The black sun hangs high

Chapter 270 Despair Square
Today, the driver responsible for Muller's ride was a different face. He was somewhat silent and didn't say anything except when Muller got into the car.

He drove Muller through the still somewhat chaotic streets and through the intersections guarded by mages and the royal guard.

The city of Mooregrave today is completely different from what it used to be.

"Morghive" means "snow-white stone castle" in Old Northern Territory, and has been used ever since.

As the capital of the Kingdom of Saint Steel, this vast city may not be able to match the construction standards of Borden, the capital of the Kingdom of Water, but its cold climate and the unique architectural style of the North add a lot of unique charm to this ancient city.

In the past, those wide, white streets paved with long stone bricks always gave people a sense of solemnity and grandeur, but now, Müller felt that everything in front of him had become cramped and narrow.

Although the end of winter had arrived, those who dared to walk on the streets were mostly women who had come out to buy daily necessities for their families. They all wrapped their heads with hoods and scarves, keeping their eyes fixed on the ground, afraid of angering the menacing royal guards. Even so, the monks who patrolled back and forth would still stop one or two people from time to time to question them.

There were still bloodstains on the road that had not been cleaned up, and it was unclear whether they came from protesting citizens or an injured guard.

The vehicle drove over the marks, and after turning the corner, Muller saw the all-too-familiar towering spire.

The palaces of the St. Steel royal family also used pointed roof structures, but the roofs of houses in the North were not as sharp as those in the Kingdom of Water. Influenced by a series of factors such as culture, history, and weather, these buildings were often designed to be more layered, and under those pointed roofs, some more rounded and softer structures were used.

Muller pursed his lips and quietly examined the spires.

He saw wisps of smoke rising in the sky and clouds behind the spire, indicating that something was on fire somewhere around Morgrif. However, the fire seemed to be relatively small. The faint, sharp gunshots suggested that the smoke was likely coming from some residents or miners who were clashing with the royal guards.

The carriage then took him around to the side of the enormous palace and stopped on a street guarded by many soldiers.

“We’ve arrived, Mr. Muller.”

The driver stopped the car, said something in a low voice, and then opened the car door for Muller. At this moment, the ambassador of the Kingdom of Walter finally had a chance to look at the driver—a middle-aged man who looked ordinary, wearing a heavy St. Steel overcoat, his clothes and hat were somewhat worn and had two patches on them.

Muller glanced cautiously at the middle-aged man, and seeing that the man was just smiling gently at him, he grabbed his hat and coat and climbed out of the car.

He was also very familiar with this route. Guests who normally visit the royal family or participate in royal activities usually enter from the side entrance of the palace square, and that has always been the case.

But Muller hadn't taken two steps when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around in surprise and saw that the ordinary driver from before had caught up with him. In his right hand, there was a long metal cane with some intricate patterns on it, but Muller couldn't see them clearly.

The middle-aged man walked up to Müller, his face still bearing a friendly and gentle smile, but his body was now ramrod straight, and the sense of humility he once possessed had vanished.

Muller, of course, was perceptive. He glanced at the other man in surprise, then asked, "You're not the driver, are you?"

The middle-aged man slowed his pace, walking alongside Muller as he said with a smile, "Ah, it really was just a spur-of-the-moment thing, Mr. Muller. How did you know that?"

“Sir, the government and royal family of Saint Steel would not allow their drivers to have patches on their clothes, nor would they allow their drivers to carry a cane when they go out. Isn’t that obvious?”

"Haha, you're right."

The middle-aged man's cane tapped lightly on the cold stone pavement, each tap producing a peculiar, crisp sound, like a metal coin falling to the ground. He then said, "Like you, I am a guest attending the 'Flame of Life' ceremony. Hearing that I would have the opportunity to speak with the ambassador of the Kingdom of Wotel, I took the liberty of acting as your driver. My driving skills are not very proficient, are you satisfied?"

Hearing these obviously strange words, Muller's right hand had already reached down to his waist. Hidden on the side of his belt was a new type of pocket revolver, equipped with high-powered bullets specially made by the Highland Council and the Walter Royal Workshop, which could provide some assistance in special circumstances.

"Don't be nervous, Mr. Muller. I really just want to have a chat with you. After all, there are very few people like you who hold a high-ranking position and know both kingdoms well."

As if reading Muller's mind, the middle-aged man glanced at Muller and introduced himself: "My name is Novy, and I'm just an ordinary magic consultant. I'm currently working with Mage Yetvich on some magical issues. Does that put you at ease?"

Muller's mind raced for a moment. He placed his hand on his hip and then politely asked, "In that case, what would Consultant Novy like to know from me?"

"I want to know, what is the attitude towards Saint Steel within the Kingdom of Water?"

Novie paused, then added, "What I mean is, how exactly do Princess Sofia, who dominates the military, and the Ernst family view their northern allies?"

Muller frowned. "Advisor Novi, you are a scholar who studies magical issues. Why do you need to know these things? Besides, I am just an envoy. I'm afraid I can't give you many of the answers you want to hear regarding these questions."

"Oh?"

Novie wasn't particularly angry about Muller's clear refusal. He awkwardly touched his sparsely bearded chin, his already small eyes narrowing even more. This only made Muller feel more uneasy.

