Chapter 691: The dog(2)
The average reaction time to an unexpected event is 0.8 seconds.
Two full seconds had passed since the soldier’s body hit the stone floor, his lifeblood spreading in a slow, deliberate pool beneath him, thick, dark, and final.
Yet not a single man moved.
Chairs creaked under the weight of frozen bodies. Fingers clutched goblets in mid-air. Mouths hung slightly open, caught between breath and scream. The lords of the realm, seasoned generals, schemers, and self-styled warlords, all turned to stone by a silence that now screamed louder than any trumpet.
Then came the sound of boots.
Measured. Rhythmic. Not a charge, but a procession. The unmistakable cadence of men who knew exactly what they were doing.
Through the yawning mouth of the great hall’s entrance, they marched in, first in pairs, then in rows. Legionnaires. Dozens. Maybe more.
They wore black and white stripes across their breastplates, revealing to all their allegiance. Their armor wasn’t clean, but smeared with blood. Helmets with narrow eye slits made them look more beast than man.
Their movements were smooth, mechanical, with no hesitation. Shields drawn close to their sides, blades already unsheathed and held low, glinting like fangs.
They spread along the flanks of the hall, filing in with silent precision, an iron noose tightening slowly around the high table.
There was no shouting. No demands.Nothing.
Just the sound of metal and leather and the rising stench of blood from the entryway.