Two days later they executed the king.
Right in the royal capital, in the central square, is the square where the king commends and canonizes nobles and superior slaves.
They smashed all the statues and executed the king in front of him. King Andri's eldest son also signed the abdication resolution in the palace.
This victory is undoubtedly an unprecedented success.
However, not everyone is basking in joy.
The man fell ill.
Myron's dagger before he died pierced his calf, and he fainted at that time. When he woke up, he was told that he had been taken back by the cavalry.
The military doctor had to announce a sad news to the man.
Although the rescue was timely, the poison had penetrated deep into the bone marrow, and Ailan would not survive for more than a month because of the governor of the city-state.
It didn't take long for the man to develop a fever. In the first few days, he could still patrol the military camp and discuss the next attack with everyone in the main tent. But later, the hot forehead made him realize that he was really walking on the road to death. On the road.
"Withdraw, we must withdraw. We have executed the king, which is considered a complete success." Cassel's words could not be explained, "The consul must be brought back to recuperate."
In the main tent, the man wanted to dismiss it, but the pain of fever overwhelmed his mind. He opened his mouth slightly, unable to express his objection.
In this way, the city-state army, along with the slaves who had been liberated in the royal capital, began to break out of camp and return to Alambiin.
Cassel even sent several letters, asking the city-state to immediately prepare a group of doctors with superb medical skills.
They traveled through wind and rain and returned to the city-state of Alambiin faster than when they came.
Men were sent to the rear of the city-state.
Under careful care, the fever improved after a few days, but the man's leg stabbed by the dagger became increasingly black, bruised, and gradually necrotic. The doctors initially followed the instructions in the medical book and tied the calf with a rope, but It still couldn't stop the poison from getting deeper and deeper, and the pain was so painful that the man fainted every day before he could fall asleep.
The doctors were at their wits' end, and a few days later, someone boldly proposed to cut off the necrotic leg.
This was a folk remedy that was not included in medical books, and was rejected by everyone as soon as it was proposed.
However, the man was so tortured that he was forced to give orders as a consul.
"Cut off this bad leg."
"Consul, that is a folk remedy that I have never seen before." The doctor said in surprise and panic.
"But I have to get through it and hold on for a while." The man's voice left no room for doubt.
In the end, the man's leg was amputated. The operation went smoothly and the bleeding was stopped smoothly. The doctor who was so surprised that he made the suggestion knelt on the ground after the operation and thanked the Lord for his grace.
But the man still had a vague premonition that death was getting closer and closer to him. Cutting off the leg only slowed down its pace.
After the operation, a high fever inevitably occurred. After a quiet rest and careful care, the man endured it with a strong will. He did not dare to let himself fall asleep completely every night, but only dared to maintain a light sleep.
After the high fever, because the injured calf had been amputated, the man gradually no longer felt so painful. The premonition of death was still strong, but the man began to become more awake day by day.
This is not a tendency to get better, but a reflection before death, a gentle sigh.
Relying on this sobriety, the man made arrangements for his funeral.
"Kassel." On the hospital bed, the man picked up his quill and signed a legal document.
Cassell tried hard to stop the sadness in his eyes as he sat beside the hospital bed.
The man grasped the quill vigorously, wrote his name intermittently on the linen paper, and handed it firmly to Cassell's hand.
"From now on, you are the new Archon," the man said.
Cassel took the linen paper with both hands, put it on his thigh, clenched one hand, and couldn't help but press his eye sockets.
The man closed his eyes silently.
He is dying.
"Cassell, go ahead and bring this legal provision to others to read out." The man spoke slowly, "Let me stay for a while."
Cassel opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say, and silently put away the legal provisions.
"Lord, I believe you will recover." Cassell said before closing the door. He really couldn't say anything else.
"I hope so." The man said, leaning on the pillow.
Knowing that his death is imminent, the man does not feel fear, but feels indescribable peace. He has never been so calm in his life.
The sun shines through the window and falls in front of the hospital bed. The rest are just shadows. There are potted plants in the ward, which is quiet and peaceful.
