Chapter 646 — The End of the King's Banner

The tracks of the mighty and awe-inspiring war-chariots ground over the ancient flagstones of Saint Sunir; the fully armed magic-energy combat soldiers marched in formation with neat steps; White Knights bearing warhammers on their shoulders walked at the head of the column, holy light drifting, banners fluttering.

The citizens who had just survived a crisis of life and death came out to both sides of the streets; they thronged around the entering column, bowing in salute with curiosity and awe. Some, frightened by those tanks that gave off strange sounds, prostrated themselves pale-faced on the ground; and more—sallow, gaunt commoners and serfs—knelt by the roadside, as if ready at any moment to kiss the boots of the magic-energy combat soldiers and the prints their feet had left.

They were numb yet fervent, joyful yet afraid.

Amber and Gaosen stood together in the war chariot, half-leaning out over the side (Amber was standing on a stool).

Looking at the scene on both sides of the road, at the people prostrate on the ground, the half-elf lady could not help but frown: "You're going to make all these people stand up in the future, aren't you?"

"Of course, just like I did in the Southern Region."

"I know, I'm just confirming it again..." Amber said softly. "I just feel a little uneasy... you've actually taken this step... although the Administrative Council did draw up contingency plans and every department made preparations, I'm afraid no one expected it to happen so soon."

Gaoyang glanced at the slightly dazed half-elf and could not help but smile: "I told you, I would fight all the way to the royal capital."

At the rear of the column, Wilse Morne turned his head and looked back at the towering walls of Saint Sunir.

Upon those walls—soaked in countless blood, weathered countless assaults, defended to the death by knights and soldiers with their lives—a blue banner with golden trim, the flag of the Ansu kings, was slowly being lowered.

The one performing the lowering was Cohen Loren, commander of the Royal Knights—this was the dignity Duke Cecil had left to the Morne royal house.

Beside Wilse, the stout, gray-haired and gray-bearded Count Cromwell Whitehill was likewise gazing back at the descending royal banner, watching it take on a hazy glow in the light of the setting sun, watching it vanish entirely from the walls; at last the Count could not hold back a choking sob: "Your Majesty, the royal banner has come down, I—"

"I am no longer king," Wilse corrected him. "A new banner will be raised. Count Whitehill, lift up your chest—you and your family swore loyalty to this country, and this country has not fallen."

Cromwell Whitehill, of dwarven blood and most unusual among the nobles of Ansu, drew a soft breath: "To you, my respects."

The royal banner of Ansu came down, and the banner of Cecil began to flutter upon the walls of Saint Sunir; though the framework of the new state had yet to be built and the handover of power and countless other affairs had yet to truly begin, the mere change of banners was enough to convey a great deal.

Atop the highest spire of Silverhold, a figure in a pale violet gauze gown, face veiled in translucent silk, stood quietly looking down upon this "ancient" human royal city, watching the banners change in the distance.

After a moment, Meiheng Pernia pressed a finger to her ear, and a pale gold communication interface flickered to life before her eyes.

"The royal authority of Ansu has changed hands; Gaoyang Cecil will become the new master of this country, but it seems he has not chosen to inherit the title of King of Ansu—instead he wants, more radically, to found a new nation."

The lines on the communication interface quivered, and a crackling voice, slightly distorted, came through: "...A change of royal authority was within expectations... only that he would choose to end Ansu's monarchy rather than inherit the throne is surprising, though understandable. This human kingdom has been completely reshuffled; painting on a blank sheet is always easier than endlessly retouching an old oil painting..."

Meiheng blinked: "My last report... how did it go?"

The voice on the other end of the interface was silent for two seconds, then with a faint sigh said: "The review board ultimately decided to accept your account and not pursue your unauthorized actions, but the Chief Reviewer had a message I was to pass on privately."

Meiheng tensed at once: "They're not going to dock my pay, are they?!"

"...The Chief Reviewer hopes that next time you exploit a loophole, you won't be quite so brazen—at least describe your reasons a little more smoothly. Writing something like 'accepting a freight contract does not constitute interference in the war, because freight fees were collected' directly in the report makes things very difficult for everyone. When you were still an egg, were you really never dropped on the ground?"

"Was that last sentence also from the Chief Reviewer?"

"That one was from me."

Meiheng let out a breath and patted her chest: "Oh, that's a relief..."

A torrent of Taillond curses seemed to erupt from the other end of the communicator, but Meiheng Pernia had already muted the words that worked against her; she lifted her head, glanced at the column drawing ever nearer to Silverhold, then at the great cathedral not far off, still bathed in holy light and seemingly unchanged, and could not help but sigh softly.

"This generation of humans... has far too many variables...

"But if you can use these variables to break free of your shackles, that would not be bad at all."

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