The mercenaries in the back row all turned their heads, only to find the drawbridge, their escape route, slowly rising.
"The bridge, look, the bridge is going up."
"We haven't gotten on the bridge yet, we haven't gotten on the bridge."
Some relentless mercenaries tried to leap from the shore to grab the edge of the drawbridge, but most jumped straight into the moat.
Even those who grabbed the edge of the drawbridge became easy targets for the Holy Gunmen.
As the moon gradually sank toward the western plains, the soldiers on the streets either fled or surrendered, stripped of their clothes and escorted to the dungeon.
Dismounting hastily from afar, Horn did not first check on Dane, whose neck was being pressed by the knees of two strong men, but rather on Kosse, lying supine on the ground.
The blood and wounds on his body were covered with linen gauze, but the wounds were almost unable to bleed anymore.
"Your Majesty, the Duke... has he been caught?"
