“Alright, enough of your squabbling. Whether Julius becomes prince or not, you’ll find out tonight,” Elijah said impatiently, waving his hand.
He ordered his men, “Bring these rebels in and keep a close eye on them!”
“Yes, sir!” A squad of guards promptly approached, tightly binding Atticus and Ignatius.
“Elijah! We’re all sovereigns here. It’s disrespectful to treat us like this in public,” Atticus protested.
“Disrespectful?” Elijah sneered. “Both of you are now prisoners. What respect are you talking about?”
“Elijah! The outcome is still uncertain. Have you considered the consequences if Grand General Rhys ascends the throne, and you’ve treated us like this? “Atticus frowned.
“He’s right! You’re in power now, and that might not last forever. It’s wise to leave room for future interactions. Don’t go too far!” Ignatius chimed in.
“Whether you two will live through tonight is questionable. Don’t dare to rant in front of me. Gag them! I don’t want to hear any more noise,” Elijah ordered again.
“You-”
Before Atticus and Ignatius could say more, their mouths were forcefully sealed, and they could only make muffled sounds.
“Take them away!” Elijah gestured, and the two were escorted onto a waiting car.
Then, Elijah’s gaze shifted to Dustin. ” You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“We have. I’m from the castle,” Dustin replied.
“Oh, really?” Elijah narrowed his eyes, expressing skepticism. “I’m familiar with all the top talents in the castle, but you? I don’t recognize you. What’s your background?”
“My identity will be revealed in due time. Farewell, sir!” Dustin saluted Elijah, then with a swift step, he turned into a shadow and vanished down the street.
“Such speed!” Elijah was surprised.
With a deep understanding of martial arts, he deemed himself to be among the top five fighters in all of West Lucozia.
The person who had just left gave Elijah a sense of profound mystery. Vaguely, he even saw shadows of the Sword Whisperer, Seth Hughes.
“Move! Reinforce the castle!” Without dwelling on it, Elijah immediately led a considerable force toward the castle. At the castle gates, Draven and Mortimer, the two sovereigns, were bound and suspended at the entrance.
“Halt! Cease all actions!” Eloise brandished her sword and shouted, “If you don’t stop, I’ll kill your lords!”
As soon as she spoke, half of the soldiers halted their movements. They hesitated and were uncertain. The tumultuous battlefield suddenly quieted down.
“Drop your weapons!” Eloise commanded once more. Soldiers glanced at each other, undecided, their gazes focusing on their respective generals.
“Drop your weapons!” she reiterated. She swung her longsword, placing it against Draven’s neck.
The sharp blade cut through the flesh, and a trickle of blood seeped out, dripping along the edge of the blade.
Feeling the cold sensation on his neck, Draven nearly wet himself. He immediately shouted, “Are you all deaf? Drop your weapons!”
“Quick! Drop your weapons!” several commanders bellowed, alarmed by the peril their lord faced.
The clatter of discarded weapons resonated through the air.
