Austin's figure vanished beyond the palace gates—along with it, he carried the Emperor's unshakable will out into the streets of Eryndor City.
What had transpired in the throne hall spread as if borne upon a wind-spell: secret words racing over avenues and alleys, slipping into the ears of all who had waited with bated breath. That single line—"The Empire has grown weary of the Ordon Theocracy."—was exactly the reply the lurking wolves had longed for.
This was it.
The moment had finally arrived.
In an instant, the entire city seemed to tumble into a boiling crucible. The agitation would not stop at the walls; like wildfire, it would sweep to the farthest frontiers of the Empire.
Aurek's will, like an invisible eagle, flew straight into the halls of the powerful.
"Let the banquet… begin."
