At the end of April, news of Russell's promotion to count and his sword-slaying of the Frost Troll Ge had spread throughout the Shadowflame Grand Duchy.
Whether nobles or commoners, everyone had discussed it countless times.
Yet the public's enthusiasm for the matter remained high. Their relatively isolated lives and lack of proper entertainment meant they did not miss a single scrap of news about Russell, whether it was hearsay or pure fabrication.
The two plays, Riding the Dragon Youth Journey and Thunder from the Dragon Domain, once again became popular productions across the major estates.
As long as a lord invited a troupe to perform, he would receive the heartfelt praise of his subjects.
In estates, market towns, castles, and even grand halls, every little detail about Russell quietly flowed from every corner. Streams converged into a great river, gradually forming a single cry.
From south to north, from bottom to top.
The cry rose ever higher, the fervor surged ever stronger, until even the powerful ministers seated in the Elder Council hall could no longer ignore it.
"Let's discuss it."
Count Merlin leaned back in his chair, his expression calm. No one could read his inner thoughts from his face.
"What is there to discuss? A bunch of serfs shouting a few slogans is just a joke. Are we really putting it on the table for a serious discussion?" Count Oskro, the Chief Judge, said with a gloomy expression.
Ever since Russell had humiliatingly trampled all over him, he had felt off. He always felt that everyone was looking at him strangely.
On the surface, nothing seemed wrong, but perhaps they were all laughing at him behind his back.
Since that thought took root, Count Oskro had not smiled in a long time. He wore the face of