Blood had already spilled everywhere

"Brothers of the Stonemasons' Guild! We gathered here today because we have been treated with extreme unfairness!"

VanCleef, who had climbed out of the sewers only half an hour earlier, stood in the center of Cathedral Square in filthy blue work clothes, his hands clenched tightly into fists. Before him stood a group of representatives of workers whose wages had gone unpaid for years.

Among them, some had families still going hungry, some had family members gravely ill, and others had families living on the streets...

VanCleef stood on the raised platform, waving his arms and shouting, "We only want to reclaim the pay we are owed, yet those nobles in the council accuse us of plotting a rebellion!"

"We are unarmed! We have never raised a fist against anyone! We have shown tremendous restraint, yet they still spread vicious rumors about us everywhere!"

"This has become intolerable!"

VanCleef's voice was filled with grief and indignation.

In fact, just yesterday, from Stormwind City to Goldshire in Elwynn Forest, agents of the Council of Nobles had been spreading rumors everywhere that "the Stonemasons' Brotherhood is preparing to rebel."

"Lescovar, Bolvar, and all those distinguished grandees promised to pay our wages, but now they have vanished without a trace!"

"Bolvar, come out here right now! We demand an explanation!"

"That's right!" the crowd below shouted. "Bolvar, get out here! We want to speak with Grand Duke Bolvar!"

At that moment, the people and scenery of Cathedral Square, bathed in sunlight, formed an exceptionally perfect tableau-the world-famous painting "Grand Duke Bolvar in Lordaeron."

The stonemasons raised a deafening clamor. Their level of education was markedly lower than VanCleef's own, so their slogans were not as literary as their guild leader's, but more colloquial:

"Good news, good news! Stormwind City is going out of business!"

"Those bastard nobles squandered all our money on eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling!"

"Varian, you're inhuman! We worked our asses off for you for four years, and you didn't pay us-you even ran off with your Bolvar!"

Meanwhile, near Cathedral Square.

"What's going on here?" Tiffin Ellerian came over curiously, holding the young prince. "What are they doing?"

"Marshal Windsor, it is extremely dangerous here. Please escort Her Majesty the Queen back to Stormwind Keep at once!" Katrana Count Prestor ordered.

This was a perfectly reasonable request, and Windsor had no reason to refuse. Thus, he could only take a squad of soldiers and escort the queen away.

After Windsor left, Katrana's eyes fixed intently on Marcus Jonathan, now the highest-ranking military commander present.

"General Jonathan, can the dignity of the royal family be desecrated?" Katrana's tone was extremely stern, while her voice was seductive and husky.

"N-no..."

"Right now, these vulgar, ignorant rabble are brazenly insulting the king! As commander of Stormwind City's garrison, you should shoulder your sacred duty against rebels who defy the authority of the crown! You do not need to compromise with them, nor should you... Ignorant commoners are born to obey the king's leadership. Remember, you serve His Majesty the King. You should be firmer with this rabble!"

A chaotic green light shone in Katrana's eyes, visible only to General Jonathan.

As time passed, Jonathan's gaze grew increasingly unfocused.

His will was crumbling little by little, his reason yielding to the Countess bit by bit, but he still managed to say with great difficulty, "But they will rebel... Many people will bleed, things will turn ugly... Our kingdom will become the laughingstock of the Alliance..."

"But they are already rebelling. Their insults and slander against His Majesty the King and His Highness the Regent are the best proof!" Katrana's gaze held wondrous magic. "These concerns are unnecessary, General Jonathan. You need only know that everything is for His Majesty the King. You need only be loyal to the king!"

Katrana rested her hand gently on Jonathan's shoulder, leaned toward his ear, and whispered, "King Varian will see your loyalty, your sacrifice, your unyielding will, and your resolve of steel. You are His Majesty Wrynn's greatest general, the hand of the king!"

"Go, General Marcus. Do what you must. Eliminate these rioters, make them disappear, and do not cause His Majesty the King any trouble!"

Marcus's eyes grew dull and lifeless. He nodded mechanically, like a robot programmed in advance, and said, word by word:

"The. Rioters. Are. Destined. To. Fail! Long. Live. The. King!"

Marcus executed a textbook one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, with an angular margin of error certainly no greater than ten arcseconds.

Then he strode straight ahead, each step exactly eighty centimeters long, at one and a half steps per second, with extreme precision-a standard this general had previously been unable to achieve.

Then, in a tone completely devoid of emotion, he ordered the soldiers, "Warriors of the Kingdom of Stormwind! Follow my command and eliminate these rioters!"

"Sir, I'm afraid this-" One soldier seemed a little hesitant.

"You are a soldier." Marcus's voice was cold and merciless, frightening the soldier into a shudder. "Your commander's orders and the king's will take first priority. You must obey orders and fight for the king."

He drew his sword and continued, "A soldier who disobeys orders has no value in existing."

By then, the black dragonkin disguised as soldiers had already been the first to act on Marcus's orders, charging toward the place where the stonemasons had gathered.

"...Yes, sir." Once someone took the lead, the other soldiers soon faithfully carried out the orders as well.

Afterward, almost no one could accurately describe what had happened in Cathedral Square that day-the soldiers of Stormwind City were unwilling to mention it, while almost all the survivors suffered from severe post-traumatic stress disorder.

As for General Jonathan himself, in the final moments of his life, he merely repented endlessly before the gallows.

And whenever anyone dared mention the words "Cathedral Square" in VanCleef's presence, he would rage and shout incoherently, bellowing nothing but illogical, incomprehensible words.

When Felix, Vladimir, and Joseph finally managed to emerge from the sewers, all they found were crowds fleeing in panic through the streets and bodies strewn everywhere.

For a moment, he could not distinguish which of these people had been killed and which had been trampled to death.

Some wore the blue uniforms of stonemasons, while others wore very casual civilian clothing. Among them were even the bodies of three women and two children.

Once an army became consumed by bloodlust, its soldiers no longer had so many scruples. Even modern armies were like this, let alone the army of the Kingdom of Stormwind.

The smell of blood in the air made it somewhat difficult for Felix to breathe.

He could not speak, nor were there any words that could describe the scene before him with much accuracy. Felix merely felt that he was not in the human world.

Blood and corpses filled his surroundings, making it difficult for him to breathe, see, or hear-this was the deepest, darkest sorrow from The Maw.