The soldiers wore silver armor that gleamed coldly beneath the bright, clear sky.
Close behind them came twenty-four cavalrymen, also clad in silver armor, and behind those twenty-four riders was the royal carriage of Han Yuan, King of the Galloping Sky Nation.
The King, nearly seventy and with hair already entirely white, wore a black ceremonial robe without a crown. A gilded copper incense burner hung inside the carriage, and the gold threads of his robe shimmered in and out of sight through the thin incense haze.
Outside the carriage, the clatter of hooves and the soldiers' footfalls had been constant, but soon those sounds were swallowed by the ever-louder clamor.
At first came quiet murmurs of "He's here, he's here," then one ringing cry of "Your Majesty" after another, until finally they became a tide of "Long live the King!"
Han Yuan showed no expression throughout.
He had occupied the throne for more than forty years.
Yet whenever he heard the people's cries, they always carried his thoughts back forty-five years, to the morning of his coronation.
The late King had been Han Yuan's elder brother.
But the late King had died young, at only thirty-one, and had left no children.
With the ministers' backing, Han Yuan had naturally become King of the Galloping Sky Nation.
At the time, Han Yuan had been only twenty-three himself.
Those forty-five years seemed as though they had passed only yesterday.
Although Han Yuan was still remarkably hale and hearty, one question remained constantly on his mind.
How many more years could I live?
The Crown Prince had been appointed when Han Yuan was thirty-six, but over the years, Han Yuan had grown increasingly dissatisfied with him.
Leaving his mediocre abilities aside, Han Yuan did not know whether it was merely because he