There were clever people among the Red Fortress's original garrison. Once they realized something was wrong, they understood at once: Cyrabelle had withdrawn. Some were shocked and furious. They cursed her for fleeing on her own and treating the entire original garrison as expendable.
Others saw the situation more clearly. They understood that Cyrabelle could never have trusted officers from the original garrison, much less told them her plans in advance. And by withdrawing so openly, she had sent a signal at the first opportunity. Anyone with a little discernment could spot the signs and make a choice.
Some had even guessed that if they followed the retreating Royal Guard immediately, someone would probably meet them not far beyond the city.
But whether to follow was another question. The time had come to choose: which side would they stake their fortunes on?
The Revolutionary Army clearly held the advantage now, but everyone knew what they were: puppets the Rune Federation had pushed to the forefront. If the garrison joined them, they would be second-class citizens even if that side won.
For a time, many were caught between two choices. But there was no time left to hesitate.
At that moment, a decision made in the space of a thought would determine their fate.
After days of fierce fighting, just over thirty thousand troops remained from the Red Fortress's original garrison. A third followed the retreating Royal Guard under their officers' command. The other two-thirds stayed and surrendered. Some had sympathized with the Revolutionary Army all along; many others were simply weary of war. They chose to surrender for no reason beyond not wanting to fight anymore.
Whatever their reasons, the instant they made their choice, they sealed their fate.
Behind the Revolutionary Army, General Lukase watched his forces pour into