Chapter 327 Someone
Esmeralda was not sitting on her silver throne - slightly smaller than the king's throne, with a more slender and soft shape, representing the tolerance and kindness of the mother of the country and the gentleness and obedience of a wife.
She stood behind Cassius II, dressed in a black dress, like an ominous beast, her shadow stretching out long. Her golden eyes were cold and bright, possessing a strange, chilling calm. The king, with his back to her, was shaking his legs anxiously. The palace attendants knelt before them, trembling with fear. The ghost's voice could be clearly heard from the crystal ball, not missing a word.
The young man was surrounded by the crowd, the height difference created by the wooden boxes beneath his feet making him feel as if he were being lifted up by the crowd. His striking smoky-gray eyes seemed to casually glance towards the crystal ball, meeting the gaze of the person peeping behind the spell—then he looked away, raised his ridiculous tin trumpet, and continued to preach those jaw-dropping nonsense.
"Can't we drive him away?" Cassius II asked anxiously, ruffling his hair nervously. "Where are the guards? Where are the royal soldiers? What are they doing? Why don't they disperse this group of people immediately?!"
The kneeling attendant whispered, "Your Majesty, there are over a thousand civilians outside the palace gates. They haven't stormed the palace, and mobilizing the royal army will take time. The captain of the guards doesn't dare act on his own, fearing that it might incite a civil uprising and disturb Your Majesty."
"Civil uprising?"
A bewildered look appeared on the king's face, as if he had not yet understood the meaning of this word. When he reacted, his expression suddenly changed - even the most incompetent monarch should understand what this meant.
"This, isn't it just a tax rate adjustment? Are these people making such a fuss?!" He stuttered angrily, leaning forward subconsciously as if he had found a lifeline. "Oh, right, tell them that the tax rates in the areas where the members of the Third Parliament are located have been specially reduced. If there's any grievance or grudge, tell the Supervisory Court and say it's the king's order. They'll handle it impartially..."
"Your Majesty." A hoarse voice sounded, interrupting Cassius II's incoherent speech.
The queen's hand on the king's shoulder seemed to be gentle, but it was as if it had a tremendous force, which made Cassius II silent. His body involuntarily shrank and he slowly sat back.
"Human hearts are extremely greedy, with no limit to their greed," Esmerel whispered, her golden eyes rarely focused, and it was unclear who she was evaluating. "At first, they were pitiful, just wanting a full meal to avoid starvation. Once they had a full meal, they desired a life of constant comfort. Once they had enough, they desired slaves and territories of their own, enjoying the splendor, wealth, and pleasures of the world to their heart's content. Once they had vast tracts of land, slaves, and wealth, they began to yearn for the highest position, wielding the greatest power in the world, and ideally, immortality."
"And wolves can never be fed." The queen's face was expressionless. There was no disappointment or contempt for her husband's cowardice or incompetence, nor was there anger and disgust towards the common people outside. Instead, there was a breathtaking, all-seeing, faint weariness and calmness. "A trainer can scare them with a whip, making them remember fear and pain; he can also give them some benefits, causing them to tear each other apart for scraps of meat. But when these foolish and cunning beasts decide to unite and growl at the trainer, the only thing that can drive the wolves is a flaming hunting rifle."
Cassius II looked at her deeply. For once, he didn't yell at his wife like a raging baby. Instead, his shoulders slumped. "Okay, enough of that nonsense. What are you going to do? You can't just let these people yell outside the palace—"
"Of course not." Esmerel glanced at the king. "The Ghost is best at inciting people. If we allow the situation to continue, its position in the hearts of the ignorant people will only become increasingly stronger and more uncontrollable, which is extremely disadvantageous to us."
"But if we don't want to be accused by various factions of wantonly and unconstitutionally slaughtering members of parliament, we can't act in the name of the royal family for the time being." She snorted coldly. "Although I don't care about this ridiculous reputation, it is indeed very troublesome."
The queen's golden eyes fell heavily on the black-haired young man in the crystal ball, mixed with an almost inaudible sigh.
“—but someone can do something.”
Outside the palace walls, the crowd grew larger and larger, until a low hum rose. They listened to demands they had once dared not even think about, exchanging glances. Freedom, dignity, power… was this something they could truly possess? Shock, doubt, confusion, and an incredible hope, along with a long-suppressed anger that suddenly ignited, instinctively drew them closer to the shabby "Blooming Conference Third Council Branch," closer to the representatives of the Third Council who, like them, came from humble backgrounds but stood tall and straight, and closer to that young man… with black hair and gray eyes.