However, Novi did not press the matter further. He chuckled dryly and then continued, "Well... as a scholar who studies magic, I sometimes get curious about the situation between nations. You see, in such a short time, the war that should have continued has inexplicably shown signs of stopping. The Voltel still occupies a large portion of the Goddess Plains territory, but the Delan have accepted that ceasefire agreement... Heh heh, while Saint Steel, who was willing to continue the war and had the status of an ally of the Highlands, is now the isolated party. How interesting."

“Advisor Novi, everyone can see the crisis brewing in Vanne. When there is a conflict of interest between nations, they should give way in the face of a greater crisis. Don’t you understand this principle?” “I understand, I understand.”

Upon hearing Muller's words, Novie replied in a low voice. He then handed his cane to his left hand and suddenly grabbed Muller's elbow with his right. In that instant, Ambassador Muller felt a chilling current flow rapidly from where the other man was gripping him, spreading throughout his body in the blink of an eye, but bypassing his brain.

Under the influence of this force, Muller was horrified to find that his ability to control his body was rapidly declining. His right hand, which had been resting on his waist, ready to draw his weapon at any moment, involuntarily dropped to his side. He tried to stand up and call out to the guards beside him, but he couldn't open his mouth at all and couldn't make a sound.

His body seemed to be taken over by a force, and he continued to walk forward stiffly.

"Over here, over here... watch your step, the stone bricks over there are protruding."

Novie very "thoughtfully" led the way, and then Mueller heard him say, "Mr. Mueller, it's normal that you don't want to say more. After all, you are still a loyal and responsible Wottle official. But soon we will help you remove that constraint, and then you can tell us everything you know."

Then he heard Novy say, “There’s still time before the ceremony begins, so you might as well be my audience… The main reason I invited you and so many others here today is that I hope you can all become important witnesses to this ceremony, and at the same time, I hope you can sincerely join us and become witnesses to a new era and a new world.”

Upon hearing this, Muller immediately realized what was happening. His expression became somewhat distorted, and a hint of anger even appeared in his eyes.

"Ah, you guessed right. The last 'Flame of Life' ceremony of the old era was organized by my Black Sun Society... From this day forward, from this Saint Steel, the Black Sun Society will gradually tear away the veil of ignorance, and the true gods worthy of worship, as well as the truth deliberately hidden by the false gods, will reappear in Van'en."

As he spoke slowly, he led the stiff Ambassador Müller to their destination. There, Müller saw the Royal Square, which had already been decorated, the Eternal Flame of Life, which had been moved to the center of the square and was contained in a magical crystal container, and many "spectators" who looked terrified but could only sit quietly on the square seats.

There were many familiar faces among them: officials from Saint Steel, mages and scholars, famous writers, and several chamber of commerce leaders...

Muller even spotted a fat figure, the ambassador of the Kingdom of Hein to Saint-St., who was shivering in a chair.

Novi led Muller to sit down in an empty chair, then beckoned to a mage in a circular robe, who immediately came over respectfully and took over Novi's work. This so-called magical advisor then slowly walked toward the huge circular platform where the Flame of Life was placed.

After ascending the platform, Novie snapped his fingers lightly, and the linguistic constraints imposed on the spectators immediately vanished. Instantly, a cacophony of insults, questions, and defenses filled the square.

Novi clearly didn't care much about the chaotic noise. He coughed heavily twice, and then a figure emerged from behind the vessel of the Flame of Life.

He was an elderly monk with a gloomy expression.

Or rather, he was a deep-sea level mage, as well as the high priest and messenger of the Church of the God of Life—Yetevich.

The head of the Black Sun Society stepped forward enthusiastically, opened his arms, and gave the deep-sea level mage a big hug: "Dear Yetvich, I heard you didn't have a good night? Were you hit in the face with shoes by those foolish false god followers?"

In that instant, the square fell silent.

For these "observers"—of different races, from different countries and regions, and holding various important positions in the upper echelons of Saint Steel's society—the betrayal and fall of a deep-sea mage was the final blow to their souls.

Immediately afterwards, Müller heard an extremely loud plea.

It was a short goblin, whom Muller recognized. He was one of the main leaders of the Saint Steel Merchant Guild, whose guild had always played an extremely important role in the trade among the highland nations.

"Please, spare me! I'm not a follower of any god... I... please let me join... I'm willing to join the Black Sun Society! Just please let me go!"

Goblins are always like this; once they start begging for mercy, they burst into tears, and their already unsightly appearance becomes even more unbearable to look at. Their huge ears droop down, making them look like a stray dog ​​that has been kicked twice in the street.

Upon hearing this sound, Novi's face immediately lit up with joy. He patted the mage Yetvich on the shoulder and then pointed his staff in the direction of the goblin.

The aged deep-sea mage sighed, stepped down from the platform, and slowly walked towards the goblin merchant.

"Your Excellency Yetvich, please let me go! We are willing to support the restoration of the Cedar Scholars' Tower complex forever!"

The goblin merchant had completely lost his mind; he was shouting at the top of his lungs, but his body was as stiff as a statue.

The deep-sea level mage stood before the goblin, and the gloomy look on his aged face gradually faded.

Then, the terrified people heard the voice of the old sorcerer: "Joining the Black Sun Society means that you will forever abandon all your past beliefs, you will lose your race, your nationality, and all your past identities. From this moment on, you will only have two identities."

"First, you will become a believer in the true God until death."

"Second, you will become the enemy of all false gods and their followers, forever."

(End of this chapter)