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“Your Majesty.”
The Sun Hall had been left in disarray after all that chaos, and now people were bustling with efforts to repair the damage.
The workers, carrying bricks and other sorts of materials, wore tense expressions, not because of the labor, but because of the young boy sitting amidst the dusty ruins.
“The dust here is heavy, Your Majesty. I worry for your health. Please, return to safety,” said Chancellor Bryn Ennik , wiping the dust from his hands as he spoke.
In any other situation, work would be halted with the emperor present, but Olivurn had decided to remain on his throne here, as if to punish himself.
“The chancellor is right. Your Majesty is the empire itself. The war has only just begun, and should Your Majesty fall ill, the army’s morale will surely plummet,” Tiren, who stood beside the emperor, carefully echoed the chancellor’s concern.
“The empire itself… But Tiren, this hall, the very symbol of the empire, was destroyed by one man. How could I leave in a situation like this?”
“But, Your Majesty…”
“Don’t you agree?”
Olivurn’s cold gaze shifted, though not at Bryn Ennik. The chancellor turned his head away, understanding that the question wasn’t meant for him.
“You’ve come a long way. I appreciate the effort.”
All eyes in the hall turned toward the new arrival.
“Sir Kuwell.”
A frigid chill filled the Sun Hall.
“At your service, Your Majesty. I have answered your call as a knight of the empire.”
Kuwell’s heavy armor clanged loudly as he approached. Behind him were his eldest son, Martte, and his third son, Elliot. The latter seemed eager to join the frontlines right...
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