The sun climbed high, its warm rays scattering the chill and unveiling a new day for the city.
Pedestrians and laborers bustled through the streets and alleyways.
Street vendors hawked their wares.
The painted boats on the river had quieted down for the day.
Shops in the West Market hung their banners.
A prosperous capital city, a picture of peace and prosperity.
No one knew of the storm brewing beneath the seemingly peaceful surface of the Daqian Capital City.
Once the drama of the succession struggle began, there was no telling how many would be swept up in it, or how many would be caught in the crossfire.
If what the Second Prince said was true, and the behemoth known as the Zheng Clan was truly so pivotal in the eyes of certain people, then it would be difficult for him, Zheng Xiu, to stay out of it.
His repeated imprisonment was proof of this.
It was gradually becoming clearer who was pulling the strings, but this brought Zheng Xiu no optimism.