The man opened his eyes, turned his face, and stared at the sunlight falling into the ward.
The candlestick is placed on his left hand side.
The beast in his chest was so weak that it stood up and tensed in a way that no medicine could relieve.
"Maybe I should go out." He has been staying in the ward these days.
"No, not maybe." The man said to himself, "I should go out and walk alone."
I don't know what kind of mood he was in. Perhaps he wanted to see what happened to the city-state of Aylan Biyin again. The man moved over and put his only remaining leg on the ground.
As soon as he stood up, the man almost fell.
"I almost forgot that I broke a leg." The man laughed bitterly at himself.
He took the candlestick, tied it around his waist, and picked up the crutch beside the bed. It was placed here by the servants for the convenience of helping the man go out and bask in the sun.
This man who once crossed the desert alone now had to use a cane.
The man carefully opened the door and looked around the corridor.
It's like stealing bread when you were a child and observing it beforehand.
There was no one in the corridor, and the man breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned on the crutch with one hand, bent down, and walked on tiptoe.
Along the way, the man dodged the cleaning servants and scurried behind the pillars until he came to the utility room and climbed over the window with great reluctance. Fortunately, he did not make any noise.
The man's feet hit the grass.
"It's the same as hiding in XZ before." The man's taste was slightly nostalgic, and he knew that he had not completely lost his talent for stealing.
The man leaned on crutches and walked step by step away from the mansion where he was resting and headed towards the street.
This is the rear of the city-state of Alambiin, and it is also the town he came to after walking out of the desert.
He once led the depressed soldiers in the tavern to march and shout on the streets.
Although this memory is not far away, the man can't help but feel a little sad.
At this time, the church bells rang solemnly, echoing in the air.
It seemed to be a memorial service. The man came back to his senses and carefully identified how many times it had been knocked, and realized that the church seemed to be commemorating a deceased person.
"Let's go to the tavern and have a look." The man said softly.
He thought of the tavern owner who lost his son, and the soldiers who surrounded him.
The man is leaning on a cane, a candlestick swinging at his waist.
He walked onto the street like this. It was afternoon, a time when everyone was drowsy, and the street was a little deserted, with not many pedestrians.
Some people glanced at the man on crutches without paying much attention. Not everyone had seen the Archon.
The man followed his memory and walked slowly towards the tavern.
But there are still people who have only seen the Archon once and are deeply impressed and irreplaceable.
As the man walked past a longhouse, a woman was sitting on a bench holding a baby. Someone blocked the sunlight, so she looked up.
"Yeah!" the woman screamed slightly.
The man looked back.
"Consul, consul? Your Majesty..." the woman said in disbelief.
The man recognized her.
He didn't expect to see the woman who asked him to name him here.
The man made a "shh" gesture and smiled at the woman.
The woman was a little nervous and nodded. Then she saw the consul's empty trousers and said hurriedly: "Consul, I heard that you are sick, very sick..."
"It's not that serious, I'm fine."
After the man finished speaking, he looked at the baby in the woman's arms.
"What a cute kid."
"Yes, you remember me...he is a boy." The woman was a little incoherent.
"Remember," the man nodded slightly, staring at the child's thin eyelids that were gently closed, his bubble-like mouth, and his smooth skin, "Does he have a name?"
"Yeah, we have it," the woman laughed when she talked about the child. She looked at the baby in her arms and said softly, "It's called Naiboshier. His grandmother got it."
"Nabohir, what a good name." The man paused and slowly said the meaning, "A gift from the Lord."
Then, the man made a gesture to indicate that it was time to leave.
The woman nodded nervously.
The man turned around, leaned on crutches, and walked toward the tavern step by step.
Coming out of the street corner, a boy of seven or eight years old stared at the man with missing legs from a distance.
The boy's eyes fell on the shaking candlestick, and his hands felt a little itchy.
He is a well-known bad boy in this town.
With the mentality of getting a trophy, the boy followed secretly.
