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Hopper sighed resignedly, returned to the inner room, retrieved the materials he needed, and said with a hint of temper, "It's six gold coins in total. How do you want to pay?"

Igor didn't care about her attitude. After carefully counting the herbs, he left a bag of silver coins on the counter and turned away.

"Ms. Hopper, won't you count them?" Edim kindly reminded her as he watched her put the bulging bag directly into the drawer.

If I touched the silver, you'd be able to tell right away that something was amiss. Hopper rolled his eyes inwardly, but said in a trembling voice, "Oh, the scorching sun that rises on time, take this bad luck away. Sir Knight, how dare I count it? Can I even find an inquisitor to argue about the money?"

Seeing that she seemed genuinely frightened, Yalong kindly changed the subject: "He bought some uncommon medicines. What is the Cold Heart Potion used for?"

The answer was Knight Edim.

"The Chilling Heart Potion is used to prevent oneself from being controlled by female demons, such as sirens, harpies, lake spirits, and even... succubi and succubi."

Chapter 109 Night Banquet I

Elise Palma pulled at her too-tight collar. Whether it was the jeweled headband, the pure gold necklace hanging down to her waist, or the long linen cape mixed with gold and silver threads, they all made her feel exhausted.

As time passed, she felt more and more that she was old and powerless. In the past, at such banquets, she could flirt with five men at the same time, feast on a whole griffin wing, and then go out to dance until dawn.

But now, she boredly poked at the stewed carrots on her plate with her fork. It felt like her stomach was protesting before she'd even taken two bites. But she had to stick to etiquette and continue sitting there. Chancellor Westerling's banquet had only just begun three hours ago, and there was still a long time to go.

Helplessly, she picked up the glass in front of her and signaled the waiter to refill it with Winter Goddess. This expensive, deep blue wine, meticulously brewed by the indigenous people of the wasteland, offered a refreshing fruity aroma and a lingering coolness that provided a welcome respite from the thronging hall.

As she turned to take the wine glass, she noticed the straight-legged knight against the wall again, and her gloomy mood eased a little. The young knight's armor gleamed in the torchlight and candlelight. He had stood upright under the banner of House Westerling for three full hours. In the stifling heat, clad in heavy armor, his light brown hair was already damp with sweat, and fine beads of sweat trickled down his resolute, sharply defined face.

"Great Lady of Commerce, please have mercy on me. I hope my Jeven can be half as brave and resolute as this handsome knight." She prayed silently in her heart, while calmly admiring the young knight's protruding Adam's apple and broad shoulders.

Since her thoughts drifted to her children, Iris naturally thought of her husband. Lord Palmer sat to her left, stealing glances at the youngest daughter of the Westerling family. Iris didn't care, and even laughed a little at the thought of the medicine the herbalist had given her.

"My dear, what's up?" Mrs. Ward, who was sitting on her right, had obviously noticed her laughter. Then she also noticed the knight and said in a long voice, understandingly, "The little knight of the Sassen family, my dear, you have a very good eye. Many of my maids specially choose to go out shopping when he is on patrol."

Without hesitation, Ellie reached out and pinched Mrs. Ward's waist, and they both burst into giggles. Just then, the servants brought out a roasted leg the size of a calf, sizzling with onions and apples piled on the side. Its massive size and enticing aroma immediately caught the attention of all the important figures at the head table.

"Everyone! This is the first dragon Peter has personally slain!" Lord Westerling stood up. He looked older than his years, yet still strong and muscular. His gray hair and beard were braided in a dwarven style, adorned with more gems than even Lady Elise's hairline. The Speaker raised his golden goblet, and the guests at this end of the hall fell silent as he spoke. "I offer this dragon to you, just as you have offered me your loyalty and gold!"

The cheers almost overturned the hall. Everyone was shouting "Long live Westerling" or "Long live the Speaker", and a few people were shouting that the brave Peter would definitely be as good as his father in the future.

Mrs. Iris winked at Mrs. Ward, who understood and leaned closer. "What dragon hunting? It was just fifty knights stabbing the poor beast to the point of barely breathing, and then he went up to deliver the final blow. Mr. Palmer told me it wasn't a real dragon at all, just a wind dragon beast."

Mrs. Ward quickly picked up her napkin to hide her smile, glancing at Peter Westerling, who was standing nearby. The young man had smooth, gleaming gray hair, bright eyes, and lips as red as roses. Compared to his father, he looked more like a poet than a warrior or a pirate.

