Morning sunlight slanted across the sea, casting a layer of silver radiance over its surface.
Whenever the ship cut through the waves, the radiance trembled slightly, as if the sea were breathing.
The chill carried by the sea breeze could not be dispelled even beneath the sunlight.
On the second floor of this sizable merchant ship bound for Lilom City, the wooden furniture and fittings were both exquisite and cozy. Viscount Francis sat at the dining table, a brocade tablecloth spread before him and silverware laid out in a neat row.
The middle-aged man wore a dark gray suit embroidered with his family crest in gold thread. Though his eyes showed some weariness, his meticulous attire still lent him a dignified elegance, while his slender fingers revealed traces of a past spent wielding a sword.
He gently speared a piece of smoked salmon and placed it in his mouth, unconsciously keeping his brows slightly furrowed as he chewed.
However, it was not because the chef had performed poorly today.
"Alas, I'm afraid the imperial capital will be difficult to deal with this year."
He sighed inwardly but did not say it aloud.
The Protos Empire had seventeen provinces.
Lilom City lay in the most remote part of the already impoverished Southwest Province. If not for its location along the sea, it would have almost become a fortified city-state in the middle of a forest.
Now, the Protos Empire was in an extremely dangerous state of tension with the various nations led by the Aetherland Kingdom on the empire's Northwest Side. A full-scale war on the Northern Continent could break out at any moment, needing only a spark to ignite this century-spanning conflagration.
Although for cities in their southern rear area, the flames of war would not likely spread this far,