Chapter 309: Extremely Arrogant

Old man Gaffney was sixty-three years old this year, having worked the profession of sweeping the Crown Square for more than twenty-eight years.

He carried his broom leaving the house when the sky was still pitch black every morning, because according to custom the square must be spotlessly clean before the first bell tolled. He just dragged his feet arriving at the head of the square today then halted.

The trash in the square today looked truly bizarre. They did not lie scattered like usual but were arranged into perfectly straight lines, looking from afar like some kind of pattern.

Gaffney emboldened himself, raising the hurricane lamp in his hand looking carefully. He panicked after finishing looking. On the ground was not any trash at all, but a pile of hair.

Hair covered the stone surface completely forming thick streaks, having all kinds of colors. They did not lie messily disorganized as if blown arriving by the wind, but were arranged extremely neatly, lock by lock, neat to the point people had the feeling someone had sat throughout the night displaying them out, arranging them into the current shape.

The hair lines were as tall as a person’s head, stretching from the foot of the Royal Palace steps all the way to the fountain in the middle of the square. In this dark circumstance, they looked eerily bizarre like some kind of dark sorcery charm.

Gaffney stood blankly looking for a moment, his mind empty, ultimately throwing away even his broom running backward toward the guard post, both running and screaming calling the soldiers.

Before long, the entire soldiers in the city ran arriving. They raised their weapons high in their hands, surrounding the square. Under the flickering bright torchlight, the on-duty officer carrying a pale gray complexion looked carefully at the pattern lines on the stone ground.

"Captain, it seems... is it writing?"

A knight standing beside the officer suddenly spoke. The Captain of the Royal Capital guard squad immediately rode his horse, piercing through the soldier crowd walking over. From his angle, the writing strokes on the ground appeared completely clearly.

[Tax tax my beep! Daring to keep eyeing Lyra, I will shave off your bottom hair too!]

After this captain read out loud this text line, everyone present there all froze their faces. Lyra? Was that not exactly the famous city recently? The city categorized into Heresy by the Church of Light, will be proceeded to be conquered in early spring this year right?

Because of this matter His Majesty the Emperor and His Holiness the Pope had to be busy throughout several months, even the guard soldiers in the Royal Capital like them were arranged to be sent out to the frontline.

The captain’s facial expression gradually became unsightly. He angrily scolded:

"Hmph! An arrogant bunch! Daring to arrive even at the Royal Capital to show off military might indeed!"

"Men!" The captain drew his sword out, shouting loudly: "Blockade all pathways in the city completely, do not let a single ant escape! Order people to clean this entire messy pile away for me!"

The soldiers immediately obeyed the order, spreading out everywhere in the city. For a time, the atmosphere in the Royal Capital became extremely tense. The people inside the city sleeping soundly were roused up for people to search their houses. The people exiting the city and entering the city trading early were also gathered into one spot, completely no one was allowed to go anywhere when not yet having an order.

Everyone bewilderedly put their heads together, softly discussing.

The mixed hair pile on the ground was also herded into one spot by the soldiers, brought outside the city to burn. The scorching burnt smell rose up heavily, exactly like roasting a sheep with intact wool.

Half an hour later, when the first dawn sunlight ray just dawned, a series of frantic screaming sounds transmitted arriving from all directions in the Royal Capital.

Count Aldric Thorne was awakened by this screaming sound like a dying pig.

"Early this morning what plague kind is screaming noisily like that huh?!"

Thorne angrily scolded. He raised his hand to his head rubbing his hair according to habit, but his hand touched a completely smooth patch. Thorne was stunned, then used both hands to grope around. Nothing, completely nothing!

Thorne sprang up jumping out of bed, relying on the faint light piercing through the window, looking at himself in the full-body mirror that he secretly ordered people to bring back from Lyra city.

Inside the mirror was a sixty-year-old old man with a bald head, bald to the point of shining brightly, not missing a single silk thread.

Thorne was stunned and raised his hand touching all over his scalp once. Not painful. Not stinging. Not a single scratch. Completely not looking like being shaved, but looking like they automatically invited each other to fall down. He immediately searched on the bed, flipping both blankets and pillows up but still did not see his hair anywhere.

