Imperial Calendar September 21, 1453.

Even though he only arrived at the ry Court Barracks the day before, he barely rested and woke up early today.

Hurriedly scooping up a handful of clear water to wash his face, he hadn’t yet approached the venetian blinds when he heard a clamor.

He eagerly opened the window, letting the lively breeze sweep through the stale room.

Flowers in bloom, flags fluttering, flocks of pigeons swirling.

On the ground, the roadsides were crowded with men and women wearing brown-yellow vests and black-and-white skirts.

The Night Watchers used long ropes to form barriers, preventing the civilians from approaching.

On the carriage road paved with large stones, three trumpeters were playing spirited tunes as they moved forward.

Behind them followed a series of open-top carriages, intricately decorated and bearing the emblems of the various counties of the Holy Alliance.

Sitting in the open-top carriages were the representatives of public opinion from each county of the Holy Alliance.

These representatives from the civilian, middle, and affluent classes either sat or stood, waving to the crowd.

Taking a deep breath, Alexei greedily inhaled the aroma of bread, the peat smoke, and the warmth of the sun into his lungs.

Today marks the official commencement of the Central Conference.

Representatives from all over the Holy Alliance will gather at the ry Court Barracks, led by the Saint’s Grandson, to report the results of the past four years with the cardinals and monastery heads.

Meanwhile, the representatives will also supervise and criticize the actions of the cardinals and monastery heads.

This is the agenda for the first day of the Central Conference, which Alexei had already inquired about.

Look, who says the Saint’s Grandson is of peasant origin and relies solely on luck, lacking in capability, and being overshadowed by the Saintess and cardinals?

Just from the mutual checks and balances between representatives of public opinion and local monasteries, one can see the political wisdom.

Alexei was immensely grateful for obtaining a ticket issued to foreign guests by the Holy Alliance, allowing him to witness the core mechanism of the Holy Alliance directly on-site, without relying on newspapers.

"Gloev, Teomir... Wake up, hurry!"

"Hmm?"

Gloev, lying in bed, was directly exposed to the sunlight streaming onto his face.

He lay flat, raising his head sideways, exerting himself to lift the skin on his forehead, yet still unable to open his reddened eyelids.

"Good thing you’re awake too, hurry and wake up the others."

What do you mean by I’m awake, Gloev thought weakly, wasn’t I woken up by you?

Seeing Gloev still in a daze, Alexei shook his shoulders: "Get up, we need to set off early, otherwise we won’t get to the front row."

"Alright, stop shaking, I’m up." Gloev stretched lazily, "Even if we can’t ride a horse to the Half Moon Theater, it’s just a matter of a quarter of an hour."

......

While Alexei and his group were bustling about in the inn, no one noticed a black-clad carriage slowly moving towards the Half Moon Theater, escorted by dozens of Holy Musketeer Knights.

Through the thin black velvet draped over the carriage, only a faint blur of the outside light could be seen.

After peering out the window for a long time, Count Alaric sat back down, respectfully addressing King Jiji: "Your Highness, it seems to be some celebration."

The gaunt Duke Barry glared: "Don’t we have ears? I asked what celebration!"

Alaric retorted: "How would I know? You’ve got eyes too, why don’t you say something?"

"Maybe it’s a beheading celebration." Duke Nava couldn’t help but tremble.

The dim interior of the carriage suddenly fell silent.

Ordinary Earl Knights might still be redeemed by their families, but high-ranking military commanders like them had no such privilege.

Money wouldn’t do.

On the battlefield, they all shouted for glory, but at this "nearly dead" stage, everyone’s heart was still uneasy.

"Stop speculating." King Jiji’s silhouette emerged from the shadows, "Horn wouldn’t kill me, because doing so would only unite the royal family."

While Duke Barry had slimmed a little, King Jiji was nearly skeletal.

It wasn’t because the Holy Alliance abused him; he practiced a two-stage breathing technique, unlike powerful Raffel, so he wasn’t starved.

