Early that morning, Chris listened to the clerk's report as he entered Treasure Island City in a luxurious carriage that could practically be called a mobile fortress.
It was an excellent carriage. Its thick soundproof lining reduced all the noise outside-the cheering crowds, the honor guard's music, even the wheels rattling over the stone pavement-to a dull background hum. That was precisely why Chris now wondered whether he had misheard.
"The Minisian Restoration Army is fighting among itself?"
Leaning against the velvet-padded backrest, Chris sounded almost incredulous at the absurdity of it. He could barely keep his expression composed either.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Cross-checking reports from Albatross and several other sources confirms that a violent clash took place last night."
The clerk's voice was as flat as ever, as though he were reading out an inventory.
"First, unidentified armed personnel attacked an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the Dock District. Both the attackers and those attacked are believed to have been members of the Restoration Army.
"Then, before dawn, a fire broke out at the apartment where the Restoration Army's nominal military leader, the former Minisian knight Sir Dolong, was hiding. The blaze was so severe that it nearly destroyed the entire building. Several charred bodies were found at the scene, and identification is still underway."
Chris froze for a moment at the news, then actually chuckled under his breath and shook his head.
He raised a hand to rub between his eyebrows, his expression a mixture of mockery and unsurprised resignation.
"Infighting... ha. Should I say they're keeping their traditions alive? I haven't even made my move, and they're already hacking each other apart."
His gaze shifted to the carriage's small window, fitted with bulletproof glass. Treasure Island City's streets swept swiftly past outside. Crowds packed both sides