The Great Hammer Decree struck like a mountain crashing down upon the court, sending a chill down everyone's spine.
How many years had it been since His Majesty last invoked this punishment?
Only because August was the emperor's favorite did he get off with just fifty strokes—anyone else would've lost their head.
Yet fifty strokes were enough to break a man.
The executioners were Golden-armored Warriors, elite guards who'd fought countless battles at the emperor's side.
Their training was brutal beyond measure, making their strikes far deadlier than any common soldier's.
With August's soft noble's body, he'd likely meet his maker before twenty lashes landed.
Andy's lips curled—this was the end. August wouldn't survive this.
His pulse hammered; his fingers twitched.
At this moment,
