The morning was thick with tension, a solemn silence draping over the empire as its citizens poured into the main square. Nobles and commoners alike stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces painted with a mix of disbelief, rage, and, for some, grief. For the first time in memory, there were no social distinctions; all were here to witness the disgrace and punishment of those who had once held power and influence in their lives.
Izan stood on a raised platform in front of the grand palace, his figure tall and resolute. His gaze was steely, devoid of pity as he looked over the gathered crowd. The emperor, unable to bear the sight of his wife and son's degradation, had left this grim task to him. Izan had accepted, knowing the empire's faith in justice depended on it.
