika and the others in the order Luna writes," she added, because she knows the order is the point, not the dance.

"Yes," I said.

"Good," she said. "And you'll smile when people say thank you even if you don't know what to do with your face."

"I'll think about pancakes," I said.

"Exactly," she said, satisfied.

Tiamat drifted to us, a shadow with warmth. "As expected," she said, eyes on the city. "Be ready to leave the dance early."

"Trouble doesn't RSVP," I said.

"Correct," she said, and was gone again.

Night fell and the palace shifted from plan to practice. Staff did a full walk-through. The choir tested acoustics. The orchestra tuned. Floor managers rehearsed hand signals. Yara stood at the center and rotated slowly, seeing angles no one else could see. Stella pointed at the far wall.

"Names on the outside too," she said. "Big."

"Yes," I said at once. "So people walking by can see them."

She nodded, satisfied by the promise inside the answer, then yawned so hard her eyes watered. Reika put a hand on her head and turned it into a gentle guide. Luna fell into step on her other side.

We paused at the last balcony. The city breathed. Three days. A hall to fill with the people who held the line. A world that needed to see them. After that, more borders. More snakes that thought they were stories.

Tonight we had lanterns and lists, a child's hand in mine, and the right people in the right room.

That counted.