While Thorne stuck his buttocks up searching for his hair under the bed, outside the hallway echoed thunderous running footsteps, then the panicked butler’s voice knocking on the door.

"Lord! Lord! A huge matter has happened already!"

Thorne hurriedly grabbed a hooded cloak, draping it onto his body then finally walked out opening the door. Striking into his face was a pile of shiny heads. Not only the butler, but his two secretaries along with the entire servants and soldiers inside the manor, all had shiny heads to the point of being unable to be shinier.

Thorne’s complexion darkened, his mind spinning. Right at this moment, a maid carrying an also shiny head ran over, panickedly saying:

"Lord Count, it is bad already! Young Miss, the Young Miss she..."

Thorne immediately pushed the crowd aside, urgently running to his daughter’s room. His sixteen-year-old daughter currently in her most beautiful age did not know where she found a rope, currently preparing to hang herself committing suicide because of feeling humiliated.

Seeing her father arrive, the little girl immediately burst into tears "hu hu", rushing forcefully into Thorne’s chest. Thorne’s cloak hood under this pushing force was also knocked flying off, the chaotic atmosphere temporarily seemed to be frozen. The crying complaining words of the daughter were also stuck back in her throat.

Her face was distorted, looking at Thorne speechlessly:

"Father... you also..."

Having the same plight as the Count’s family, in the entire Royal Capital, a total of three hundred and sixteen people woke up with a completely bald head. The Royal Council, the entire leading officials of the three Boards of Religious Affairs, Land, and Commercial Affairs. The Archive House’s people, the official keeping the treasury along with four assistants. His Majesty the Emperor, the princes, princesses, the Queen and the concubines,...

Even the core members inside the Temple of Light in the Royal Capital including His Holiness the Pope also did not escape the fate.

And one more person, lying in a cramped inn in the East alley, named Harlan Voss. This pitiful Baron not only was taken cleanly the hair on his head but also was taken completely the mustache that he pampered throughout twenty years. That morning he sat crying bitterly in the inn room exactly like a wrongly beaten child.

The guard squad Captain only at this moment clearly realized the seriousness of the matter, hurriedly galloping his horse into the Royal Palace, reporting about the hair-written text line that he read early in the morning.

The morning of that same day, the meeting of the Royal Council and the core Archbishops of the Church of Light immediately took place. As for the Pope, he did not dare to stick his face out the door, even the sacrificial ceremony sessions were also canceled.

Everyone stepped into the meeting room together, every single person wore a hat. Some people wore felt hats, some people wore fur hats, some figures even wrapped entirely a silk scarf onto their heads following the style of Southern merchants. According to etiquette then inside the Council’s meeting room absolutely no one was allowed to wear a hat, but that day absolutely no one dared to open their mouth mentioning that regulation.

The meeting began with the sound of slamming the table.

"This is a blatant provocative act aiming straight at the Royal Family!" An old duke yelled, his hand still tightly keeping the hat on his head: "Must immediately deploy troops! Thirty thousand troops! Level that city!"

"I agree! They dare to humiliate both the Royal Family and the Church!"

"Must behead that person claiming himself Holy Son hanging it onto the city gate!"

The noisy sound lasted nearly half an hour. His Majesty the Emperor sat properly at the highest position, silently looking at the core figures in the political apparatus of the Royal Capital screaming to the point of turning their faces entirely purple.

Only when the room began to quiet down, did he finally intertwine his two hands together, placing his chin onto them:

"I want to ask among you all here, does anyone know when Lyra’s people sneaked into the city, and how they managed to take cleanly the hair of several hundred people in one night without anyone discovering?"

The angry words were immediately stuck back in their throats.

His Majesty the Emperor looked at the empty spot beside himself, then looked toward the Cardinal Archbishops of the Church with profound eyes. The Archbishops immediately lowered their faces to the ground, unable to say any words.

Even the Pope considered being closest to the Deities still did not know how his hair evaporated, then how could the mortal-fleshed people like them possibly know.

And when facing an eerie enemy like that, who dared to hold swords arriving to level them?

However, being like this was also too humiliating!