When Alan spoke of leaving, everyone understood what that departure meant.
The paladin general in command of the city stared at Alan and asked in a low, heavy voice, "Do you know what you are saying? Leaving—where do you plan to go?"
"I don't know." Alan gazed up at the sky and continued, "Perhaps I'll wander the continent."
"You will bring shame upon your father!" the general said in anger.
Alan smiled. "General, I have served in the military for more than five years. Under the law, I am entitled to an unconditional discharge. Since the law allows it, why would it bring shame upon my father? Or is it that Ryan no longer abides by its own laws?"
The general was at a loss for words, for he knew Alan was playing dumb. The matter required no debate at all.
For a Ryanite, leaving military service was no easy feat, even though Ryan had the most lenient discharge procedures on paper. According to the written military code, any Ryanite who had served five full years could choose an unconditional discharge. Even if their service fell short of that duration, as long as they had a reasonable excuse, approval was typically granted.
Yet very few ever chose to retire. First, soldiering in Ryan offered extraordinarily high pay; second, the societal atmosphere in Ryan was ruthlessly hostile toward anyone who voluntarily sought a discharge.
Almost every soldier discharged for reasons other than injury was branded a deserter and a coward.
Unless you were a veteran who had weathered countless battles, amassed distinguished honors, and grown so old that you could no longer fight, only then could you retire with dignity.
As for so-called legitimate reasons... You claim you need to care for your parents? Do your parents know you are a cowardly deserter? You say you want to return home to marry? Does your fiancée know you are a cowardly deserter?
Regardless of the excuse, voluntarily applying for a discharge was regarded as a tremendous disgrace.
The youth Alan had met earlier, terrified of the battlefield and desperate to go home, had nearly driven his elder brother to slaughter him on the spot, all because the news leaking out would bring shame upon the family.
And now, Alan was choosing to become a deserter.
The reverberations of this act would undoubtedly shake all of Ryan. Alan was the youngest legendary paladin in the empire's history; the empire had only just bestowed that honor upon him, and he turned right around to desert?
All the prestige he had previously garnered would instantly turn into sharp blades pointed back at him. He would not merely be considered a deserter; he would be branded a traitor.
"Alan, I'll pretend I didn't hear what you just said. I'll give you one day to think it over carefully. Once you've made up your mind, come back to me."
Though the general was displeased with Alan's recent conduct, deep down he still valued the young man greatly. Otherwise, he would never have permitted Alan to run off alone to such a remote post to slack off.
With the Silvermoon Knight deceased, the army desperately needed a new idol to steady troop morale.
Alan had been guided by the Silvermoon Knight and had achieved extraordinary feats, making him the ideal candidate. If Alan were to desert, the general feared military morale would collapse and this city might fall.
Alan knew the general meant well, but he had entertained the idea of leaving Ryan for quite some time.
On the night the Silvermoon Knight passed away, he had truly felt the change coming over Ryan—an imperceptible decay cloaked in fanatic faith.
Yet because he hadn't known where to go, he had remained in this city, holding off wave after wave of orc counterattacks for Ryan.
Only just now did Alan realize that he could stay no longer. Even without a clear destination, he had to leave, or he would inevitably be controlled by that rot, powerless to guide his own fate just like the Silvermoon Knight.
Amidst accusations and interrogations, Alan packed his belongings—merely a few changes of clothes. His armor and longsword had to be left behind, as they were military-issue equipment.
In the end, clad in plain cloth garments, Alan walked out of the military encampment looking like a vagrant.
The news would soon spread across Ryan. Alan would become a criminal in the eyes of the entire realm, hated by all. Yet he cared nothing for that; his only slight worry was the burden his father would have to endure.
Yet on second thought, there was no need to worry about him. Just as the Supreme Arbiter had chosen to stand his ground upon learning his son had been kidnapped by a lich, Alan was the same: when the critical moment came, one had to forge ahead in the direction of their own convictions.
By the time James Watson returned to the Ryan Imperial Capital, news of Alan's desertion had already swept through the city. Facing the young emperor's sneering gaze, James Watson said with utter indifference, "Your Majesty, Alan has served for over five years and wishes to be discharged. What is wrong with that?"
The young emperor mocked, "Don't lecture me about the law; it makes me laugh just hearing it. Is this a matter of law? Alan has committed treason! How do you still have the audacity to remain Supreme Arbiter?"
James Watson chuckled softly. "Your Majesty, might you be mistaken? The Supreme Arbiter's sworn duty is precisely to uphold Ryan's laws; my every word and deed must strictly adhere to the law. On the contrary, a perfectly lawful discharge has drawn so much censure and insult. I am currently considering whether to hold those people accountable."
"You certainly have a silver tongue, my Lord Supreme Arbiter. But do you truly believe that rhetoric will satisfy the people of Ryan? Alan is already viewed as a traitor. The entire populace will hunt your son of their own accord. I'd like to see how you intend to do your job as Supreme Arbiter now!"
