The avenue outside the Royal Palace was unusually quiet that night. Those uninvolved had been arranged to leave early, and even the guards originally responsible for palace security had received special orders to abandon their posts.
There were also those who could not leave, such as the Old King, who had finished his performance. He huddled in a corner of the bedroom with more than a dozen of his granddaughters and granddaughters-in-law, holding one another and trembling.
In ordinary people's eyes, they were royalty of exalted status, the spiritual totem of the Vien Empire. When news of the previous Queen's death spread, not only had many people in Vienne grieved, but quite a few colonial subjects in the empire's colonies had also knelt for long stretches, weeping bitterly;
They likened themselves to "pigs and dogs," while in their eyes, the Vien royalty were "gods."
But in the face of a real struggle between orthodox Order God Churches, royalty were merely human too. No, they were pigs and dogs just the same.
So there was little they could do now. They did not even know what was happening outside and could only pray that this calamity would not reach them.
The Old King's pale lips quivered as he muttered. How he wished he were a cockroach right now. Then he would be even less likely to draw anyone's attention and could gain true freedom.
This was no longer a knife hanging over their heads, but the immense terror that a stray aftershock from a Spell Art could escape at any moment and flatten the place where they were staying.
In fact, the palace interior was very deserted now. Even the servants had largely been arranged to leave, because the original plan had been to stage a distinctive entertainment program representing the