Albert Winter Special – Almond Blossoms

"Watch out!"

Even with the sky completely clear and the sun's rays caressing your face, the cold winter envelops the streets of the village of Sorrol with a thin white layer accumulating in its corners.

Wrapped in your coat, you took a stroll around the surroundings until you reached the edge of the square, where the clattering of wheelbarrows and utensils, along with the voices of your neighbours, reached your ears and piqued your curiosity. There, you saw several workers creating an enclosure around the area, Albert among them, directing his co-workers and overseeing every detail.

Suddenly, a wooden pillar slipped from a high point, dangerously falling near Albert. It would have fallen on him if you hadn't hurried to extend your hands and stop the pillar in mid-air with a fluid gesture.

Using your magic, you gently place the pillar on the ground, and Albert, surprised, turns towards you with a grateful look.

"$name! Thank the gods you were around; I hadn't even realized it was loose," he exclaims with relief, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

"No problem," you respond as you finish approaching, eyeing the wheelbarrows behind him filled with materials. "What are you building here?"

Albert's eyes widen a bit, and he tilts his head slightly to the side, somewhat confused.

"Don't you know what day it is?"

You furrow your brow, trying to remember if you forgot an important date.

"Um... no?"

Albert laughs, revealing his breath condensing in the cold air, and proudly points to the area.

"Tomorrow is the Almond Blossom Festival, of course! We want to make this year something special."

Suddenly, a distant memory filters into your mind. The Almond Blossom Festival in Almeare. The traditional celebration announcing the end of winter with music, dance, food, and, of course, almond blossoms. The image of pink petals, cheerful music, and laughter fills your heart with nostalgia. Now you understand why there's so much hustle and bustle in the streets today. Locals are hurrying to set up their small shops, decorating the place with lights and colours as they set up their stalls around the square.

A festival you used to attend every year with your mother, and one you haven't celebrated in years.

That last thought sends a pang to your stomach, but you quickly shake off the feeling and focus on the redhead.

"Do you need help?"

"Of course! We need some extra hands to make sure everything is ready for tomorrow," he responds with another spark of enthusiasm, smiling. "Come, help me with this."

Together, you work on setting up food stalls, crafts, and entertainment around the square. As the minutes pass, the atmosphere fills with lively chatter as locals help prepare for the celebration. By sunset, all the main decorations are already set up, leaving a couple of loose ends to tie up, but they won't take much time to fix.

You finish tying the banner rope across the stage when you see Albert out of the corner of your eye, taking out his lute and placing it in the middle of the stage.

"A bit late to start singing, don't you think? Background music would have been nice earlier," you joke with a raised eyebrow.

The builder laughs.

"Don't worry, I won't torture you, at least not this evening. Tomorrow, I'll perform in the main act, like last year," he says with a wide smile.

It shouldn't surprise you; of all the people who could liven up a party with their music, Albert is the number one candidate in the village.

You place one of the last chairs on the stage and ask curiously,

"Do you do this every year?"

Albert nods enthusiastically.

"Of course, I would never turn down the offer. There was only one year that—" Suddenly, his face darkens, and the joy fades from his expression. "There was one year I didn't participate. It's been... two years. I wasn't in the mood, you know?"

His parents, you immediately think. He has already told you the story of the attack, at the temple just minutes from the village. You press your lips into a thin line and frown, although not for long, as Albert clears his throat and forces a smile again, but not as wide as before.

"It's okay," he says, shaking off the topic with a gesture. "No need to get sad now, it's a time for joy! No, no. Put that chair there, better."

The slight change in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by your ears. You follow his suggestion, but you can't help feeling the weight of the vulnerability of his words in the air, suspended momentarily before you decide to break the silence with a simple comment.

"They would be proud," you say softly as you place the chair according to his instructions.

Albert looks at you with a blink.

"Huh?"

You approach him with a sincere smile, placing your hand on his arm with a light squeeze.

"Your parents. They would be proud."

Albert blinks again, and his jaw drops slightly, opening his eyes in surprise. Then he smiles, his green eyes shining with emotion, and nods.

"I know, and tomorrow I'll play for them. And for you too, as a thank you."

---

The next morning, the sun shines again in a clear sky as the residents of Sorrol gather in the square to kick off the festival. Music fills the air, vibrant colours adorn the place, and the aroma of homemade food mixes with the hustle and bustle of the crowd.

Infected by the joy of the locals, you watch people enjoying the festivities. The doctor laughing and telling stories in the middle of a group, beer in hand, as usual. The tavern keeper with his pet sitting quietly on a bench in the shade of one of the almond trees. And Albert's sister, arms crossed and dressed in her armour even on this day, away from the crowd but near the stage.

The last place where your eyes land, and where they remain, is on the main stage where Albert is taking his seat and picking up his lute. He begins to play the instrument skilfully, filling the air with enchanting melodies, and although he is accompanied by other musicians, it's as if you only hear Albert.

At one point, he looks up and directly meets your gaze. The smile you already had on your face widens, and he returns it with gusto while continuing to play.

The first petal from the almond trees gently passes in front of your face, followed by a few more that transform the remaining snow under your feet into a blanket of almond blossoms. But even with the pink veil that forms for a split second over your eyes, it's not enough for you to look away from the redhead.

In the end, your senses ignore the crowd, and there's only you, Albert, his music, and the almond blossoms.