But soon, a strange, low humming sound began to come from nowhere, as if someone was blowing some strange bone flute.
The low humming sound gently brushed across all the boiling minds. The ignited anger, the inspired courage, the stimulated hopes and desires, like a charcoal fire that was poured with a basin of cold water, silently cooled down and dimmed.
An indescribable sense of foreboding lingered in everyone's heart. The air, mingled with their companions' breaths, began to feel less scorching. The shouts that had just been deafening and heart-wrenching now seemed distant... and loud? A chill ran down their spines, as if bone spurs had sprouted. A subtle thought arose: "I shouldn't stay here." It felt as if, if they insisted on staying, something terrible would happen.
Nova's pupils shrank slightly, and he saw that the banner that was originally hanging firmly on the wooden stake seemed to tremble.
"Get off the stake!" the black-haired young man suddenly shouted, but at this moment, the iron horn that had been working well suddenly broke, and his voice was completely lost in the crowd's discussions.
The next second, several heavy wooden stakes cracked and creaked as they crashed down towards the nearest ghosts and several members of the Third Council, including the elderly man who was slow to react. A hit would have been enough to leave these unarmed ordinary people bleeding, or even killed on the spot.
The professor had no choice but to jump off the wooden box, dodging the falling wooden stakes while trying to pull the elderly councilor closest to him away. But just as he jumped, a stone appeared at the perfect spot where the black-haired young man was standing. He was about to lose his balance and be hit hard on the head by the heavy, wind-swept broken wooden stake.
A pair of hands suddenly grabbed the professor's armpits from behind, steadying him and pulling him away from the collapsing wood pile. The Shadow Chaser was also forced to reveal himself, and amidst the flying wood chips and screams of the crowd, he led several council members away from the danger zone.
"Guardian of the Royal Court, Sandra." The professor, still in shock, subconsciously grabbed the arm tightly wrapped around his chest, and then heard the savior whisper the name in his ear in a cold tone.
The other person rubbed the hair of the person in his arms with his chin in a soothing manner.
Nova was stunned for a moment, then realized who this person was—the most mysterious of the three saints of the Silver Iris Empire, and the only female saint. So mysterious was she that she hadn't appeared in public for over twenty years, until recently, amidst rumors of a "god appearing in Barandu City." She had recently appeared in the southern border of the empire, and was rumored to be stationed in Barandu City, terrorizing the Gray Domain Alliance.
According to rumors, the god the other party worships is Alanbe, the god of luck.
The professor narrowed his eyes slightly. Apparently, the Silver Iris Empire had finally ascertained that Saint Talon of the Alan Tribe wasn't missing but dead, freeing Sandra to return to the royal city. And what price had the queen paid to earn this mysterious saint's seemingly overused assistance?
——Is it, “God”?
But he had no time to reflect. The opposite of "luck" was spreading quietly in the open space in front of the palace. Before the brief chaos subsided, more "accidents" followed.
An apprentice standing in the front row, who had just been excited by the ghost's speech, was jostled and knocked over an old farmer smoking a pipe. The burning ash fell and burned a hole in the apprentice's sleeve, causing him to scream in pain.
This should have been a very small matter, but a gust of wind blew, and the sleeve of the linen shirt the other person was wearing caught fire. The people around him hurried to help pat it out, but in the crowded crowd, pushing and shoving were inevitable. For a moment, he was squeezed to the edge of the venue, and then he directly ignited the coarse cloth hanging around him, and the flames shot up high.
A Shadow Chaser quickly yanked the burning cloth down, threw it onto the ground, and stomped it out. But before they could finish dealing with the situation, another council member beside the professor inexplicably tripped and collided directly with a sharp, broken wooden stake not far away. The angle was so sharp that he was about to be pierced through the chest, but fortunately, Azuka grabbed him by the back of the collar.
The professor's eyes turned completely cold. An invisible, strange force was weaving a web of doom that enveloped the entire gathering.
"Everyone, don't panic! Stand still and look after each other!" He shouted loudly. Aided by the wind, his words carried a strange calming force, echoing through the chaotic and panicked crowd. Most people gradually quieted down, looking at their companions' faces in confusion and fear.
What happened? Until now, most people haven't even reacted.
The ghost turned his head slightly and ordered coldly to the shadow behind him: "Ore, force Sandra out."
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