Huh? Are they all real?...

The three people in the room all looked over at the same time.

The governor was even more furious and said:

"Who let her in? I didn't say that."

Before the governor could finish speaking, he was rendered speechless, like a duck whose neck had been grabbed.

Because the visitor, protected by his personal guards, pushed open the door and took off his coat and hood.

Her pale purple dress, distinctly Southern in style, was revealed.

“My name is Elmeran Westeros. Princess of the South, daughter of Trajan, governor of Grasse. I will give you one more chance.”

Ai Er looked intently into the other person's wide eyes and said:

Tell me, which side are you choosing?

Bang.

A loud gunshot rang out in the room.

The body responded before the will.

Looking at the still-smoking revolver in his hand and the messenger lying on the ground, his life hanging in the balance.

Governor Grasse, finally regaining his senses, stood at attention and saluted:

"Your Highness, all 173,421 soldiers and officers of Grass are now yours!"

The other person's reaction was somewhat unexpected, but she quickly recovered and said to them:

"very good."

She rushed here to let Moen know that she was not a vase like the Queen who could only wait for her teacher to save her.

She wanted to help Moen, and now it seems she has indeed made a difference.

It's incredibly useful!!!

Taking advantage of the moment when his personal guards came in to take the messenger away.

The governor hurriedly said to them:

"Never mind him for now. Go to my bedroom. I have a whole trunk of iris banners under my bed. Take them out and hang them on the city wall right away."

Upon hearing this, both El and the Vice-Speaker looked at the Governor in astonishment.

The governor chuckled awkwardly.

"Well, I... I've actually long been on the side of the Grand Duke, no, I've actually long admired His Majesty the Emperor!"

"Your Highness, don't let my appearance fool you. I... I am actually a loyal subject!"

Aier gave him a deep look.

This guy has something.

-

When the pale purple iris banners were hung on the walls of Grasse.

The Lloydman army below erupted in an uproar.

Even serf soldiers who couldn't write their own names knew what the iris flag represented.

That's Trajan's banner!

Has Tula truly won?!

The fear fermented instantly and then spread at a terrifying speed.

"Retreat, retreat!"

The leaders of each principality were desperately urging their soldiers to leave.

It took almost just a few minutes; Harlow didn't even have time to react.

Of the hundreds of thousands of troops around him, only the men he brought with him remained.

After looking around blankly, he...

Haro looked towards the top of the city walls of Grass in despair.

Is this really the end?!

Do not!

There's another way!

As long as you attack directly, your soldiers will follow, and then the rest of the troops will turn back.

In this way, Lloydman can still be saved!

The ambition that had once strived to ascend to the position of angel slowly revived in Harrow's chest.

Moreover, he is a Leuman, and he should fight for Leuman!

Driven by this belief, Harlow's body moved forward involuntarily.

The soldiers behind him slowly followed.

It's getting closer, closer and closer.

Charge in! Charge in!

Harlow's eyes were blazing with fury; he was about to make his move.

And at this crucial moment.

Hello suddenly stopped.

Because he saw a man appear on the walls of Grasse.

She was a woman, a very beautiful woman, but that doesn't matter.

Most importantly, Harrow knows her.

Hermelin Westeros, daughter of Trajan.

She's here?!

Seeing the Haro of Aier immediately reminded me of that grassland.

After a moment of twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Harrow lowered his head, turned and left.

Lloyd's country was thus destroyed.

-

In the capital of Baratheon.

For the first time, the major newspapers, which had been operating at full capacity, met their financial backer.

Watching the nobles enter the newspaper printing plant under the enthusiastic greetings of the editor-in-chief.

Many workers stopped instinctively.

This greatly displeased some of the supervisors, and some even raised their whips at the lowly workers.

But just as he was about to strike, his hand was grabbed.

Turning back in annoyance, the foreman's anger instantly transformed into fear and obsequiousness.

Because the one who stopped him was a nobleman.

After glaring fiercely at the overseer, the nobleman nodded and smiled amiably at the stunned worker.

Finally, he led his men into the factory manager's room.

While wiping sweat from his brow amidst a pile of ink, he finalized today's newspaper headline:

"Grand Prince Trajan is approaching the capital!"

Oh, I forgot to mention, of today's 9,000-word update, 3,000 was a bonus chapter for the patron. I should have written it a few days ago, but I wasn't feeling well, so I prioritized the regular update. Then today, since I'm feeling better, I added another 3,000 words as a bonus chapter for the patron. And thank you to Spiral Universe for the patron's donation!

Chapter 147 His Majesty has arrived today in his loyal Baratheon (5k)

The news that the Lewman Empire had split back into the northern kingdoms spread almost immediately throughout Baratheon.

Countless people are constantly talking about this.

All of this happened too quickly and was too unexpected.

Moreover, this signifies the most crucial thing – Trajan seems poised to win everything.

When people realized this, many nobles quietly left Baratheon.

Even the fiefdoms that nobles have always regarded as their lifeblood are now being abandoned.

After packing his things, he secretly left.

The gloom of twenty years ago still feels like yesterday.

The rest of the ordinary people were vividly recounting the legends and benevolence of Emperor Trajan to the young children.

Everyone felt that new hope was about to descend upon the country.

-

Meanwhile, the capital of Baratheon was completely plunged into a state of immense oppression.

Especially in the audience hall at this moment.

The emperor had lost count of how many times he had fallen into a rage.

"Hello, hello! Damn hello!!!"

"I gave him everything!"

"How could he do this? How could he do this!"

"How could he be scared away by a woman and a tattered flag!"

"Isn't he an angel? Doesn't he have the level zero sealing artifact I specially found? Is his head full of straw?!"

"Aaaaaah! That damned Hello!"

Now, this is no longer a simple defeat for the North; it can almost be said that its very foundation has been completely severed.

The condition for glorification is that three angels of glory each lead a powerful empire and fight against each other, and only the final victor can ascend to godhood.

Then, he no longer had an empire.

He once had the power to usurp Baratheon's position and take word games to the extreme.

He could also directly restore his identity as Lewman I, backed by the reunited Lewman Empire.

Now, Baratheon can no longer acknowledge him, and the Lloydman clan has split apart once again!

He's all alone now!

But the emperor had not yet completely fallen into madness.

Because he himself is still alive, the ultimate ideal state is still in his hands.

And most importantly, Prince Adela has finally arrived.

In the audience hall, Prince Adela's appearance delighted the emperor beyond words:

"Your Highness, Your Highness, you've finally arrived! So, where is that thing?"

Beside the emperor, the nobles also eagerly awaited his arrival.

Given their current situation, they have no choice but to follow the Emperor down this dark path.

Therefore, Prince Adela, whom the emperor had been eagerly anticipating, also became their savior.

They simply didn't know what the Emperor was hoping for.

Amidst the anticipation of countless people, Prince Adela silently took out a very small double-headed sword from behind him.

This double-headed sword exudes a mysterious and cold aura.

The blade has smooth lines, like a nimble silver snake. Its material seems to be made of some rare metal, shimmering with a faint, cold light under the illumination.