The young man in exquisite armor, holding a Black Knight's Lance, looked at the battered remnants gathering around him. Thinking of the murdered Jonah, he felt flames burning in his heart. He wished Charlotte were standing before him so he could run that bastard through with a single thrust.
More than a dozen South Seraph Restoration Army commanders gathered together. Every one of them was dispirited, every one carried a trace of grief, and some were even sobbing quietly.
Charlotte truly had no idea who Jonah was.
Jonah was South Seraph's last prince and its sole remaining royal. If he had been willing to surrender, he could not have remained Grand Duke of South Seraph, but he would at least have been granted a viscountcy. If the Emperor had been especially pleased, he might even have been made a count.
Jonah was also the South Seraph Restoration Army's greatest spiritual leader, the final totem of the South Seraph people.
To South Seraph, his death was as significant as the assassination of Grand Duke Ferdinand—nothing less than the sky collapsing and the mountains and seas roaring.
The South Seraph people could not bear such an outcome.
The young Knight said resolutely, "We will capture Silver Doveburg and kill every last person there. As for the murderer who killed Jonah, I will kill him with my own hands and make him taste every torture in the world before he dies."
"Even so, Jonah cannot be brought back."
"I am guilty."
Tears streamed down the young Knight's face. Jonah had been like a father to him, raising him from an orphan into a high-ranking Knight. Jonah had possessed no talent for the path of Transcendence, but in his youth, he had studied at a university in Byron. He had been an excellent teacher