Siegfried

At Iver's words, the Cardinal Bishops in the room showed a variety of expressions.

Some looked shocked, some fell into thought, some seemed hesitant to speak, and some furrowed their brows deeply.

The first to speak and smooth things over was the host of this place, Cyril Cardinal.

"—As expected of someone recognized by Pope Your Majesty and the Candle Holder. Even I never imagined that you would truly pass Lord of Scales and Feathers' trial in just one week."

This old Cardinal, half transformed into a tree and half condensed into amber, had protected Iver seemingly without effort in just two sentences.

As the leader of the Market Supervisors faction, Cyril Cardinal evidently still commanded some respect.

And his moderate, conservative nature meant that he always leaned toward dissolving conflicts before they took shape. Bringing up Iver's background before any argument could break out would clearly help people remain more patient.

Obviously, his words had been effective.

The middle-aged elf with short, curly brown hair and deeply furrowed brows glanced back at Cyril Cardinal, but ultimately chose silence.

Iver could clearly sense the completely undisguised hostility coming from him—a desire without the slightest trace of impurity, hostility as clear and scorching as intoxicating strong liquor.

So Iver turned back and asked him directly, without the slightest hesitation, "May I ask... what should I call you?"

"Belisarius."

The other man replied with extreme brevity.

He wore the sort of white robe Parthians usually favored, with only the left side of his chest exposed. His entire left breast was transparent, like a carefully carved diamond. Through that "diamond shell," one could even clearly see his white-jade-like ribs and the heart beating powerfully within his body.

Iver thought for a moment and realized that he truly did not remember this Cardinal Bishop.