The wind was tinged with the smell of gunpowder. Flames seemed to linger in the sky, while the torn clouds scattered across the heavens like burning tufts of cotton. An ominous golden light seeped from behind the clouds and spread in all directions.
Tulamann's silver hair glittered beneath the sunlight. He smiled faintly. "They never intended to hide it from the beginning. But you know how wizards are. It's a bad habit of theirs—they love word games, clever tricks, and taking pleasure in them."
"Because it makes them seem far more intelligent than ordinary people. Unfortunately, no one wants to be the fool, so I'm in a particularly bad mood right now."
"Don't worry. You can go give them all the trouble you like. William and I will back you up. To be honest, Darus had a far worse temper than you did back then. In that respect, you're still far behind your grandfather, Brando."
Brando remained unmoved. "Lord Tulamann, what role did the Buga people play in the matter of His Majesty the Emperor and the Dragon's Sword back then? And what exactly are you planning to do?"
His light-brown eyes reflected the silver sails. The Floating Fleet moved endlessly through the air harbor like fish swimming through the sky. At least on one point, the Cruzian harbor officials had judged correctly—the Rune Port truly could not bear this enormous fleet. It was easy to imagine that the port would struggle to recover its former appearance for a long time after the war.
But that was a problem for the locals to worry about. At least for now, even Count Orcons himself had no mind to consider it.
Tulamann fell silent for a moment.
"Your guess is correct," he replied. "It's a long story. The wizards did not play