"He's still a poet with an ordinary appearance." Mrs. Ward commented in her heart, turning her head to look at the knight standing by the wall. "With little Peter's height, if he could have the appearance of Knight Sassen, I'm afraid all the girls in Emerald Harbor would compete to love him."

"And even if he's not handsome, it would be nice if he could be as upright and strong as Lord Monte." Mrs. Ward turned her gaze to Zevon Monte, who sat upright and serious even at banquets. The Monte family was the de facto ruler of the Shady District. He sat beside the Speaker of the House of Monte, along with several other nobles, seemingly discussing some important topic.

Mrs. Ward showed little interest in the men's conversation. She gestured to the waiter to fork her a small piece of dragon meat and began to savor it. It tasted like a tomato marinated in lemon. She choked a little before finally swallowing it with difficulty, and immediately decided not to touch it again. She touched Iris's arm and whispered, "Who's that man at the end of the table? The one in the white robe?"

Mrs. Palma squinted her eyes and looked at him, her face full of confusion. She said, "You don't know him? He is Archbishop Eichmann."

Mrs. Ward looked at the man not far away in surprise. He was indeed wearing the white vestments common to clergymen, and the golden idols and a dozen various pendants hanging on his body contrasted with his golden hair that was combed sleekly and close to his scalp.

"Archbishop Eichmann is incredibly young for his position," Mrs. Ward lamented. She had expected an archbishop of such power to be, if not senile, at least mature. But Archbishop Eichmann looked robust, in the prime of his life, and clean-shaven.

"Archbishop Eichmann is actually quite old, but it's said that perfect beings grant their followers the gift of perfect human form," Mrs. Palma whispered. However, neither of the two ladies took this claim seriously. For their age, Archbishop Eichmann's appearance was still too mature, a bit far from perfect.

The archbishop seemed to notice the two ladies secretly looking at him. He turned his head and smiled at them, revealing a row of white and neat teeth.

At that moment, the Speaker slammed his hammer on the table. Though the sound wasn't loud, it was enough to startle everyone around him. He seemed to realize his own gaffe and, noticing the glances from everyone around him, he lowered his voice and practically shouted at Lord Monte, "Your price is too high, Monte. I can't meet all your demands. How dare you make such an offer?"

"How dare I?" Zevin Monte's thick eyebrows twisted into a ball of dark clouds. He also lowered his voice and asked back. Although his voice was deliberately lowered, the people around him could still hear his words clearly. "Do I need to remind you of the losses we have suffered? Almost all of my soldiers are injured, and even noble knights were injured in the attack!"

Without waiting for the Speaker's response, he waved to the waiter beside him and ordered, "Go to the end of the hall and find a black-haired knight named Aaron. Bring him here."

The waiter stood there awkwardly, and replied in a low voice: "Sir, there are dozens of knights sitting at the end of the hall..."

"Find the most beautiful female companion!"

Author's words: Two updates today!

Chapter 110: Night Banquet II

Although his back still ached, Knight Aaron was extremely satisfied with today's banquet. Of course, this was mainly due to the charming female companion beside him.

Bringing an herbalist to the feast while wounded, he naturally couldn't enjoy the emerald wine produced near Emerald Harbor as he had in the past. However, compared to the wonderful company of Ms. Hopper, this minor regret was insignificant. Deep down, he even harbored a less manly thought: after being a wild horse for so long, it wouldn't hurt to be bridled once in a while.

For the hundredth time, Knight Aaron glanced at his companion. Miss Hopper usually wore a heavy leather apron and coarse wool cloak, obscuring her brilliance. But today, for the feast, she had donned a tunic and short cape of undyed fine wool. Her tiara was made of wood, not sterling silver; her necklace was polished bronze, not gold; and her pendant was a childish frog. Yet, even these garish attire made all the other ladies around her pale in comparison.

At this moment, the waiters placed a nearly untouched leg of animal flesh on the table. This was a common custom among the nobility: the chief's dignitaries would share their uneaten food with the knights as a token of gratitude for their loyalty. Hopper saw this, cut off a small piece and placed it on Aaron's plate, then smiled and warned, "Please stop staring at me, Knight Aaron. You'll make all the noble ladies laugh at you."

Aaron smiled and nodded, picking up the piece of meat and putting it in his mouth, but his eyes still did not move away from Hopper. He liked Ms. Hopper's pretentious shyness. The subtle tug-of-war and resistance between the two of them made his throat tighten, and even the wound on his back seemed to feel a little numb.

