The Place des Monarchs was overcrowded and chaotic, but Pele Cilleri of Cisse also saw the movement of people. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

"Your Excellency, the Royal Guard seems to be doing something terrible -- it seems that your sister is not satisfied that she only has big breasts and big ass* eyes. ”

Bailey whispered a word to Elio, his stubbled mouth and a very impolite smile.

Elio looked back at Lelia and saw that the Queen Mother was paralyzed in her leather chair, so drunk that she didn't even respond to Lepon's tugging of her corset, and let out a very low whimper in her throat - it didn't look like she was pretending to be a commander.

"She's drunk. The Prime Minister looked back.

"Who can guess a woman's mind. Bailey sneered, "Maybe she'll poison your glass, just like she did to her husband - after all, you want to kill her son too." ”

Elio's face turned cold, and his green eyes became as sharp as knives. He called the royal guards and asked in a deep voice, "What did the Queen Mother order you to do?"

The guard knelt down on one knee and replied, "We have all our duties, and tonight the team of 'Silver Firs' Bull guards the viewing platform, and we don't know where they are going. ”

The imperial prime minister's face was even more gloomy: "Check it out for me, otherwise your soft armor will have to be peeled off and your head will be hung on the white wall of the Golden Palace." ”

The guard raised his fist to his chest, saluted, and quickly left with his men.

At this time, the bells of the Golden Clock Tower struck nine times, and the Midsummer Night feast was halfway through, and the climax of the whole feast was about to be ushered in.

On the top of the "Palace of Bliss", the white-robed warlock swirled and danced briskly, leaping briskly from corner to corner, and every time he landed, a cluster of brilliant flames flew into the sky.

"I am the eye of the true god and give sunshine to all things!" he chanted in the ancient imperial Chinese language, and the pillars of fire converged like a tidal wave to the center of the palace.

The sleeves of the sorcerer's robe danced, and the heat raised the brocade and swelled against the hot wind. With the swing of the white robe, these flames intertwined into a web and transformed into a huge sphere, like the sun falling on the top of the "palace of bliss".

Then, the huge fireball exploded violently, and countless fireworks split and jumped, staining the wooden structure. The elves swirled and expanded, and the golden dome soon turned into a lake of flames intertwined with red and black, and began to collapse rapidly.

First, a piece of yellow mahogany bent column broke and fell to the ground, and then the finely carved beams fell one after another. The great men of the empire were hidden in the orange-red light, and the saints turned into black smoke and rose into the sky.

From a distance, the entire "Palace of Bliss" looks like a rain of fire that slowly melts away in this rain.

The heat wave, with the howling of the wind and the crisp cracking of burning wooden blocks, once again ignited the atmosphere of the Monarch's Square.

Everyone watched as the white-robed warlock leaped swiftly over the "Palace of Bliss" where it had not yet been ignited, sometimes disappearing into the tongue of flames, sometimes standing on a slowly burning lone pillar, crumbling, and the people exclaimed for him.

King Repon watched Rigoletto's performance, grinning as he clung to the drunken Empress Dowager's pale breasts, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth, and the hot wind made him sweat profusely.

"Fire, fire, fire!" When excited, the king could only call monophonic.

At this time, the fire had climbed from the top of the "Palace of Bliss" to the supporting pillars, and the two-meter-thick yellow mahogany pillars gradually became charred black, and the orange-red light penetrated from the deepest part of the palace to the periphery. The hot air brings oxygen, causing the orange-red shape that surrounds the building to leap and slowly move in the night sky.

Odin stood in the center of the flames, following the load-bearing pillar and slowly falling. He was not afraid of fire, and formed an encirclement without wind and light around him.

He watched as objects around him fell like lava erupted from a volcano, saw the delicate spiral staircase descend from the top into a flaming wreckage, saw huge pieces of wood topple and topple, and saw the gilded collages melt into colorful swirls......

Then he finally landed on the ground, his head full of small beams of fire jumping down, the crackling sound of the inadequately burned wood, and a burning beam just in front of him, either a blinding orange-red or a swaying black smoke.

He walked briskly out of the brilliant burning structure, and took one last look back at the sight he had created.

Now the whole palace was on fire, and the fires were like giant crowned trees that covered the sky, but now the orange-red crown tree took root, and the branches fell from the top, digging into the earth, and then bursting out of new trunks, densely intertwined, and growing rapidly in the center of the Monarch's Square, towering into the sky.

People were jubilant with excitement, and they called the mixture of fear and excitement "excitement" - and it was clear that they were now in the midst of such an incomparably seductive emotion, their hearts racing, their breathing quickening, and their sweating profusely.

They were immersed in this strange creation constructed by the upper classes, and did not feel that the fire could burn or burn them. They had no reason to think that the huge monster that was glowing red would not break through the fence and devour itself. The burning "Palace of Bliss" seemed to really lead them into a prosperous paradise.

Just as they never felt that Turing Stanley was assassinated and the little king was crowned the next day, these fast wheels of history would endanger themselves.

"Glorify my king", "empire prosper"!

Shocked by the magnificent sight in front of them like the sunset falling into the sea, people couldn't help but cheer loudly.

"Humans are such a strange race. Odin bowed his head slightly and smiled: "If I were to start a science, I would name it 'Human Group Psychology', or 'Human Population Sociology'." ”

By this time, he had already shed his white robe and left the burning "Palace of Bliss" hundreds of miles away. Most of the people were stimulated by the magnificence, and had forgotten the rister who lit the fire, and certainly did not fear for his safety.

Some of the guards were trying to keep the excited freedmen and nobles from breaking through the cordon, while others were busy stopping the brawls, throwing barrels, throwing burning sticks, and other acts of violence, and the guards of the 'Rigoletto' would bring back the unburned pyromancers, ignoring a silent traveler in sackcloth robes and a hood.

Under the arched aisle of the huge triumphal arch of Monarch Square, a vendor selling absinthe shouted: "The best 'green elf' in Cherry Town, ten copper coins a cup!"

The robed warlock gave him ten dark yellow coins, and the merchant scooped a cloudy green drink from the barrel and handed it to him, whispering, "The lord asked—if he really wanted to inform the Inquisition, that he had never dealt with the Faceless Inquisitor, and that money didn't seem to impress them." ”

The warlock took a sip of wine, only tasting the strange taste of spices and the spicy taste of alcohol, but he did not feel the rumored hallucinogenic effect, and he smiled slightly: "Don't worry, money can't be moved, but blood can—let your people bring the Queen Mother's paper scroll, and tell the Inquisitor that someone wants to desecrate the icon and commit a rebellion on Midsummer Day, and needs to be executed in public, and they will be more than happy to help." ”

"That lord is worried about the pressure from the Templars......" the merchant's face became solemn.

The warlock found the smell of wine unacceptable, so he poured the 'Green Elf' in front of the merchant and threw the wooden cup back: "The Inquisition and the Templar are two groups of people, and if you really put pressure on you, it will be a good thing for us, so why should that lord worry?"

He pointed to the shiny wine stains on the ground and said, "See—you just push on the rim of the precarious cup and the blood will spill out." I never go wrong with my promise. ”

Then the warlock stepped over the spicy-smelling puddle of wine and disappeared into the night.

The merchant whispered to his servant, and the inconspicuous servant mounted his horse and galloped away from the Arc de Triomphe, galloping in the direction of the Central Inquisition.