February 14th, 13th year of the Federal Calendar.
At six o'clock in the morning, Von Palen woke up in his bedroom. As always, he meticulously made his bed, took out the arrest list and some documents he had written the night before from the drawer, and walked out of the small room where he had lived alone for thirteen years.
In the corridor outside the door, officials led by Wolfgang were already waiting. After seeing von Palen walk out of the room, they silently followed von Palen's footsteps, walking heavily to the conference room on the first floor.
At seven o'clock, the meeting officially began. Only a dozen or so national dignitaries attended, all of whom were key figures in the country. Meanwhile, the corridor outside the meeting room was already crowded with officials of all ranks who were not qualified to attend.
At the end of the corridor, Dingle leaned against the window, a cigarette between his fingers, but because he hadn't fully gotten used to it, he would cough twice while smoking.
With a "thud".
An officer in a naval uniform opened the window at that moment, and the wind from outside blew into the corridor, dissipating much of the smoke that had been swirling around Dingle.
"Sigh." The officer who opened the window sighed. "This is terrible..."
Upon hearing this, Dingle, who had just put a cigarette in his mouth, couldn't help but lift his eyelids and saw the row of medals hanging on the officer's chest. Each one was dazzling, clearly indicating that this person was of high status.
When his gaze finally fell on the officer's face, Dingle slowly exhaled a puff of smoke and asked:
"General Gustav, why didn't you go in?"
When questioned, Gustav shook his head and offered no explanation.
Dingle stopped asking questions and instead looked out the window, taking one puff of his cigarette after another.
After an unknown amount of time, when Dingle took out another cigarette from the tin box, Gustave, who was standing nearby, suddenly took off his hat and said:
What will happen to those who have been arrested?
His voice was very soft, as if he were asking a question, or as if he were talking to himself. Dingle couldn't help but look at Gustav.
Gustav was slightly hunched over, one hand resting on the window, the other clutching his hat, his face extremely pale, and the hand holding the hat was trembling.
Dingle was silent for a few seconds, then put the cigarette he had taken out back and said, "I don't know."
"How could you not know? Didn't Field Marshal Wolfgang tell you?" Gustav asked stiffly.
Dingle shook his head: "He didn't say, and I didn't ask."
Upon hearing this answer, Gustav stared intently at Dingle's face for several seconds before looking away.
Then, he put on his hat, pulled the brim down, hunched over, and turned away from the window, his face pale.
As Dingle watched his figure gradually disappear into the crowd, he took out another cigarette from the box amidst his melancholy.
Following the rally that day, a group of officials, led by Bowerman, were arrested and imprisoned, and the Storm Special Combat Team was disbanded, with all those still holding positions arrested.
But the arrests were not over yet, because this morning a messenger brought news that the Yan Kingdom's army had left Eldenburg and was on its way to Salvia.
They will arrive in Salibia in the afternoon.
Although the decision has been made to surrender to the Yan Kingdom, and therefore no troops have been sent to defend it, no one can predict whether the surrender will lead the Yan Kingdom to declare an end to the war.
Dingle lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and with a sigh, exhaled a long puff of bitter smoke.
The meeting ended close to noon.
At 1 p.m., a messenger delivered an urgent report.
At 1:30, led by Wolfgang, a large group of officials left the Royal Castle by carriage and headed towards the gates of Salibia.
At the same time, a sharp alarm sounded in Salibia.
——
At 4:30 p.m., the caravan arrived at the city gate. The group of people got off the carriages one after another and then walked out of the city gate.
As they passed through the towering and imposing St. Marien Wall, Wolfgang, who was at the front of the procession, couldn't help but look up at the sky.
A few clouds floated in the azure sky; it was a sunny day.
The army was still stationed outside the city gate, but it had all been disarmed, so they were just standing in neat rows outside.
As Wolfgang led his officials out of the city gate, a colonel immediately jogged up to him.
"Marshal...they are on their way, it will probably take another hour."
"The troops... are numerous," the colonel said, his face pale and his voice trembling slightly.
Wolfgang nodded: "Yes, I understand."
The colonel followed up, "Sir...do we need...?"
Before he could finish speaking, Wolfgang calmly shook his head:
"You don't need to do anything."
"And do nothing at all."
"Yes, sir." The colonel replied and turned back to his unit.
Everyone stood still, gazing at the long, straight road, awaiting the arrival of the Yan Kingdom's army.
As time passed, Wolfgang's originally calm face visibly paled, and sweat gradually seeped from his drooping palms.
A gentle breeze caressed everyone's face, warm and comforting, as if telling everyone that spring had arrived. However, without realizing it, almost everyone's breathing became rapid.
As the sun gradually slanted westward, the clouds on the distant horizon appeared to be slowly ignited by flames, turning the once clear blue sky a fiery red.
It seemed as if the heat from the sky had been transferred to the ground, and the people standing there began to sweat profusely, but it wasn't hot sweat; it was icy cold sweat.
"Pat-pat-pat..."
The continuous sound of horses' hooves echoed across the vast land like drumsticks falling incessantly.
Sweat streamed down Wolfgang's temples and fell onto the slightly trembling ground, where a thick layer of dust filled the air.
The sun had already sunk to the very edge of the sky. In the final moments of the day, it became enormous, like a scorching mirror of fire, looking down upon the earth. Every ray of light it emitted was like the focal point of that mirror, so intensely hot that one dared not look directly at it, inspiring both awe and reverence.
The slanting sunlight shone brightly, turning the entire sky blood red, and the air itself seemed to be on fire, constantly fluctuating.
The sunset at the end of winter and the beginning of spring was not very warm, but those standing here felt as if their bodies were burning. Amidst the blood-red beams of light that filled the sky and the earth, Wolfgang glanced sideways at his son Dingle beside him.
After looking at his son's profile for a few seconds, Wolfgang slowly turned his face, his whole body trembling as he raised his arm, followed by countless white flags.
Opposite them, the Yan Kingdom army, galloping on horseback, also carried banners.
The difference between the two is that the Yan army is holding high all red flags, and these countless red flags are fluttering powerfully on the earth.
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