The people of Whisperfield looked up at the man on the platform.
And for the first time since the siege began, their hearts swelled with a strange, fragile hope for a better future.
Then the hope curdled into a very practical question.
'What now?'
It moved through the crowd in whispers and glances. Soldiers who had just knelt traded looks with civilians who had just wept. The kneeling was done. The chanting was done. The dead were walking among the living, and a man in crimson-veined armor stood above them all, and the Elvardian Alliance was still outside the dome with their giant cannons aimed at them.
'We surrendered. He's our sovereign. But the army outside hasn't gone anywhere. The dome is still up. What happens when it comes down?'
A merchant near the western edge of the square tugged at his wife's sleeve. "What about our shop? Do we just… go back to work? Under him?"
"What work?" his wife hissed. "The entire trade district is rubble!"