Then his whole face was distorted by the soreness in his legs.

To hide his embarrassment and dispel the horrible taste in his mouth, Aaron took a swig from the goblet of pale ale. When he saw Knight Hervey and Knight Capet at the same table eating the meat, they also showed an expression of disbelief, and he couldn't help laughing again.

"Why isn't Knight Edim here?" Katherine, Knight Capet's sister, swallowed her meat without changing her expression. She then cleverly found a new topic to ease the slightly awkward atmosphere. "I thought the sheriff was invited."

Hopper looked around. The long table they were sitting at the end of the hall was mostly occupied by sheriffs and their families or female companions. She had assumed the sheriff would need to allocate personnel for duty, but judging by the current situation, it seemed that only Edimu was a special case.

"Edim is different from us," replied Knight Hervey. He didn't wear his red-feathered helmet today, but instead had a tuft of red fluff stuck in his buttonhole. "He's been complaining for days about how he's been so busy fulfilling his worldly duties that he hasn't been able to serve the Perfect One wholeheartedly. So, he should be with the Archbishop right now, fulfilling his sacred duty for the Perfect One."

As he spoke, he pointed his thumb in the direction of the chief. Everyone at the table turned their heads in the direction he pointed, and saw a not-so-tall figure standing upright against the wall.

"Torturing himself to show his loyalty?" a sheriff's wife exclaimed in surprise. "He's not a castle guard, so why would he stand there for hours? Wouldn't praying at the shrine in the Old Lighthouse District be just as pious?"

"Perfect people value action over asceticism. Perhaps Knight Edim feels that doing so can better reflect the teachings of perfect people." Hopper took over the conversation and responded, while also noticing the other party's grateful look.

Several sheriffs couldn't help but chuckle at this. It wasn't that they had any complaints against Knight Edim, but in daily life, few people would be so devout.

At that moment, a waiter at the head table met their gaze and walked over quickly, looking around. When she saw Hopper, her eyes suddenly lit up. After noticing Aaron to Hopper's left, he quickly stepped forward and whispered, "Good evening, are you Knight Aaron?"

The knight nodded and politely responded, "I am. What may I do for you?"

The waiter breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Lord Monte is summoning you and your female companion."

In fact, the waiter himself was not sure whether Lord Monte had explicitly requested a female companion to go with him, but he thought that since Lord Monte had specifically mentioned the beauty of Knight Aaron's female companion, it would not be wrong to let the two of them go together.

Aaron stood up immediately without asking a single question. Hopper calmly supported his elbow, helping the wounded knight to stand firmly, and then slowly moved forward with him.

Compared to the lively atmosphere at the end of the hall, where the sheriff was toasting and celebrating, the atmosphere at the chief's side was like a solemn funeral. All the nobles had stopped eating, holding their glasses, pretending to still enjoy the festive atmosphere of the banquet, but in fact, their minds were all focused on the heated argument that had just taken place between the Speaker and Lord Monte.

Lord Monte was clearly getting impatient. As soon as he saw the two approaching, he immediately beckoned Aaron to come closer and said, "Ah, Aaron, you're finally here!"

Hopper released his hand, using the opportunity to bow as a subtle step back, away from the table laden with silver cutlery. This body wouldn't be burned by contact with silver, but both its inner and outer forms were sustained by demonic power, and contact with silver could disrupt that magic. Hopper didn't know how many spellcasters were nearby, but she didn't want to gamble on whether Archbishop Eichmann, seated nearby, would be able to detect any anomaly.

"Knight Aaron, our esteemed Speaker thinks I'm making a big deal out of nothing, believing a sheriff's job is nothing more than helping the village halflings harvest wheat every day." Lord Monte's words were filled with sarcasm, and the expressions of all the nobles at the table changed. "I have no choice but to ask you to come here. Please take off your shirt and show the lords the price we have paid."

Aaron obeyed silently. Because his wounds hadn't fully healed, he was wearing only a thin linen shirt with laces. Before anyone could say anything to stop him, he turned around, his back to the table, and with a powerful tug of his right hand, ripped the shirt completely off.

Knight Aaron was tall and burly, with a masculine build and thick hair, exuding a wild and masculine aura. Several women screamed in shock at his presence, quickly shielding their eyes with their hands, peeking only through the cracks between their fingers. A wound, still unhealed and with its flesh twitching, marred the beauty of his sturdy back, making him appear even more dangerous.

