Not far from the study hall, Prince Eyrin's servants stood with their heads bowed, unwilling to lift their eyes and witness his punishment.
Yet, they weren't the only ones watching.
Scattered among the gathering were imperial consorts and concubines— who had heard whispers of his fate and, unable to contain their curiosity, had come to see for themselves.
Prince Eyrin lay on the table, his body bound tightly against the wooden surface. His garments were soaked in blood, his limbs trembling from the relentless blows.
An imperial guard raised the plank once more, his grip firm as he brought it down.
"Fifty!" The guard's voice rang through the courtyard.
Without hesitation, he lifted the plank again, ready to strike.
Then, from the distance, the sound of galloping hooves cut through the air.
A mounted guard rode toward them with urgency, his horse skidding to a halt just feet away. He dismounted in one swift motion, his posture rigid as he strode toward the executioner.
