Inside the Parliament Hall, only heavy breathing remained besides the patter of rain outside the windows.
Every gaze was fixed on the severed finger.
The mithril ring symbolizing supreme authority over Eastern Foothills Province stared coldly at everyone present, much like Marquis Garcia's sinister eyes.
"Impossible... absolutely impossible..."
Berg slumped on the floor, his eyes bloodshot and his lips trembling uncontrollably. He could no longer maintain his meek, submissive facade.
Garcia had lost?
The marquis who had ruled the Eastern Foothills for thirty years, who had kept Golden Thread Province pinned beneath his heel, had actually lost to a boy exiled by his own family?
After the fear came crushing despair.
Berg knew perfectly well what he had done. Not only had he tried to drive out the Alliance's people, he had also attempted to place Caroline under house arrest. If Veylin had won, the best Berg could hope for was to be hung over the city gates and left to dry.
"Fake! This is fake!"
Berg sprang up from the floor with an agility utterly unlike that of a stooped old man. He swept the black velvet box off the table, sending the severed finger tumbling into the shadows beneath it.
"This is an illusion! That woman fabricated it!"
Berg roared hysterically, spittle spraying onto the expensive tablecloth.
He spun around, his perpetually shifty little eyes now blazing with murderous fury as he stared at the terrified nobles around him.
"You stupid pigs! What are you staring at? If Marquis Garcia really has lost, do you think Veylin will spare us? We're all on the losing side! We're the ones he'll purge!"
He drew the sword at his waist and pointed its trembling tip at the red-clad figure at the far end of the long table.
"Seize her! As