The golden rays of the morning sun filtered through the open canopy of the square, casting a warm glow over the bustling scene. The air was alive with the murmurs of eager voices, the rustle of freshly pressed chitons, and the faint notes of lyres and flutes. It was the second day of Amendolara's grand matchmaking event, and the entire city seemed to vibrate with anticipation.
The men—mostly new citizens, former mercenaries—had gone to great lengths to groom themselves, their Doric-style chitons clean and sharp. They carried themselves with an air of confidence, eager to find a partner who might offer not just companionship but also a place in this reborn city-state.