The young emperor was convinced that James Watson was in deep trouble. For a long time, he had been lectured and scrutinized by the Supreme Arbiter more than once, and now he could finally vent his frustration.
James Watson showed not the slightest concern. Instead, he asked the emperor, "Your Majesty, my troubles are of no consequence. However, in a few days it will be the birthday of His Majesty Arthur, the most important day in Ryan. How does Your Majesty intend to arrange the celebrations?"
Unsure what James Watson was getting at, the young emperor cautiously replied, "You need not concern yourself with that. Everything will proceed as usual, just as it did last year."
James Watson shook his head. "This year is different, Your Majesty. The Silvermoon Knight has only just passed away, the campaign against the Orc Mountains had to be suspended, and the spirits of Ryan's people are unsettled. On such a pivotal occasion, they need reassurance. My recommendation is that Your Majesty bring out the Dragon Tyrant Armament and let the populace behold the might of this realm-guarding artifact. That should soothe their hearts."
"Bring out the Dragon Tyrant Armament?"
A troubled expression crossed the young emperor's face. How could he not want to flaunt that mighty set of artifacts before the masses? Yet he simply couldn't do it.
The sole reason he had ascended to the throne was that he had managed to make the Dragon Tyrant Armament glow from a distance of over ten meters.
Yet that glow had been as faint as a firefly's light. How could he display such an effect? Spectators would only mock and despair. Where would any reassurance come from?
The Dragon Tyrant Armament was ordinarily locked away deep within the imperial palace; not even the emperor could touch it, only communing with it across several iron grates.
The young emperor had never so much as touched it, let alone paraded it outside.
"There is no need to consider this. The Dragon Tyrant Armament is unsuitable. Suggest another way," the young emperor refused.
James Watson countered, "How is it unsuitable? Your Majesty, I am well aware of the imperial family's traditions. Though the resonance between you and the Dragon Tyrant Armament was faint, wasn't that because of the distance? If the Dragon Tyrant Armament were donned upon your very person, perhaps the resonance would become much stronger. Your Majesty, do you truly not wish to wear this artifact?"
The young emperor was tempted by James Watson's words. Who wouldn't want to test the power of an artifact? He had been emperor for several years and had never even laid hands on it... This was the perfect opportunity to try on the Dragon Tyrant Armament. If he truly couldn't wield it, he could simply take it off again. What harm could there be in trying?
"Very well. I will consider the matter. You may withdraw."
Dismissing James Watson, the young emperor rushed excitedly toward the depths of the imperial palace.
After passing through several secret passages, he finally arrived at an expansive hall.
Thirteen elders clad in white-and-gold robes were slumbering there. Each possessed snow-white hair and a face lined with deep wrinkles, and all bore an unmistakable family resemblance.
These were all members of the imperial clan; most of them had even been emperors themselves in their time. However, due to their advanced age, they could only prolong their remaining days by entering deep slumber.
Ryanites were forbidden from using magic potions to extend their lifespans—a rule strictly observed to this day.
These thirteen elders were the true masters of the Ryan imperial clan, and every imperial succession ceremony was handled by them.
When the young emperor arrived, the thirteen elders did not awaken. Instead, attendants helped him deposit a letter, transmitting its contents into the elders' minds via a special magical rite.
If it was an important matter, the thirteen elders would awaken and deliberate together.
If it was trivial, they would merely transmit a psychic response.
For countless years, things had operated in this exact manner.
Sometimes the young emperor thought that these thirteen old men were the true emperors, while he was nothing more than a puppet.
Still, this time, he was determined to test the power of the Dragon Tyrant Armament; otherwise, his reign as emperor would have been in vain.
On the other side of the imperial capital, James Watson returned to the Cardinal Inquisition.
The moment he appeared, everyone in the Inquisition looked at him with strange, searching glances. James Watson paid them no heed and strode into his office.
Seeing James Watson enter, his deputy of many years hurried over and asked, "My Lord, is the news about Alan true? Has he truly committed treason?"
James Watson did not answer the question directly. Instead, he said, "Summon the heads of all departments. I do not wish to repeat myself over and over."
Before long, the directors of every key department of the Cardinal Inquisition gathered in James Watson's office, each eagerly awaiting his response.
"Now that everyone is here, I will say this once. Alan has served for more than five years. According to imperial law, he may retire without cause. Therefore, I do not believe his actions have anything to do with treason. If you wish to call him a coward or a profligate playboy, I do not care. But do not insult the laws of the empire. We administer the law on behalf of the great deities; do not allow your personal sentiments to compromise justice. That is all I have to say. Anyone dissatisfied with this outcome may tender their resignation. The Cardinal Inquisition has no need for fools who disregard the law."
James Watson settled the rumors surrounding Alan in this blunt, heavy-handed manner. In the end, however, a third of the Cardinal Inquisition's personnel chose to resign, including several department directors James Watson had normally held in high regard.
Looking at the resignation letters piled on his desk, James Watson murmured with a soft sigh, "Ryan... has indeed fallen into decay without anyone even realizing it."
Chapter 275