Watching the people emerge one after another from the dim light at the edge of the candlelight, Tumen gently raised his snow-white eyebrows. The first people he noticed were the Cruzian nobles at the front. Although these dukes were disheveled, their expensive clothes were tattered and covered in grime, and their manner could still be considered proper. Even after weathering such a crisis, they remained relatively composed.
Behind them came soldiers and refugees. Many had fled East Metz. They looked exhausted and miserable, shrinking back as though they had yet to recover from their fright.
Last came the Fanzans. The knights of the Silver Horse Knight Order walked with steady steps, following closely behind their Knight Commander without saying a word.
At least these descendants of Gilt hadn't abandoned their compatriots. They had retained the last bit of their courage. The old man thought this as he watched them.
As he sized up the guests he had ordered Mordefis and Andriga to bring, they were sizing him up at the same time.
He was a fairly typical Min'er person—
Although the Silver Queen had once claimed to have received the support of the Min'er People, it had later been proven that this was merely a deceptive ploy used by the Dragon Queen and the others to manipulate people's hearts.
At most, they had been Senians—former vassals of the Min'er People. They had suffered persecution in this era and therefore felt a deep nostalgia for the age that had come before.
After the last Min'er clan retreated into the Great Glacier after the Year of Radiant Gold, the people of the world had in fact never seen these "Ancients" again. It was as though they had vanished from the world—at least on the surface.
Yet the white-bearded, white-browed old man standing