Archbishop Eichmann uttered an audible sigh.

"What a shame." He turned his head to look at his clean hands, as if he couldn't bear to look at the horrific wound. "The perfect man encouraged us to appreciate human health and perfection. Such a healthy body was destroyed by the vicious alien race."

"This is the price we paid!" Lord Monte said this in a stern tone, glaring at the livid-faced Speaker. "Knight Aaron was lucky to receive timely medical treatment. My cousin, Sheriff Edmund, is still lying at home, unable to move!"

"This is real combat, not some unpleasant little fight..." He snorted loudly, "Dragon hunting."

"Lord Monte!" The speaker was the lady sitting on the right side of the Speaker. Judging from her clothes and seat, Hopper knew that she should be Lady Westerling.

Lady Westerling raised her voice, drawing everyone's attention. Her hooked nose and hair, tumbling with excitement, made her look like a hen that had seen a cat. Then, she softened her tone, saying, "Let Knight Aaron get dressed first. There are many ladies here."

Author's Note: The Banquet section was originally planned to be five chapters long, but it seems like it won't be finished. So I'm just going to post two chapters as a thank you for your votes and rewards.

The new volume is a little smoother to write than the previous one. I will try my best to squeeze in more updates.

Thanks again everyone.

Chapter 111 Night Banquet III

Even though Lord Monte was furious at the moment, basic aristocratic etiquette still made him restrain himself. He couldn't just argue with a noble lady in public.

So, when Lady Westerling interrupted, he decisively shut up and simply gestured to Aaron, signaling the knight to put on his clothes. But Hopper could see that Lord Monte was not going to let this matter go easily.

Lady Westerling had clearly noticed, and she knew the temper of the ruler of the Shady District all too well. The so-called rules of nobility were nothing but dispensable things in Lord Monte's eyes. If you tried to deal with him perfunctorily, given his temper, he wouldn't be unlikely to overturn the table on the spot. If that really came to that, the banquet carefully organized for Peter tonight would become a complete laughing stock of the Westerling family.

She sighed inwardly. Even after twenty years of marriage, Lady Westerling still couldn't take a liking to these uncouth northerners. But now was not the time to lament. She quickly composed herself and instructed the waiter, "Go and prepare a table for our valiant Knight Aaron and his companion. Those who have dedicated themselves to Ryadan deserve special treatment."

The Speaker's face sank as he shifted in his seat. Originally, he wouldn't have allowed a low-ranking noble like Knight Aaron to sit near him. However, when it came to seating arrangements, he showed his full trust in his wife, a gesture not only of respect for her status but also of recognition of her abilities.

Lady Westerling didn't disappoint him. Although she promised to treat Knight Yaron with respect, she wouldn't actually let him sit on equal footing with the other nobles. She had the waiters bring a small round table and two armchairs, placing them in a corner a distance from the chief. How could one describe this distance? Well, if Hopper stretched out his hand and made a slight effort, he could touch the upright Knight Edimu, who was standing as a guard.

Hopper helped Aaron sit down, her heart fascinated by this heated debate. Neither the Speaker nor Lord Monte gave up easily, and as a succubus, she was deeply interested in the political drama filled with intrigue and struggle.

"What do you think? Are you disappointed?" Yaron sat down with a smile on his face. He even lowered his voice to make it sound more magnetic. Hopper was stunned for a moment before he realized that he was actually asking what he thought of his figure.

Hopper was suddenly at a loss for words. This knight was like a peacock, always eager to display its feathers. She reached out and pinched Aaron's hand under the table, signaling him to be mindful of the situation. He boldly gave her hand a gentle squeeze. The succubus rolled her eyes in frustration, not wanting to bother with the knight whose mind was preoccupied with love.

Whether he truly didn't understand the importance of seating arrangements, or simply didn't care, Lord Monte simply glanced at Knight Aaron's seat without betraying any disapproval. Lady Westerling caught this signal and nodded to the assembled nobles, confirming that she had fulfilled her duties as hostess.

According to the custom of the nobles, once a topic has been interrupted, there is actually no need to continue. After all, they are not as pressed for time as the lower class, so it is no harm to talk about it next time.

