Ashen Dragon-Chapter 356 - 280: Luton Diary

Chapter 356: Chapter 280: Luton Diary

However, the people’s fury had not subsided. A single marquis’ head could not satisfy their long-suppressed emotions. The revelry continued, and the rage kept pouring out.

The crowd cheered and shouted.

“Execution! Execution!”

The commoners were completely inflamed!

Those once untouchable, high-ranking important figures, now their fates were in the hands of the people—at least, so it seemed.

“Dwayne Sharaf, convicted of premeditated murder, inciting war, robbery…”

...

“Flory Carson, sentenced to…”

“Giovanni Wald, sentenced to death…”

One familiar “noble” name after another was read aloud by the Tiefling who replaced Mezulash.

Nobles were dragged to the guillotine one by one, and each time the blade severed flesh, a cheer erupted from the crowd.

Even the wooden platform had been stained red, with a slow-flowing river of blood trickling down, spreading to the people’s feet.

Viscount Luton was being held by Tiefling Guards in the prisoner ranks, shivering all over.

“Gods…”

“How could this happen?”

“Do they intend to kill all the Northern Nobility?”

Viscount Luton trembled as he watched an elderly noble being placed on the guillotine up on the platform, his face turned pale.

He knew that noble; it was Earl Yasjin Garrett, a famous general of the Boske Duchy, practically his uncle.

The once formidable Earl Yasjin, who earned the respect of the nobles on the battlefield and from horseback, had been praised by Luton in a fervent celebratory poem—”General’s Triumphal Song.”

But at this moment, this former general now awaited death like a lamb to the slaughter.

“Click!”

With a crisp sound, the sharp blade fell again.

Viscount Luton instinctively shrunk his neck, as if it was his own head being severed.

Suddenly, he felt something warm splatter onto his neck.

He instinctively touched it with his hand.

It was blood.

Fresh, warm blood.

But it was far from over.

“Gloop, gloop…”

The bloodied head rolled down from the platform, stopping not far in front of Viscount Luton, those desperate, unclosed eyes staring straight at him.

“L-Lord Akins…”

Viscount Luton screamed in terror; he felt a wave of nausea rise in his throat, nearly retching.

“Urgh…”

But just as he tried to bend over, a Tiefling Guard behind him rudely grabbed him, locking his hands tightly, forcing him to straighten up.

“What are you trying to do?”

“Don’t even think about pulling any tricks!”

“Execution! Execution!” the voices roared again, shaking the sky.

The cheers of the crowd, the shouts of the guards, and the sound of the guillotine falling intertwined, echoing around Luton.

Viscount Luton felt the world spinning, his ears buzzing, piercing tinnitus followed by a deafening silence, and before his eyes, the world turned blood red.

Those fervent, cheering people seemed like demons from The Abyss.

“Mad, mad…”

“They’ve all gone mad.”

Viscount Luton’s face was pale, his eyes hollow and lifeless, cold sweat dripping from his forehead, and his lips trembling slightly.

Scenes flashed through his mind like a moving lantern; grand banquets, orderly marching troops, elegant dances, exquisitely bound books…

That was the life he was meant to have.

The North was not supposed to be like this; it should’ve been a paradise for nobles like him.

What had become of this world?

How dared these people rebel?

Why had the once subservient commoners all gone mad?

“This world… is beyond saving…”

In his last moment of consciousness, Viscount Luton thought so.

The Tiefling Guards’ discussions began.

“He fainted from fear!”

“No surprise from Northern cowards!”

“Ha, I’ve seen plenty of nobles like this. The last one was even worse, scared stiff into a fool.”

“Tsk, such a bunch of trash.”

…

“This is like a dream!”

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“Never thought the lives of those noble lords could be decided by us.”

“They, they actually compensated me! I got three gold coins!”

“I finally avenged my wife and daughter…”

As they left the crowded grounds, people buzzed with conversation, their thin faces still alight with excitement.

The public trial lasted from morning till evening, conducted in order of rank from highest to lowest.

The capital, once the pride of the Northern Nobility, had now become their death warrant.

These high-ranking nobles, to various degrees, had all oppressed the common people, or perhaps it was just habit for them. They never truly regarded the commoners as “people” on an equal footing.

When people’s fury was ignited, severe retribution naturally followed.

In one day, twenty-seven nobles lost their heads. The most prominent and most fervently discussed was Marquis Hollen, while the lowest ranked was still an Earl of the Boske Duchy.

The massive fortunes they had claimed were moved out of their residences, large portions of which were distributed to the victims.

The kingdom’s divide-and-rule strategy had succeeded.

This was an open conspiracy.

An open conspiracy to divide commoners and nobles.

After this public trial, those who participated and benefited were now firmly tied to the Ashen Kingdom’s chariot of war.

After all, their hands were now stained with the blood of Northern Nobility. Should the Northern Nobility ever regain power, the commoners would face the most brutal and bloody retribution.

Therefore, the people had no choice but to accept the kingdom’s rule passively.

And the rule of the evil dragons didn’t seem as brutal as the rumors—at least not for the commoners.

Aside from the nobles who were executed, some lower-ranked nobles, including Viscount Luton, escaped death.

They were temporarily imprisoned in the former Boske Duchy prison, waiting for their judgment.

…

“November 3rd, 1785 of the Third Era… I will never forget this unforgettable day.”

“On that day, it felt like my entire world turned blood red.”

“I had never seen so many esteemed important figures die before my eyes. One day prior, they were my respected elders and esteemed mentors, but after that day, they had all become cold, headless corpses.”

“This was not so-called ‘judgment,’ but a brutal, savage massacre aimed at the Northern Nobility. The evil dragons and their kingdom shamefully incited our people, stirred their emotions—turning them into true demons.”

——”Diary of Luton Siege”