At the same time, inside a lavish, heavily guarded mansion with every curtain drawn in Treasure Island's central Noble District.
Unlike the growing chaos outside the windows, the atmosphere in the secret chamber brimmed with barely contained, feverish excitement.
The dozen or so nobles seated around the long table were the core members of the Conspiracy.
Shock and disbelief mingled on every face, ultimately overwhelmed by naked greed for power and wealth.
"His Majesty... Charles... is really dead?"
The elderly duke with graying hair still spoke with a slight tremor, but his eyes gleamed.
"In that corridor? Shot dead?"
"Beyond any doubt!"
Another, younger marquis nodded vigorously, his face flushed with excitement.
"My informant saw it himself. Charles's head was blown open. There's no way he survived. The Palace Guard has gone mad. They're arresting people everywhere!"
"Who did it?"
A fat count wiped the sweat from his forehead as he asked, both excited and shaken.
"The suicide operatives we arranged weren't supposed to act until tomorrow night. Who beat us to it? This... this has thrown all our plans into disarray!"
They exchanged glances, their eyes carrying the same question and a hint of wariness.
They studied one another, searching for some telltale sign.
After a brief silence and some mutual probing, the viscount responsible for contacting Neharry suddenly slapped his forehead in realization.
"Wait, didn't Baron Neharry use his connections to slip a few people into the Royal Palace as guards today? He said it was to protect His Majesty and contribute to the plan?"
Every gaze immediately turned toward him.
"Yes, that's right!"
"My people reported that to me too."
"Could it be..."
The clues quickly fell into place.
Neharry's request to plant men inside, the sudden shooting, the assassins all killed and unable to testify...
"It