The stench of blood flowed down the drains, staining the sewers red with half of the Turin massacre, making the whole city quiet, as quiet as a magnificent mausoleum.

The proud "people of Turin", who used to disdain the garrison and point fingers at the soldiers in shabby robes, are now meek like a flock of sheep who take what they want, and when those rudimentary weapons are pointed at them, even the president of the Chamber of Commerce, who has a lot of money, will humbly kneel down in front of a young soldier who was born of beggars, and use all his possessions to redeem his life.

The entire garrison was completely transformed into the private army of Berrion Marcherus, an army of nearly 60,000 men roaming the streets with impunity, completely turning into a swarm of locusts, carrying out the "will of Lord Berion and the kingdom"—putting himself in front of the kingdom, which is enough to prove how arrogant he has become.

First the commoners, then the famous and wealthy merchants, the rich and powerful of all kinds, and the lowly nobles who owned a great deal of property and estate, the various guilds—wizards, artisans, grain, silk, sea-going ...... The various walks were stripped of all their possessions under the "will of Berion", and one by one they were taken away, and no one can say what their fate was.

The revolt never ceased—from Dongcheng to Xicheng, flames burned every street, bloody bones piled higher and higher, but in exchange for only one massacre after another. Even some of the most appealing young nobles are no different from a rebellious rabbit in the face of a staggering number of legionnaires and the most elite knights in the entire kingdom.

Death was an incomparable feast, and the nobles of Turin all over the hills of Marcherus celebrated that the ancient kingdom of Turin had finally returned to what their fathers had spoken of so many times, and they were once again the sole masters of the kingdom. The truly proud people of Turin, the rest are nothing more than a bunch of untouchables, untouchables who provide them with everything they need!

The Minest family's mansion was in ruins, with all its precious collections, books, wealth, and possessions...... All of them were sacked by all the Turin nobles, and the exquisite fountain garden was burned to ashes by the soldiers, leaving nothing left.

"Use the most drastic means. Thoroughly cleanse the city of Turin, which is soaked in filth and filth, and make her as holy as it was!" Every soldier who rushed into the homes of the civilians, with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other, shouted the slogan: "For the holy Turin!"

And for the sake of holy Turin - robbery, arson, rape and plunder, bullying...... All were "necessary" means, and Berion was extremely generous to these soldiers of the capital garrison who were born in the ruffians and slums, and even allowed them to withhold half of the wealth they had "captured", up to each flag commander and down to the recruits who had just "enlisted". Each of them was rewarded by the Lord Keeper of the Seals, and "loyally" carried out Berion's "sacred and solemn" mission.

A grand dinner, an unbridled drinking party, an extravagant masquerade...... Every wealthy and powerful family on the hills of Marchelus enjoyed the wealth they had amassed after destroying most of the city of Turin. Although in their opinion, this is simply a precursor to the coming of prosperity.

Everyone was waiting for the moment when His Majesty Horace had taken his last breath and Berion would be crowned with the crown - all the power, the wealth of the whole kingdom, all the real power would be placed before them like a huge cake. Let them cut and take away.

It seemed to be a matter of course - at least in the eyes of the nobles of these families, it was they who helped Berion win the crown. Naturally, Berrion needs to give them a "deserved" reward after having the throne. Almost everyone was debating which family should belong to the future trade share of Seahorse Harbor, and if His Majesty Berion were to send a governor to the south, who would be more qualified to go, as if they already had the power of the entire kingdom.

As for the Knights of the Sacred Tree, they're just a bunch of hillbillies from the East, and sharing their scraps is a reward for them. They want the noble Turinese to give them power, unless the Radiant Cross comes.

It is a great honor to be able to make them serve the kingdom - and to expect to share power and wealth? Do they not know what sacrifice is, do they not know that everything in this world should be shared with the great and noble, the true nobles of Turin?

And it was the time when the nobles of the entire city of Turin were enjoying this prosperous summer. The little prince Anson Marcherus, who commanded the entire army of Turin, was already on his way to Turin.

Naturally, the news of the city of Turin had also reached his ears.

"The city of Turin is burning, crying, my chief lieutenant!" the little prince in the big tent of the barracks threw his sword directly on the table, and stared angrily at Green Turn, who was still there looking at the map: "And what are we doing, town by town, moving forward like a turtle crawling - I want to march into Turin City, not to attend the coronation of Berion!"

"But if you want your coronation, you'll have to enlist the support of the entire kingdom - we're taking all the towns along our way, one by one, and they'll stand behind you if Berion tries to rebel. Despite his distraught, Berion explained to the little prince as best he could: "And Edward is fighting for you the Minest family and the whole South, and if the royal fleet can swear allegiance to you, we can ......"

"Attempted rebellion - if you call everything he did in Turin an attempted rebellion, then what do you have to tell me to count as a rebellion?" Anson couldn't help but roar, "Is it to burn the whole of Turin to ashes?!"

"As long as he has not put on the crown and His Majesty Horace has not gone to the kingdom of the stars, it cannot be called a rebellion. The chief lieutenant said sincerely: "I know you are very emotional right now, but we can't let the whole situation ...... just because we are willful."

"I'm just going to ask you one thing right now - how long will it be before we get to Turin City?" Anson interrupted him rudely, "How long will it be before I can see that hateful face of Berion?!"

"It's about two weeks, and it's almost ten days - we're already halfway there, and you don't even have to go to the rest of the towns, they'll come and take refuge with you. Greene Turne sighed and said as if guessing: "After all, you are the heir of His Majesty Horace, and Berrion lost to His Majesty Horace decades ago, and the only people who really support him are the great nobles in Turin, and the remaining magnates in these small towns are the objects of exploitation." ”

"Then push the time to a week, go to Turin City in a week, that's my bottom line. Anson began, "In a week, I will see the royal palace on the hill of Marcherus!"

"A week-with all due respect, maybe the army behind you can do it, but what about the royal fleet, the Banner Legion?" Greene couldn't help but speak, "If Edward hadn't convinced the Minestrians, wouldn't we be ......"

"That would only mean that he has failed—either let him join us with his legions, or I can only see him as betraying me. There was a hint of determination in the little prince's gaze: "I hope it won't be like that—otherwise I will never show mercy to my subordinates, even if he is my attendant military attaché, and I am sure that he will never betray me." ”

What else could Green Turn, he nodded silently: "Then, in a week, we will arrive in Turin City." ”

"A week later, arrived in the city of Turin. The little prince also nodded: "Then, a decisive battle with Berion!" (To be continued.) )