The royal palace sits atop a hill at the deepest part of the Royal Capital, with more than twenty equally spaced circular towers connected by city walls. The outermost circumference is approximately 1,400 meters.
This old building, protected by double walls, appeared particularly quiet in the afternoon sun.
Like an old, giant beast, lying on the Abelion Hills, even its breathing has become weak.
Higashino Makoto stood in front of the palace gate, looking up at the heavy oak door.
Two fully armed soldiers stood on either side of the door frame, their silver-white armor gleaming, their spears pointing straight to the sky.
Their posture was perfect, but Higashino Makoto noticed that their eyes were empty.
They weren't on guard; they were just spacing out.
"Mr. Higashino."
Lakyus stood beside him, dressed in a simple white dress, without armor or her magic sword.
Her long, golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, and a hint of tension lingered in her emerald green eyes.
"His Majesty the King is already waiting for you."
What are you doing here?
Higashino Makoto glanced at her sideways.
Lakyus was silent for a moment.
"Because I'm worried that you might get into a fight at the slightest provocation..."
Higashino Makoto raised an eyebrow.
"What? Kill the king? Do you think I would do that?"
I don't think you will.
Lakyus's voice was calm.
"But others don't see it that way. So they put me in charge as 'insurance.'"
Higashino Makoto chuckled softly.
"You're quite honest."
"I've said it before, I don't like beating around the bush."
Lakyus stepped forward and pushed open the door.
"Please come in."
Higashino Makoto followed her into the palace.
Illya followed beside him, her long, silvery-white hair gleaming faintly in the dim corridor, her purple dress standing out vividly against the gray stone walls.
Its bright red eyes looked around curiously, like a cat that had entered unfamiliar territory.
The corridor was long, with portraits of past kings hanging on the walls on both sides.
From the first to the third generation, each painting was incredibly lifelike, but the later ones depicted the kings as increasingly... mediocre.
It's not that she's ordinary in appearance, but rather in her temperament.
That kind of mediocrity, thinking, "I only became king because I was born here."
Higashino Makoto stared at the portraits, his dark eyes devoid of any emotion.
"Mr. Higashino."
Lakyus walked ahead without looking back.
What are your impressions of the Re-Estize Kingdom?
"Not very good."
Higashino Makoto's answer was concise and to the point.
Lakyus paused slightly in his steps.
Can you explain why?
"Because this city is rotting. From the inside out."
Higashino Makoto's tone was flat.
"The streets were dilapidated, the buildings were low, and the people looked numb. The nobles lived in mansions, eating delicacies and discussing how to seize more land from each other. Meanwhile, the common people were starving."
He paused.
"This is not a normally developing country; it's a mess."
Lakyus fell silent.
She continued walking, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.
"You're right."
She finally spoke, her voice very soft.
"The Re-Estize Kingdom is indeed rotting, but some people are trying. His Majesty the King is trying, the Warrior Captain is trying, and we are trying."
Is hard work even worthwhile?
Higashino Makoto asked.
Lakyus remained silent for a long time.
I don't know. But it's better than doing nothing.
Higashino Makoto did not respond.
He simply kept walking forward, his dark eyes fixed on the end of the corridor.
There, a large gate carved with dragon patterns stood open, beyond which lay the Re-Estize Kingdom's power center—
Francia Palace.
The palace was smaller than Higashino Makoto had imagined.
It's not that the area is small, but rather that the layout is small.
The ceiling isn't high enough, the walls aren't wide enough, and the decorations aren't exquisite enough.
Everything seemed forced or reluctant.
They barely managed to maintain the dignity of the royal family, and barely managed to prevent outsiders from realizing that the country was on the verge of collapse.
In the center of the palace, an old man sat in a high-backed chair.
His hair was gray, his body was thin, and his face was so pale it was almost transparent.
His hands were as thin as withered wood, with blue veins faintly visible beneath his skin.
A blanket was covering his knees, and beneath the blanket were legs that had once galloped across battlefields but now could only walk with the aid of crutches.
Ramposa III, who reigned for forty years, was once a valiant warrior, but is now an old man in his twilight years.
He was called "the benevolent father" and "the last conscience of this country".
Higashino Makoto looked at him, his dark eyes devoid of any emotion.
A middle-aged man stood next to the old man.
He was in his thirties, with a robust build and a resolute face.
He wore a full suit of crimson armor, with a long sword hanging at his waist, and stood as straight as a pine tree.
His black hair was neatly combed back, and his black eyes were sharp and determined.
Gazef. Stroronov.
Warrior Captain.
The strongest warriors in the surrounding countries on the surface.
A legend who rose from humble beginnings, Hero who repelled countless Baharuth Empire invasions.
But at this moment, he stood there, his hand on the hilt of his sword, watching Higashino Makoto.
It's like looking at an uncertain threat.
There was no one else in the palace.
There were no attendants, no guards, and none of the sycophantic ministers who usually fawned over the king.
Only the King, the Warrior Captain, Lakyus, and Higashino Makoto and Illya were present.
Lakyus walked up to the king and bowed slightly.
"Your Majesty, Mr. Higashino has arrived."
The king raised his head and looked at Higashino Makoto with his cloudy, bloodshot eyes.
He stared at it for a long time, so long that Lakyus's back began to stiffen, so long that Gazef's fingers tightened slightly on the hilt of his sword.
Then he spoke.
"Higashino, please have a seat."
His voice was hoarse and weak, but it carried a calmness unique to the elderly, a calmness born from having weathered many storms.
Higashino Makoto did not sit down.
He simply stood there, his dark eyes fixed on the king.
"Your Majesty, I have come here for two matters."
"Please speak."
"First, Eight Fingers. Second, your throne."
The air in the palace seemed to freeze.
Lakyus's pupils contracted slightly, Gazef's hand gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, and the king's fingers trembled slightly on the blanket.
"Mr. Higashino --"
Lakyus was about to say something, but Higashino Makoto raised his hand, interrupting her.
"I'm not here to negotiate, I'm here to inform you."
His voice was calm, but every word was like a knife.
"The 'Eight Fingers' have been running rampant in the Royal Capital for so many years, with your nobles secretly supporting them, your officials accepting bribes, and your people being exploited, sold, and murdered by them. And what has your king done?"
No one answered.
There's nothing there.
Higashino Makoto answered for them.
"You sit in the palace, discussing how to balance the power among the nobles, how to maintain the dignity of the royal family, and how to prolong this mess for a few more years. You dare not touch the 'Eight Fingers,' because touching the 'Eight Fingers' would touch the nobles. You dare not touch the nobles, because touching the nobles would shake the foundation of the royal family."
He looked at the king, his dark eyes devoid of any emotion.
"So you do nothing. You just watch this country rot away."