The abbot opens the heavy door to leave the secret archives, and is bombarded by sound. A cacophony of bells, of songs, of cheers. The festival is well underway. He has, as every year, taken his pilgrimage into the retreat of secret archives, to study and to worship, but now the show is on. Everywhere, people are celebrating, rejoicing in the utopia that their land had never before known, and which would hopefully never escape.

Climbing to the balcony, the abbot can hear joy and laughter fill the air. He surveys the crowds flooding the square, and sees smiles on faces. Fear has no place here. The singing and chanting is contagious, and he remembers how it was that he came to be here, how his life of devotion was spurred by the same gratefulness that this crowd demonstrates. He smiles to himself, a small and simple thing, and allows himself to become lost in the moment.

In the church below, the pews are full, and the masses throng to make their way in to pay their respects. Worshippers venerate the prominent marble statue of their king, their savior. All have come to pay their respects on this most holy of days. Even the local leaders can be seen kneeling, receiving their blessing from the priests for another year. And what could there be except another wonderful year, full of more blessings to come? It was as certain as a rainbow following rain.

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Only once he turns away fully from the crowd and makes his way down the stairs does the abbot's face darken. Part of him is disgusted by the revelry, by the masses with their ridiculous celebration. For the people were weak. They were coddled, they were powerless. They suckle for nourishment, tied to the very structure that supports them for their every need, and none would dare to question.

Why would they? Life was fantastic. They must believe that there is no better possible world. For what could be better than one's needs met, one's struggles ended, and one's future secured? No, to them this was life perfected, and it is all thanks to the man they are here to venerate.

Although he is disturbed by the people he serves, the abbot understands. People are simple, after all. Even though what he has learned in his long tenure as an abbot might break others, or shake their faith, to him it has always been a refuge - the truest thing in the world. People are simple, and power is what matters. He takes the barest moment to regain his composure, and returns to the festivities. After all, today is a very important day.