The city of Turin is at its most prosperous and peaceful in the middle of summer - the warm sea breeze, the golden sun, the turquoise sky, the bells of the Glorious Cross...... It seems that even the gods are protecting the capital of this kingdom in the east of the world's sea.

In this warm season, the nobles and wealthy of Xicheng District can enjoy the elegant gardens and cool fountains, watch the stars in the sky in a comfortable night, or spend the long midnight after night with an all-night banquet and ball, changing into their most beautiful satin dresses and pendants, and not worrying that the cold ice and snow will make them shiver.

Wine from estates outside Turin, fruit of all kinds, reindeer and hares from the forests decorate the tables of the rich - and merchant ships arriving at the ports of Turin at this time of year, and the Port del Royal, which is no exception, is laden with all sorts of exotic luxuries from the west coast.

While the aristocracy of Xicheng District enjoyed their elegant and leisurely life, Dongcheng District was also immersed in the busiest time of the year, when the busy docks and trade routes gave many poor people a place to work, and the heat of midsummer, although no less unbearable, was much stronger than the winter that could freeze people to death.

The whole Dongcheng district is also bustling, full of busy people, as if they don't even have time to stay, the tavern is filled with the smell of butterbeer, and the bread served in the almshouse every day is cold and hard, but at least satisfying.

The city of Turin, home to 400,000 people, is a microcosm of the kingdom - and for every king of the kingdom of Turin, it is a daunting task to survive every prosperous summer and a thwarty winter.

But under the clear skies of midsummer, the hills of Marcelus have lost their former laughter. It became a little solemn - even the two people who met each other often only said hello. They all looked worried. No one is in the mood to talk and laugh anymore.

The gates of the palace, which were once open, have also been closed, and guards and royal knights can be seen patrolling everywhere. In the Glorious Cross Church, facing each other, the sound of prayer never stopped from morning to night.

Because Horace Marcherus finally couldn't hold on.

Although this is almost expected for many people, and even many people think that it is a living miracle that His Majesty the frail King can live to this day, but when he really falls, people really feel what it means to panic, and there is no master of the six gods!

Under the rule of His Majesty Horace, the entire Kingdom of Turin truly experienced peace and prosperity like never before - the longest-reigning king of Turin to date. He was also the only king of Turin who had been careful to maintain peace and stability since his succession to the throne.

At the time of his accession to the throne, many were babbling children, watching on the shoulders of their fathers as the young successor of Marchelus struggled up the stairs to the position that belonged to him but was questioned, and when they heard the news that His Majesty Horace was critically ill, they suddenly found that their children were almost having children.

If for those commoners and minor nobles, Horace's fall only made them feel a little sad, then what Marquis Holard Minest felt was an invisible smoke condensing in the sky above the city of Turin, which could turn the entire city of Turin into a sea of corpses and blood at any time!

Looking at the smug smiles on the faces of those Turin nobles, as if they had won the battle. Horard felt only deep irony, and walked into the throne hall alone. Under the empty dome, only a few people sat at the very central round table. And the most central is naturally the flag minister, Horace's younger brother Berion Marcherus.

After the illness of His Majesty Horace, the Council of the Queens was convened by Berrion - one of the powers of the Flag Minister. And the Turin nobles who relied on Berion celebrated one by one, seeing this as a sign that he was about to inherit the throne, as if Berrion was already the heir to the throne.

"Marquis de Minest, you are late for today. With a slight smile, Berrion stood up first, and slightly bowed his hand to the position in front of him: "Please sit down, the meeting is about to begin." ”

"It looks like I'm not the last one to arrive. The old man smiled and nodded, and pointed to the position next to him with some confusion: "What about Grand Master Mercer Kane?"

"Don't you know?" asked Berrion with a smile, "ever since Brother Wang, His Majesty Horace, was critically ill, Grand Master Merthecain has always been armed and has not left the door once from morning till night. ”

"It must be said that the Grand Master is indeed a well-deserved knight, and his loyalty to His Majesty is also admirable. Berion, who sat down slowly, changed his words: "But we must not let this delay the normal progress of the meeting—we still have a city of 400,000 people and a huge kingdom to manage." ”

The old man sat down and said no more, and the atmosphere eased slightly, and Berion smiled and waved behind him, allowing the attendants to close the door to the throne hall.

If there are a few words to characterize the Imperial Council, boring and mechanical are definitely one of them. Thanks to Horace's rule over the years, most of the things in the kingdom were regulated, and there was no need to ask too much about it, just to do its job—a rare and rare thing, of course.

But for the ministers of the Imperial Council, their only task is to make decisions. But in the past, since Berion had become the Lord of the Flag, and His Majesty Horace had become critically ill, their task was only two things, either to raise their hands or not to raise them—and there would be no difference between the two anyway.

The only person Berion had to deal with was the Marquis of Minest—as Minister of the Interior, Holard was the only one who had the power to refute his orders, and as the only Marquis in the kingdom, the lord of Seahorse Harbor, the old man was equally qualified, even if he rarely did.

"Triumphant?" Holard silently picked up a scroll: "Turin City is going to be held recently, is there going to be a triumphal ceremony?"

"Any questions?"

"There's no problem, it's just ......" The old man looked at the people around him who were silently bowing their heads, and slowly looked at Berion in front of him: "Now that the war in Handi is not over yet, we don't seem to be sure if His Highness Anson can really defeat those barbarian war tribes, isn't it too anxious to start preparations now?"

"But this triumphal ceremony was not for Anson - of course, I believe he will do a better job than I do, and completely defeat the barbarians of the three hundred thousand war tribes. Barrion smiled, "This triumphal ceremony is for Sir Gaio Valens, the chief knight of the Knights of the Sacred Tree, who has won a great victory in the Eastern Blood Cliff!"

"You may not know yet, but the news should come soon—Sir Valens led an army of two thousand knights to annihilate an army of infidels preparing to invade, and 30,000 scum of the blasphemous Cross were exposed to the wilderness, and it is said that the heads were cut off by Sir Varence, and piled up half a city wall!"

“...... It's a victory to celebrate. Holard nodded calmly, "Does Lord Mercer Kane know about this?"

"I shouldn't know, he has been on duty outside His Majesty's door all along. Berion shook his head and looked at the old man with a smile: "But whether we know it or not, we shouldn't treat the heroes badly, right—otherwise, how can we prove the justice of the kingdom?"

There was silence in the throne hall, and everyone silently turned their gaze to Horad Minest, who was sitting across from Berrion.

The old man stamped his seal on it as if nothing had happened.

"You are right, Lord Keeper of the Seals. (To be continued.) )