Half an hour earlier, when everything had only just begun.
London, Astronomical Society headquarters. Unlike the bustling Decision Room and Command Center, the lounge atop the building was quiet.
It had originally been a place for attending representatives to take brief rests, but with London under attack and the War of All Realms having begun in such haste, the lounge had lost its usual clamor.
Only in one corner, several elderly people who had wandered in sat around a table, basking in the sun.
Representatives from the Zoroastrian Lineage, Ice Sea Lineage, Celtic Lineage, Assyrian Lineage, Xinluo Lineage... and various smaller lineages or regions drank tea and coffee. They could faintly hear the uproar from the distant conference room, and whenever they spoke among themselves, they could not help but smile wryly.
Even within a massive storm, there were corners of relative calm.
Those understudies who had no hope of taking the stage and were of no real importance no longer wished to remain and share in others' joys and sorrows. With a tacit understanding born of avoidance, they had come to the lounge, trying to escape the tangled situation and the pressure of reality for a brief moment of rest.
Then, in the silence, a door opened.
"Everyone's here?"
The late-arriving Mr. Russell strode in lightly. After leaving the medical ward, he still had a Band-Aid theatrically stuck to his forehead, as though to display the hardship and "sacrifice" he had endured in facing the ruler.
Holding a pipe between his fingers, he waved to those at the table. "Anyone got a light?"
"Mr. Russell, you came too?"
The old man at the table turned around, looking slightly surprised.
"Of course. Aren't you all here too?" Mr. Russell pulled over a chair and sat down in a more comfortable