The elite retinues of the Knight Lords crowded outside the great hall, while hundreds of the Knight Lords themselves filed in one after another.
In the audience hall, surrounded by clear mirrors and cold armor, fully armored Yonglan Knights stood on floor tiles that reflected light like crystal. Their hands, beneath their capes, either gripped the hilts of their swords or smoothed the hems of their garments as they quietly awaited an audience with the new Knight King.
To be standing here meant they acknowledged Westheid's status as the Knight King. Or rather, they had been beaten into submission and had no choice but to acknowledge it.
Even the Knight Lords, accustomed to being free and undisciplined, maintained a solemn silence during the audience.
CLACK CLACK CLACK—
