novelzi Chapter 786 - 433: Imperial Capital Status (2)
Chapter 786 - 433: Imperial Capital Status (2)
Every hundred steps, a temporary outpost could be seen, with iron plates nailed to wooden stakes. Behind the plates stood fully armed soldiers, their crossbows perpetually taut.
As the knight patrol turned the street corner, pedestrians fell to the ground like stalks of wheat swept by the wind.
No one needed reminding; the rules here were evidently ingrained in their bones.
Commoners had to kneel, with their foreheads touching the ground and their hands spread open.
Someone who was a beat slow was directly kicked over by the front hooves of a warhorse, rolled half a circle on the stone slabs, and then stomped on by the hooves from behind.
A scream echoed, yet the procession did not stop, the knights didn’t even glance down.
Valerius dismounted his horse as well.
The cold of the stone slabs seeped through his knees, leaving him with a nameless absurdity.
Continuing forward, a commotion arose from a side street.
It was a tavern, surrounded by a circle of knights at the entrance.
Two knights were dueling, their blades clashing and sparking as if putting on a show for someone.
The surrounding laughter and jeering merged into one; someone bet loudly, their tone as flippant as if gambling on dice.
Valerius instinctively looked for the judge, but saw only a woman pressed into the corner of the wall.
Her hand was forcefully pinned to a barrel, her mouth gagged, and she couldn’t make any sound.
Only then did he realize what the stakes were.
The outcome was quickly decided.
The victorious knight kicked his opponent aside, casually swung his sword, and blood splattered onto the tavern’s wooden door, leaving bright, wet marks.
The knight raised his sword above his head, one arm wrapped around the woman, accepting the surrounding knights’ cheers.
Valerius’ stomach churned.
He recalled lecturing about knightly spirit, self-restraint, and honor in the classroom; those words now seemed empty and ridiculous.
"They are not knights," Cassian said quietly.
Valerius did not respond; he had no extra words to refute or argue.
Further ahead lay the Empire’s Supreme Court.
The building once was the quietest place in the Imperial Capital.
Only soft conversations were allowed under the dome; between the stone columns echoed the sound of judgment being pronounced by the judges.
Now, stakes stood in the square.
Ropes hung in mid-air, beneath which were bloodstains not yet cleaned. The side hall, once storing archives, was emptied and piled into a small black mountain.
Books and codes were casually thrown together, some already scorched, others still emitting faint smoke.
A soldier squatted by the fire, holding a tattered page in his hand.
Valerius recognized it immediately.
It was a torn page from the Ancient Royal Code, a passage he had quoted countless times before.
The corners of the page curled up, soaked in grease; the soldier wiped his fork with it and tossed it into the fire.
As the flame surged, the writing was consumed.
Valerius stood still, as if something heavy pressed on his chest.
He finally understood something.
Laws were no longer needed here, or rather, only one law remained here.
Valerius did not walk further.
He turned with Cassian into a remote side street.
The stone slabs here were older, walls scraped repeatedly, leaving mottled red stains, like blood dried and then smeared.
His former residence was not hard to find.
Yet when it truly appeared in his sight, Valerius still halted.
The gate had been repainted with an eye-catching, almost flamboyant crimson, adorned with unfamiliar military flags, black-backed with red patterns, the emblem of the 13th Legion swaying slightly in the twilight.
Valerius did not approach, secretly peering over the fence into the yard.
The tree in the garden was gone.
He had planted it with his wife, almost died in its first winter, he had wrapped it in straw ropes himself.
Now, in its original position stood a coarse stake, with a war beast’s reins tied around it, the ground trampled into a quagmire.
Laughter rang from the balcony.
A legion commander with a pugnacious face sat boldly in a deck chair outside the study.
He held an antique wine cup, which Valerius recognized as one of his collections, brought back from the South many years ago.
The wine was poured into a copper bowl on the ground.
A hunting dog lowered its head to lap at it, the wine dripping from its mouth onto the stone slabs.
The commander patted the dog’s neck, laughing as if praising some obedient animal.
Valerius’ gaze slowly shifted away.
"Go." Cassian said just one word, already turning to block him ahead.
They wound through the back alley, lined with trash bins, the smell pungent.
A hunched figure struggled to pull a cart filled with overflowing chamber pots, staggering and almost slipping on icy patches.
Valerius recognized him immediately as his former butler.
Now the old man’s one eye was cloudy and white, eye sockets sunken, wrinkles on his face like deeply carved lines.
"...Master?" the old man rasped, lifting his head.
He paused for a few breaths, then abruptly knelt but didn’t dare clutch Valerius’ clothes.
"What, how, why have you come back..." Before he finished speaking, tears fell into the dirty water.
Valerius helped him lean against the wall to sit down.
The old man’s voice was intermittent, as if afraid of being overheard.
"Master, a month after you left, the Second Prince’s men came. They said this house had good feng shui, fit for raising dogs..."
His voice choked as if blocked by something.
"The lady... the lady took out the legal documents to reason with them." His voice suddenly lowered, "and was immediately..."
The rest wasn’t said, only suppressed sobbing remained.