There was no need to exclude any detectives or accept any defectors; the besieged were fully aware of their predicament.
They knew that the order for the general offensive had been issued, and they were well aware that the heavy responsibility and enormous danger were as dense as the dark clouds before a storm, looming over the entire city.
Having lost their emperor, Backlund's last remaining loyal subjects, faced with a greater transformation as proclaimed by the gods, overcame the barriers created by past interests and united together.
This unprecedented scene of unity, which only emerges at the most critical and unforgiving moments, is something no one cares about at that time.
Just as the Durnesa Palace, the highest level of the Imperial Diet, symbolizing the honor and nobility behind the title "Night Emperor," was abandoned by Augustus, who transformed from a servant into a lord, and no longer possessed a future of grandeur, the so-called loyal and chaste loyalists were also abandoned by the eyes of the masses, slinking off the center stage of the world, like Solomon, Tudor, and other noble or slightly inferior losers, and could no longer even earn a second glance from the gods and the victors.
But so what?
Those who insist they remain servants of Trensault are fundamentally different from the winners who are busy whitewashing the truth.
All their efforts were futile and meaningless, but they were meant to soothe their numb and lifeless hearts, not to entertain anyone else.
Inside the Durnesa Palace, the Speaker of the Imperial Council exercised his final power, ordering a thrilling ceremony to be held.
He hoped that when the new king entered Backlund, the residents of the City of Order would hear not grand pronouncements, but sacred justice and the maxims left by the emperor.
Therefore, according to the order of the council president, who was about to add a prefix to his title and whose life might end along with his position, all the people in the palace, whether human or vampire who had not yet evacuated, whether official or ordinary citizen, young or old, all gathered together and sang the legal statutes engraved on the palace walls as beautifully as the patterns and paintings.
The shouts, cheers, and countless other sounds of indescribable negative venting finally came to an end with the orderly symphony of horses' hooves.
The orderly procession came from the west bank of the Tasok River, traveling from west to east, heading towards the Old Palace of Trensurster, a ruin where only the foundation and outer walls remain.
At the end of the war, Emperor Solomon fell, and the Mad Emperor Tudor died suddenly. Contrary to popular belief, the Night Emperor, who was also a loser in the war, did not perish on the battlefield immediately.
He returned, just like the "Emperor of the Underworld" who had seized Tudor's legacy, and returned to his capital.
However, compared to the absolute victor, Trensault was battered and bruised, on the verge of mental collapse, and abandoned his distinctive and agile style.
Perhaps it was because of the body of Queen Olya in His arms?
Or perhaps it was because of that mysterious lamp that had become entangled with the emperor's soul?
No one knows the specific reason, nor does anyone know what the "Night Emperor" or the "Judge" are thinking.
In short, after the emperor returned to Backlund, he banished his children and some of his close advisors, and uprooted the entire palace and threw it far away...
Then He sat quietly on the ground, where many parts of the building had been destroyed and a deep pit lay, beside the body of His wife, and watched an ordinary sunrise and sunset over Backlund.
The disaster caused by the fall of the "Judges" was surprisingly not too widespread, at least as evidenced by the fact that when the Augustus and their foes swallowed Backlund, attempting to transform this relatively undamaged city and erase the traces of Trenshorst, they produced a two-page list of demolitions.
No one knows where Queen Olnia's body is buried, but the Fussacks must know very well where Trensost's body is.
After all, the last time the "Night Emperor" appeared before his death was in Saint Milon, and it only took a few seconds from his appearance to becoming a corpse.
Why did He do that?
Nobody knows the answer, and nobody wants to find out.
Just as the Augustus were now beaming with joy, William Augustus, the "Hand of Order," declared himself the "Founder of the Nation" for the first time in the "Platform of Justice" built by the "Night Emperor."
As a voice from inside the Durnesa Palace proclaimed, "Emperor, please bring judgment upon the traitors," this untimely chant momentarily drowned out William Augustus's jubilation. The grand procession swept through the streets and alleys, bursting through the heavy gates of the Parliament, and descended straight down from the easternmost point of Backlund.
They held aloft the Imperial Code, defiantly revealing their mortal chests to the archangels.
William Augustus looked at the head of the procession, at the last angel in the land who refused to submit to Him, and raised his left hand.
Wind is invisible, just like the intangible concepts of justice, principles, morality, and order that exist only in the minds of intelligent beings.
The night and the storm were watching over this place... William Augustus knew that any developments that followed would become a significant chapter in the kingdom's history.
The will of the gods gently pushed His wrist, and the high and mighty void entity was swept by the wind, falling from the high temple and landing in His palm.
The "Hand of Order" grasped the divinely bestowed new justice, its gaze lingering condescendingly from its eyes, which were angled by the tilt of its face, before descending heavily with the sword in hand.
The Speaker of Parliament's asymmetrical formal attire was covered in dust, and the procession members fell backward one after another. The "Code of Trentustra," which was held high by the last of the ministers, lost its support and flipped open in the air, its two halves facing the midday sun, as if stretching out their arms to embrace the "Piazza de Justice," which it visited every year.
The codex tumbled a few times in the air, then landed headfirst with a muffled "thump" on the ground.
The sound of a book hitting the ground was small, yet it was loud enough to resound throughout Backlund and travel far away.
The entire nation was shocked by the discovery of this book. The devastating news echoed across the Interseas, in the depths of winter, in Akhova, in East Chester, in South Wales… The hysterical screams of the fragmented empire crashed down like thunder upon the surrounding nations.
Those countries that had not yet welcomed a new ruler then realized that, due to their indifference and slow response, an inescapable destructive force had ultimately destroyed everything the three emperors had built.
It will bind and restrain the world for a thousand years, perhaps longer, as the three emperors did.
A new era is about to begin.
The people of the entire Northland became aware of this reality, and the flag of Loen rose high in the impoverished west of Backlund, changing the long-standing pattern.
Against a blue background, a lion bares its teeth and glares defiantly into the distance, while on the sea it gazes upon, a cross formed by a longsword and a scale has not yet fully breathed its last.
A boy with brass-colored hair, a thin and weak body huddled under his dress, tightly hugged his only blood relative in the world, leaned against the mast, listened to the roar of the flag above, covered his sister's eyes, and cautiously looked up at himself.
"Lord Urolius, we will go back, won't we?"
The holy angel bowed her head and lowered her eyes; her beautiful face was like a cold sculpture.
He thought about it carefully, his silver pupils reflecting the lonely soul, and gave an affirmative answer.
Yes, it will.
"The Lord said, 'Yes.'"
P.S.: Inspired by the fall of Byzantium