The night had deepened, and the temperature was falling.
In the corridor outside the Ballad Room, the Royal Guard had deployed as few men as possible for secrecy, yet as many as possible for sufficient coverage, forming the most efficient and strictest defensive encirclement. They filled every corner within sight.
The innermost guards maintained absolute silence and focus, standing ready for anything.
They had all been selected from the Six Wings. Elite soldiers with both experience and ability, they kept one hand on their weapons while staring fixedly at the door to the Imperial Council chamber.
It was as if what was locked behind that door was not something else, but the most mysterious, cruel, and terrifying beast in Revival Palace, sharpening its teeth and licking its claws, growling hoarsely as it waited to burst through the door and devour someone.
But they could not be timid, much less retreat.
They were the Imperial Guard, heirs to a tradition spanning the ages. They had their oath. They would guard this door until the Imperial Order reappeared.
Or until the throne fell silent.
The lamplight flickered, and the corridor was bleak and desolate.
Time passed second by second. Restlessness spread through the air, and the fingers pressing against sword hilts tightened further and further.
Yet the heavy stone door remained utterly still, silent and unmoving.
Facing countless increasingly keen gazes, it remained unmoved by honor or disgrace, dutifully keeping every beast locked behind it.
Just as it had for the past six hundred years.
Six physicians specializing in emergency treatment for external injuries, toxicology, pharmacology, and other fields had been urgently summoned by the Court Baron and ordered to wait on the outskirts. Completely bewildered, anxious yet afraid to ask questions, they could only force themselves to stay alert in the