But clearly, there was more than one person breaking the rules tonight. As soon as the Speaker's wife sat down, the man in the dark blue robe at the other end of the table spoke up, "Lord Monte, I understand your emphasis on the sheriffs. We share your sentiments. Otherwise, we wouldn't have agreed to increase the budget at this spring's meeting. But the amount of gold you requested is already enough to arm five more sheriff squads. I honestly don't think there's any need to discuss this further. Alternatively, can you guarantee that this amount will be enough to eliminate all the bandits in Eagle's Nest?"

The speaker had the same hooked nose as Lady Westerling, and pinned to his collar was a sailboat brooch inlaid with giant clams and pearls—the crest of the Mendes family, from which the Speaker's wife came. However, his words were clearly not as pleasing to the Speaker's wife, and Lord Monte's eyebrows instantly rose.

The Speaker's wife covered her face, seemingly giving up on any attempt at mediation. Lord Monte, naturally, would not be polite to the Mendes family. He didn't even bother to look at his opponent, simply clenching the goblet in his hand. His voice was as cold as ice: "Of course it means nothing to you, Vincent Mendes. After all, the orcs won't rush into the Wave District to burn your shop. The money I ask for is certainly not enough to eliminate the Eagle's Nest bandits. No, it's not even enough to maintain the safety of an entire trade route. However, if you or anyone else is unwilling to pay, I can move out of the Shady District, or even leave Riyadan, and let your fleet guard the northern mountains."

Mendes was choked by his words, speechless for a moment. He knew Monte was bluffing. Even if Lord Monte wanted to leave Ryadan, could he really move the entire Monte family? The entire northern shady area of ​​Ryadan, including the farmlands and wineries outside the city, relied on the Monte family for protection. The Monte family only needed to breach their defenses, and the farms and fields of other nobles would be completely plundered. They could even blame everything on a lack of manpower.

Lord Monte's silence didn't slow his attack. He crossed his arms over his chest, his cold gaze sweeping over each noble at the long table. "As I just emphasized to the Speaker, these are not ordinary bandits; they are orcs with a hatred for humans. Just last month, at least ten caravans from the north were plundered, and any humans aboard were targeted. And this morning, I received a count from the maester, and the number of refugees isn't increasing. Priests throughout the Shady District are toiling day and night to prevent the refugees from bringing the plague. Last week, five more halflings from outside the city walls slipped away. If this continues, Eagle's Nest might become more than just a troublesome bandit den; it might become just another city—a city devoid of humans."

"You've stressed this point repeatedly, Monte," the Speaker finally spoke, his voice hinting at the end of the matter. This banquet had completely deviated from his original plan, and he almost wanted to end this unfortunate social event as soon as possible. "I'm making my promise. I will consider increasing the budget and thoroughly explain the possible risks to the members. Is this answer satisfactory to you?"

Lord Monte was obviously dissatisfied, but before he could open his mouth, Archbishop Eichmann spoke first.

Archbishop Eichmann, a man of impressive appearance, spoke in a resonant voice, sounding as respectable as his appearance. He said, "The Perfect One has recognized your contributions to humanity, the extraordinary Monsignor Monte. I am willing to send ten priests to the north wall to assist you tomorrow. While most of them may not yet be able to perform divine miracles, they can still help you comfort the refugees and prevent the plague."

As if fearing another outburst from Lord Monte, a bald nobleman seated at the end of the long table, his velvet coat embroidered with images of seawater and lanterns, quickly interrupted Bishop Eichmann and said, "Lord Monte, the Gonzaga family can promise to work with you at the meeting. However, today is Lord Westerling's banquet, so let's return our attention to the more worthy entertainment of singing, dancing, and delicious food."

Even a stubborn man like Lord Monte knew that this was all he could achieve tonight. He snorted heavily, tacitly accepting the solution of leaving the issue to be discussed at the meeting.

The bald Lord Gonzaga patted his chest with his fat hand and quickly changed the subject. "There's a poet who's become famous in the city lately. I heard Lord Westerling has invited her to the banquet. I wonder if we'd be honored to hear her sing for us?"

Author's words: Let's see what this is, it's a double update

Chapter 112: Night Banquet IV

The waiter moved quickly, quickly adding a high-backed chair not far from the Speaker. Next to it was a small round coffee table with water and snacks on it. This location was right next to the fireplace, allowing the adults to enjoy the musical performance more closely.

When all was ready, a masked poet, clad in a long cloak and holding a lute, gracefully entered the stage. Each step was measured with exquisite precision, the spans almost perfectly aligned. Her deep purple cloak was embroidered with silver thread, and as she moved, the silver thread refracted in the firelight, creating tiny sparks of light, as if someone had cut a section of the starry sky and draped it over her shoulders.

