Under the countless eyes fixed on them, the doors on the second floor slowly opened. But the person who emerged was neither Brando nor his attendants, as the nobles had imagined. Instead, it was an elderly Metz nobleman in aristocratic robes, with graying hair, a face covered in wrinkles and age spots, and a trembling gait. Everyone froze for a moment, because this man was none other than the lord of Fatan City—Baron Ludwig Metz... In the deathly silence, the baron slowly came to the railing and swept his eyes over the crowd with considerable authority. His gaze lingered briefly on Count Orcons and the others before he spoke: "You have come to visit my territory, and you are most welcome. I have also heard about what happened in the south, and I deeply regret it. But why have you gathered at my castle today?"
An oppressive silence fell. The nobles below exchanged glances, wondering how the old fellow, who was supposed to be under house arrest, had suddenly appeared here. Had he been forced to speak? Was the other side trying to use him to drive them away? Such a tactic was truly hateful. The hall below sank into silence, as if someone had thrown a punch into thin air. Everyone wanted to wait for a few leading nobles to speak, but Count Orcons and the other four remained silent. Finally, one hot-tempered noble could not bear it any longer and stepped forward. "Baron, please bring out the Count of Fir Territory from Eluin. We have come for him."
"The head of Eluin's diplomatic mission is my honored guest. Why are you looking for him?" the baron asked.
This is bad. Count Orcons's heart sank. The sense of conspiracy in his mind grew clearer and clearer. He glanced back