The last rays of the setting sun dyed the clouds along the horizon crimson, gradually drifting away with the sparse breeze.
The courtyards of the High Nobles were situated beside the lake in the inner city.
At this moment, the splendid sunset blended perfectly with the waters of the lake, radiating brilliance. Several deep-drafted commercial flatboats lay motionless at the crowded small docks.
"I would rather trust mercenaries lacking loyalty and discipline than the high-born nobles, who appear devout yet are treacherous."
Commander of Qohor's garrison, Saro Korte, spoke with a mocking tone and careless attitude, which made his servants panic, quickly turning their eyes to survey the surroundings, wary that someone might overhear their master's reckless words.
The High Nobles would surely link the fall of the outer city with his drunken misbehavior at the banquet, raising questions and complaints.
Yet he had to first bow and admit fault to maintain his power. The fate of Qohor could not fall into the hands of the High Nobles.
He forced a smile but found no trace of respect in it.
As he focused on practicing this smile, he did not notice the cold, fearful glances of the loyal servants behind him, flickering with silent resentment.
Outside the courtyard, Saro Korte scrutinized the Unsullied guards around the mansion, then squared his chest and confidently stepped into the courtyard, twelve-foot-high brick walls enclosing him.
Passing through ivy-laden gardens and flowering trees under the golden haze, he saw the marble pool reflecting the sunset and the blood-red glow upon the painted boy statues.
Even the dogs in the backyard kennels had stopped barking.
Inside the courtyard, the handsome and elegant scribe of the council, Aslan McKennen, waited calmly outside the hall.
Seeing Saro Korte approach from afar, he hurried forward to meet him.
With a serious face but considerate tone, he advised:
"My lord, the master and council members are still in shock from the fall of the outer city. They may speak rashly; please forgive them."
Hearing this, a trace of relief softened Saro Korte's cold heart, and he forced a stiff smile:
"Thank you, Aslan. You have always encouraged me. At the banquet, only you tried to prevent me from drinking. I regret not heeding your advice. Without your mediation, the meeting to hold me accountable for dereliction would have already begun."
Aslan, sensing he had not done enough, looked at his friend with apologetic eyes. His clear voice carried warmth that calmed the soul:
"Saro, I'm sorry. Had I prevented you from getting drunk last night, the outer city would not have fallen to the Dothraki. It's my fault for not being resolute enough."
His handsome, pale face showed hesitation and inner conflict.
After a pause, he seemed to make a firm decision:
"In fact, my young master was very dissatisfied when you assumed command and directly removed his authority. The master and council also criticized your order to relieve Qohor's officers of command. The High Council believes this was arbitrary and a major factor in the fall of the outer city."
Blood surged in Saro Korte's head, his face flushed red. Clenching his fists, he stormed toward the council hall in anger.
But he was stopped by Unsullied outside the hall wielding spears. Aslan hurried to mediate:
"Saro, since the fall of the outer city, your authority has been restricted. You cannot enter the meeting directly; you must be inspected here and wait for clearance."
Saro Korte's grievances and anger yearned for release, but under the cold, emotionless eyes and sharp spears of the Unsullied, all vanished.
Pale and powerless, he submitted to the inspection by the slave guards.
"Saro, I am truly sorry," Aslan murmured, feeling deep guilt, then walked alone into the council hall to report.
After a long while, Saro Korte was finally granted permission to attend the meeting.
The hall no longer had white candles, the laughter of women, or lingering scents of perfume—it felt like a different world.
The family heirloom tapestries had vanished without a trace.
"Saro Korte, you pathetic, foolish, blind fool!"
The elderly, short, corpulent, bald courtyard owner was drenched in perfume to mask a repulsive smell of urine.
He trembled as he stood and shouted, launching the first verbal attack.
Saro Korte's heart filled with hatred and anger, but he had to suppress it, forcing a strained smile.
Yet the forced expression and the uncontrollable rage in his eyes irritated the High Nobles further.
They had entrusted city defense power to Saro Korte.
His severe dereliction—not only drunkenly causing the outer city to fall to the enemy but daring to publicly criticize the nobles—outraged them.
"Does the Korte family have any self-respect? Arrogant, greedy, obsessed with power!"
"Yes, his deceased father was punished by the Black Goat for greed and dabbling in sorcery."
"Truly a monstrous family."
Harsh words pierced Saro Korte. His strained smile froze, and in the dim light, his face became a grim mask.
*"You fat, degenerate, faithless worms, all you think about is power and wealth. Call me a foolish, pathetic idiot? Fine. If I were smart, I'd sell you all to the Dothraki. Call me a monster? Yes. I will execute you, these heinous, deserving fools, and then…"
Saro Korte's eyes turned bloodshot, his face twisted into a venomous grin, letting out a desperate roar.
Before he could finish…
"Clang! Clang!"
Chairs toppled, wine glasses, silver plates, and fruits scattered. The High Nobles fell to the ground, their stomachs writhing in intense pain, screams of agony ripping through the hall.
The remaining council members exchanged horrified glances, stood up in shock, and pointed at Saro Korte, screaming hysterically:
"You traitor! How dare you poison us!"
"Guards! Guards! Seize him!"
At the sound of screams, fully armed Unsullied rushed in, surrounding Saro Korte with spears and knocking him to the ground.
He lay powerless, making no resistance, mouth agape, staring in disbelief at the fallen nobles.
"Physician! Call a physician!"
Aslan McKennen, always serious and composed, now looked equally helpless. He stumbled forward, clutching the courtyard owner's body, shouting hoarsely.