The poet respectfully greeted the distinguished guests with standard aristocratic etiquette. Then, with a crisp strum of her strings, she improvised and sang a ditty based on the Speaker's generosity, his wife's splendor, and the heroic dragon-slaying exploits of Peter, the centerpiece of the banquet. As the song concluded, several nobles, particularly members of House Westerling, cheered loudly.

"Is it Ms. Judith Greenhaven?" Knight Aaron was not familiar with her until he heard her singing. He leaned close to Hopper and whispered, his warm breath blowing against her ear. "I heard her performance at the Hanged Elf Tavern was very unique and attracted a large audience. I didn't expect the Speaker to invite her."

"Perhaps the Speaker wants to hear the songs emanating from the swamp." Hopper knew Judith's purpose for coming. She reached out and gently stroked Knight Aaron's stubbled cheek, as if soothing a restless dog, getting him to sit still.

The Speaker's expression brightened noticeably. This was the banquet atmosphere he had been hoping for—a poet who could offer compliments, a group of subordinates singing his praises, and numerous nobles who obeyed his orders. It wasn't like just now, where he had to brood over unappetizing tasks while eating with the money-hungry Yankee Monte or the stingy fishmonger Mendez, who added seawater to his dishes to save on salt.

Lord Westerling nodded at the poet with an encouraging smile, then turned to Lady Westerling and said, "The poet's voice is exactly like yours in your youth, my lady."

The Speaker's wife touched the brooch on her chest and responded to her husband politely and gently, "Her singing reminds me of the time before little Peter was born, my dear sir. Back then, it was because of my singing that you specially selected this brooch made by the elves as an engagement gift for me."

The Chancellor smiled nostalgically. He grabbed a silver cup, poured it full, and motioned for the waiter to bring it to the poet. He raised the cup aloft and said, "Both the wine and the cup are yours. To your beautiful voice, to House Westerling, and to the beautiful Rhaadan!"

Everyone at the long table, whether they meant it or not, raised their glasses and said in unison, "Cheers to the song, to Westerling, and to the beautiful Rhaadran."

After everyone was seated, the poet tuned the strings of his lute, cleared his throat, and asked, "Respected Speaker, what tune should I perform to live up to your generosity?"

"You don't need to be reserved, poet. Just sing a song that you think is most worthy of our brave little Peter." The Speaker was satisfied with the performance of the nobles at the long table. He leaned back comfortably in his chair and said lazily, looking lovingly at the little Westerling who had been silent all this time.

Judith nodded and played the prelude. The melody sounded familiar. It wasn't until she started singing that Hopper was truly convinced that she was singing the same song he had sung in the tavern.

"'The Triumph of the Parr Army'? How can she sing this?" Aaron became serious. He sat up straight and shifted his gaze from Hopper to the long table.

Hopper followed his gaze and saw a female dwarf sitting on a specially raised chair not far from the Mendes family. As the music progressed, her expression became increasingly grim. Hopper whispered, "What's wrong?"

Aaron turned away and pointed at the female dwarf with a serious expression. "You're new here, so you might not know much about her. That female dwarf is the chief artificer, Lady 'Gold Hand' Tira Hearthheart. She and her family are one of the largest shipbuilding families in Emerald Harbor."

Knowing Hopper wasn't familiar with history or noble matters, the knight explained bluntly, "This song was written during the heyday of the Reminian Dynasty. It celebrates the great feat of the army of the capital, Pearl, defeating Rockfall and incorporating the last piece of land in the south into the Reminian empire."

"Isn't that great?" Hopper asked doubtfully. "It's a perfect way to praise young Mr. Westerling."

The knight looked at Hopper with a sharp gaze and warned, "The problem is that all the residents of Crash Rock are dwarfs. The fire at Crash Rock burned for a month, and all the dwarfs who surrendered were enslaved. Lady Tila's ancestor was Pearl's escaped slave. So, you must never mention this to Lady Tila."

Judith, who was sitting far away at the other end of the hall, was obviously unaware of this. At this moment, the faces of all the guests at the long table became strange, and Dame Tira's face was even gloomy enough to drip water.

"...Burn to ashes, burn to ashes." The poet ended his singing with these lyrics, stood up and bowed to the nobles at the long table. However, the applause did not come out for a long time.