While D.D. was cheerfully arranging the gossip of the nobles in the Royal Capital, his terrible luck came into play once again.
"Guard Officer Doyle."
Marius's voice rang out at just the right moment from behind, interrupting Tales's thoughts:
"What's so funny?"
Doyle's expression stiffened, but by the time he turned around to face the Oath Keeper, D.D. had already put on a serious and proper expression again:
"Nothing, sir."
"His Highness asked, so I was explaining some of the nobles' social customs to him."
Marius glanced at Mrs. Eleanor, who had disappeared into the banquet hall, then looked thoughtfully at Tales:
"Is that so?"
Tales banished Little Iron Thorn's retreating figure from his mind and gave a dry laugh:
"Something like that."
Behind him, Doyle nodded solemnly, while Gollor remained expressionless.
Marius gave a soft scoff, as calm as ever:
"Very well. Are you ready, then?"
In the distance, a middle-aged noble with a heavily powdered face led his wife out of a carriage. After signing in at the hall entrance, he beamed as he had his attendants present a gift, straightened his clothes, and approached Tales under the guidance of the staff.
"Of course." Tales sighed and put on a radiant smile again.
But Marius shook his head and pointed at D.D.:
"No, not you, Your Highness. I mean... him."
With his back to the hall entrance, Doyle stared blankly:
"Me? Why?"
Just then, a heart-wrenching cry exploded out of nowhere!
"Ahhhhhh! Your Highness, Your Highness, His Highness Tales!"
Tales shuddered all over, almost thinking that a vengeful ghost had come to claim his life.
Servants, soldiers, guards, and the lesser guests at the side entrance were all drawn by the cry. Startled, they hurriedly turned around.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, a middle-aged noble with a shiny, fleshy