Damascus Royal Palace.
Compared to the clamor within and outside the city, the atmosphere in the palace was terrifyingly quiet.
The Qasari Guard had sealed the palace gates and silently sharpened their weapons, prepared arrows, stones, and fire jars, waiting for the final slaughter and their own destiny.
No one believed they could still win, yet they still chose to fight to the end.
In the silent depths of the palace, Mujit, covered in bloodstains, slowly approached the sickbed.
The Black Eunuch wanted to rebuke him, but a single glare from the city garrison's general left him unable to utter a word.
"Your Majesty, the Crown Prince died in battle. He said he died protecting his father and Damascus."
The man on the sickbed, once lion-like, remained silent for a long time. It made one wonder whether his life, already like a candle flickering in the wind, had finally come to an end after facing the dragon three days ago.
The Black Eunuch covered his mouth, tears welling in his eyes, yet he dared not make a sound.
After a long while.
The man on the sickbed finally spoke.
"I know."
His voice was hoarse, like a rusted anvil that had not been used in years, yet it revealed no grief.
Mujit hesitated before saying, "His Highness saw through your plan. He also guessed that Prince Aziz had done the same, which was why he abandoned the city and fled before the Franks launched their attack."
The room once again fell into deathly silence.
Only after a long while did this aged lion force an ugly smile onto his face. A cloudy tear trickled from his sunken eye socket. "Heh. As expected of the son I valued most. Mujit, help me up. The Franks have entered the city?"
"Yes."
He