Warsaw, Polish Lithuanian Kingdom
In front of the elderly man, a group of people had knelt down with both knees touching the ground, crying bitterly, their faces filled with remorse.
"We have lost, your Highness, we have truly lost the kingdom."
"His Highness Alexander has been captured as well, my king; the hateful Bharatiyas have already imprisoned him."
"It's all the fault of the Borisov family, my liege; they are the very ones who betrayed the kingdom and captured His Highness, Alexander. They deserve to be stripped naked in public and then beheaded with a sickle."
The voices, one after another, showcased a plethora of emotions ranging from deep sadness, anger, and fury to utter desperation, but the old man, his eyes clouded and unfocused, had almost no reaction at all. The only real proof that the man was even paying attention was in his slightly trembling hands, his faintly quivering lips, and his eyes, which, although showing no movement, had slowly begun to moisten.
