"Your Majesty, the road to the palace has been cleared. This city is yours!"
Iron Axe said excitedly as he knelt in front of Roland.
The battle lasted from yesterday to early this morning. After breaking through the city gate, the First Army only spent four hours to achieve their two main objectives: the palace in the inner city and the cathedral in the Eastern District. The next step was to eliminate the enemy and completely extinguish Timothy's resistance.
Roland looked around and found that everyone was equally excited. Whether it was the soldiers of the First Army or the witches, they were all in high spirits. If he had not expressed his position, they would have cheered for him. After Timothy was overthrown, he had become the real King of Graycastle in their hearts, even without the coronation ceremony.
However, his mood was unexpectedly calm.
This "magnificent capital" that represented the center of Graycastle did not resonate with him, nor did he feel like he had returned to his homeland. In Roland's eyes, this was just an ordinary city, not even as important as Longsong Stronghold. The only significance was that... the farce of the Order for the Selection of the Crown Prince had finally come to an end, and he could run his territory with peace of mind.
Of course, a victory was still a victory, especially such a hearty one. He believed that the news of the new king's city would soon spread throughout the kingdom, and his prestige and fame would rise to a new level, which would be beneficial for recruiting talents and promoting the reform. So far, the spring offensive plan, which had been prepared for more than four months, had been mostly completed. Now, only the south was left... Roland could not help but look in the direction of Fallen Dragon Ridge and the farther Southernmost Region. That was the place he really needed to conquer.
He took a deep breath, interrupted his thoughts, and said loudly, "Let's go to the city!"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Iron Axe stood up respectfully and ordered the soldiers who had been waiting for a long time. "Two columns, protect your new king. Let's go!"
The soldiers raised their weapons and shouted, "Long live King Wimbledon!"
"Long live His Majesty!"
Amid the cheers of the First Army, Roland got off the warship and set off for the palace.
...
After passing through the city gate, the streets were deserted, and there was almost no one in sight. There were still traces of a great battle on the ground, and the closer one was to the palace, the more it was so.
Damaged houses, uncleared roadblocks, broken limbs, and bloodstains could be seen everywhere in the inner city. There was no doubt that although the process of seizing the palace was short, it was still the most intense battle the First Army had experienced since its establishment.
Looking at the ruins on both sides of the street, Roland could not help but feel a little distressed. The exact number of casualties had not yet been calculated, but the corpses of the First Army soldiers that had been transported to the rear had already exceeded 20, and this was the result of Nana's timely rescue. Without the little girl's help, this number would at least triple.
Stepping into the palace area, the soldiers stationed here all knelt down on one knee. The road leading to the palace was lined with two neat rows of kneeling soldiers. This was a rare sight in the First Army, where military salutes were commonplace. Roland did not say anything to stop them. From their excited expressions, he could tell that these people were not here to welcome him as a member of the army, but to salute the new King as a citizen of Graycastle.
Passing through the lush green garden, the scene in his memory instantly overlapped with everything around him. Three bluestone buildings were arranged in a triangular shape around the flowing water garden, forming the territory where the Wimbledon family had lived for generations. On the left was the Hall of Sky, which was used for holding banquets and ceremonies, but now it had been destroyed by a bomb, leaving only dozens of thick stone pillars standing tall. On the right was the City Hall and the library, which were currently under the care of the First Army.
In the middle was the most magnificent Holy Temple of the Twin Towers. Its structure was similar to the high-rise buildings of later generations. At the bottom was an oval three-story podium, which was larger than the castle area of Border Town. On each side of the podium was a raised tower, the top of which was built in the shape of a crown, and the other was shaped like a crown, symbolizing the supreme authority of the royal family of Graycastle. In the middle of the two towers were two crossed iron chains, which represented the pattern of the twin spears on the family emblem. Whether in terms of shape or design concept, it was an outstanding work that could be passed down for hundreds of generations.
Following the guidance of the fragments in his mind, Roland climbed more than a hundred curved stairs step by step and walked into the Holy Temple. It was a very strange experience. Obviously, it was his first time here, but he knew every room and every corridor. In the hall, in addition to the guards with guns, there was also a group of frightened nobles. When they saw Roland, they all knelt down and greeted him respectfully in unison.
"Get up."
Without hesitation, Roland sat on the throne and looked down at the crowd.
Among these nobles, he saw several familiar figures.
For example, Minister of Finance Lauren Moore, Minister of Foreign Affairs Brint Ferlin, Minister of Justice Pillow, Director of Intelligence Marshall, Prime Minister Marquis Wyke, and so on.
These people were all courtiers who had served Wimbledon III, and some of their family backgrounds could even be traced back to the founding of the Wimbledon family. When Timothy Wimbledon succeeded the throne, all these people turned to the new king. Now, they obviously intended to continue to follow the tradition and pledge their loyalty to him.
Unfortunately, he did not need them.
This was not a court discussion, but a trial.
"Timothy Wimbledon is suspected of murdering Prince Gerald, conspiring to rebel, and colluding with the church. He is now in custody and must be severely punished. Soon, his crimes will spread throughout the city and even the kingdom. What do you want to say? "
"These crimes are unforgivable. I tried to dissuade him, but to no avail," Marquis Wyke was the first to speak. "You have overturned the dark cloud over Graycastle, Your Majesty."
The rest of the nobles echoed.
"Really?" Roland asked with a sneer. "When he committed these heinous crimes, did you stand by and watch, or did you help him? Don't tell me that you're done just by moving your mouth. "
"This..." The Marquis frowned. "You may not know this, but after Timothy took the throne, he promoted a large number of trusted people, such as Laurie, Si Carr, and Sir Morris. Whether it was the Knight Regiment or the expeditionary army, we could not control them."
"Yes, Your Majesty, please understand."
"When he sent Prince Gerald to the guillotine, he even bypassed the court," Pillow coughed and complained. "The executioner was also a member of the Knight Regiment. I could not stop him."
"... So what happened in the past year has nothing to do with you, right?" Roland's evaluation of these ministers dropped a few points. They were not so much the king's assistants, but more like a group of interests with their own agendas. They were cancer attached to the royal family. Perhaps when Graycastle was founded, the noble ministers were indeed the king's right-hand men, but after hundreds of years, they had become completely rigid and degenerate. "In that case, let's play a game."
"Play... a game?" Everyone looked surprised.
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