It’s just that King Jiji’s health was always poor, relying on rare herbs and beast meat for survival, essentially eating his way to the second stage with beast meat.

Not even comparable to a certain Pope.

But once he became a prisoner, the Holy Alliance wouldn’t pamper him.

Eat if you want, otherwise leave, obediently stepping on the spinning machine.

This changed him into his current state, or perhaps, he was originally like this.

Compared to before, even though he was thinner, his mental state and health had improved.

"According to the Holy Alliance’s system, today is supposed to be the quadrennial Central Conference... Hmph, inviting us here is merely to boast of his achievements in front of us."

Ginijis paused: "Just like the ancient El Empire, where they forced captive enemy kings to dance for entertainment during banquets."

Duke Barry and Count Alaric froze, then instinctively exchanged glances.

In the moment of eye contact.

"Look at you, if it weren’t for your battlefield blunder, would we be facing this humiliation today?"

"Are you asking me? At least I fought for His Highness until the end, but you pretended to fall off your horse to save your own life!"

"Back then you..."

Ginijis, sitting in the corner, painfully covered his forehead and eyes, wishing he had three hands to cover his ears as well.

It’s such a petty matter, they’ve been arguing about it for four years, revisiting past grievances for four years, aren’t they tired of it?

Turning away, unwilling to watch the nearly fighting pair, Ginijis gazed gloomily beyond the black cloth.

At this moment, the royal family must be fighting fiercely for the throne, who would still remember him?

......

At a high observation platform built on Half Moon Theater, Duke Labon waved his hand dismissively.

The maid holding sweet rice pudding stared blankly at him, still not understanding.

Not until Duke Labon took out a handkerchief to cover his nose did the young maid understand his meaning.

Hesitating for a while, she dejectedly turned away.

She simply couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t like such fragrant sweet rice pudding.

"Country girl." Duke Labon wiped the sweat off his neck with a handkerchief, this sticky looking food seemed nauseating.

Casani beside him reminded: "Sir, the Holy Alliance doesn’t have dedicated servants, these maids are temporarily hired, it’s best not to cause trouble."

Duke Labon laughed irritably: "Does that mean these maids have a higher status than me? No wine served, is this the Holy Alliance’s hospitality?"

As the consul of the Thousand River Valley Trading Company, just seeing Labon’s arrogant demeanor gave Casani a headache.

These Thousand River Valley People are most spiteful of aristocracy.

Labon came from Falan, ignorant of the circumstances, and portraying such an attitude is practically inviting trouble.

Not to mention anything else, with such behavior, he might end up beaten at night and the Night Watchers could "find no one."

"We’re on someone else’s turf, besides, don’t you want to leave a good impression on His Majesty for this event? Don’t let other issues interfere with the most important matter."

Labon paused for a second, then calmed down.

Though the calm was only superficial, internally he was utterly agitated, constantly rubbing the emerald ring on his thumb.

Damn Holy Alliance, damn Prohibition Order, how dare they ban alcohol!

What nonsense rules! 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Leaning over to survey below, he saw piles and piles of the audience who won entrance tickets, chattering loudly, making Labon’s head throb, demanding several glasses of grape wine to suppress it.

Forcing down nausea and confrontational thoughts, Labon asked Casani beside him: "Are you sure His Highness Ginijis will attend today?"

"Absolutely, that intel was obtained at a very high price." Casani patted his chest in assurance.

Labon nodded: "Then have the spies ready to ensure the escape of His Highness Ginijis, don’t fear exposure.

As long as a fait accompli is created, the Holy Alliance can’t handle us either."

Though thinking it unnecessary for him to say, Casani respectfully nodded and left.

No alternative, Labon is a duke, whereas he is from a small low-grade noble background, yet to achieve his ambitions.

Sipping the Holy Alliance’s specialty coffee, Labon’s tinnitus eased somewhat.

He disdainfully scanned the chaotic Half Moon Theater, then looked to the wooden stage at the center "... daring to use glass craftsmanship as leverage, ants eating elephants!"