Chapter 645 — The Heart of the Crowd

But Gaoyang himself knew he was far from achieving that. Though after more than two years of effort the Military Intelligence Bureau had indeed established many stations and agents within Saint Frostrest, his "surveillance" of the royal capital remained quite limited—it was simply that those nobles attempting to defect had been truly unlucky, or else had fixed their attention only on Silverhold and ignored the common folk to be seen everywhere along the roads and the watching eyes behind the windows of street corners and alleys, and so many of them had given themselves away.

On the other hand, the materials in his hands were also half true and half false—but at a time like this, who cared?

"In a time of national crisis, to attempt defection, to make off with military supplies, to sabotage the city's defences, and even to murder the soldiers defending the walls—this is grave treason," Gaoyang set down the papers and said in a placid tone. "What happened on Crow Terrace was merely the enforcement of the law."

This was the Gaoyang style—he was the one who had ordered the bombardment of Crow Terrace, and he had no qualms about admitting it; he had meant to root out those nobles, and he had no qualms about admitting that either. Just as with what he had done in the southern lands, in matters concerning the traditional nobility he neither manoeuvred nor dissembled.

After all, what existed between the order he sought to impose and the old noble order was not a "deviation" but outright confrontation; since they were doomed to be incompatible from the very start, it was better to be direct about it.

After all, he had no need to "leave himself a way out" among the old nobility; rather, he had to be careful that if he played along with this deception today, then one day in the future that hypocrisy would become a stain in the eyes of the people.

"I have finished," he said calmly. "Who wishes to speak?"

The chapel square was silent, but this silence was not caused by tension and fear alone; a kind of conflict and entanglement of mind troubled every person there. Apart from the soldiers and low-ranking knights, whose positions might be simpler, every noble present who held even a minor title understood how difficult this question was:

Traitors were utterly despicable—of that there was no doubt. Those standing here now were for the most part true defenders of the royal capital, men of the war faction who held the defectors in contempt, and after seeing that evidence they naturally felt a degree of approval for what had happened on Crow Terrace.

But Gao Yang? Cecil's methods unsettled them as well—that single volley of cannon fire had left everyone deeply wary.

The king had indeed purged the kingdom's "vermin," yet it could not be denied that the king had also used such methods to eliminate those who opposed him. Whether or not Duke Cecil knew the truth of what lay on Crow Terrace, the king's letter was genuine, and so were his motives...

That immense sense of contradiction, that near-absurd sense of rupture, left everyone at a loss for words for a time; it seemed no one ought to be supported, and yet they had to support someone...

This unbearable silence lasted a full several minutes before it was suddenly broken.

The crowd gathered before the small chapel suddenly parted to either side, and Duke Baiyu? Franklin stepped forward, draped in a ducal mantle, his bearing refined and elegant.

In his hands the duke held something that seemed baffling to onlookers—a metal plate forged of mithril.

At the sight of that metal plate, not a trace of surprise showed on Gao Yang's face; he merely tilted his head slightly to glance at Victoria beside him, and in that Northern Duchess's complicated gaze he caught a flicker of solemnity, which in the next instant turned to relief.

Bearing the mithril plate, Baiyu? Franklin came before Gao Yang and Wilse; after exchanging a deep, knowing look with Wilse, he turned to face the crowd in the square:

"Be that as it may, it is beyond doubt that the king used Duke Cecil's hand to eliminate those who opposed him; within his motives lay immense self-interest and a terrifying abuse of power. This indisputable fact proves one thing: Wilse? Morne is no longer fit to remain our king. He should step down and yield the throne to worthier hands.

"Duke Cecil's bombardment of Crow Terrace was a thunderous measure to root out traitors. He stands far from the seat of power in the royal capital and harbors no motive to purge those of differing views. This decision may seem excessively cold, but it was a normal judgment made in a state of dire national emergency—such is my judgment."

Behind Gao Yang, Amber, her figure hidden from everyone's sight, muttered softly, "How absurd..."

Gao Yun responded under his breath, "Exactly. Utterly absurd."

There was far too much in Baiyu's words open to dispute; it was as though he had deliberately magnified one side's fault while intentionally ignoring the terrifying act of the other. The one who had actually fired the cannons was Gao Yang, and yet in the end everyone was to turn a blind eye to that.

But the most absurd thing of all was that after Baiyu's words fell, not a single person in the square spoke up to refute them.

The people fell briefly silent, then exchanged glances; by some unspoken understanding, they nodded one after another.

Baiyu turned back and looked into Wilse's eyes: "Your Majesty, do you have any objection to this conclusion?"

Wilse wore a relaxed smile—at last, matters had returned to the course he had planned.

"I have no objection."

"Then please relinquish the throne, Your Majesty."

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