In May, warm breezes brushed across the sea.
At Far-Sail Port, a large crowd waited quietly on the docks.
At their head stood the lord of Tatshaw Territory.
Beside him stood Nick and Fafier, both equally splendidly dressed.
The appearance of all three together drew quite a bit of attention. After all, the simultaneous appearance of Tatshaw Territory's three leading figures was truly rare.
Since the scholar Lurun had retired, the only true high-level administrators in Tatshaw Territory had been Romon and the two men at his side.
The others—Haiwavi, Sukar, and even Lurun's grandson Debiru—could only be considered major figures under Romon's command, not members of the core.
"Romon, what sort of person is this archbishop?" Fafier asked suddenly, turning his head as the sea breeze blew over him.
"Fafier, how vulgar of you," Nick said with a laugh from beside him.
"You're the vulgar one. Even if she's temporarily taking refuge because of the Feisi Kingdom's civil war, that doesn't mean she has to come to our territory." At those words, Fafier immediately raised his brows and fired back.
"Both of you, shut up first!" Romon, standing between them, sighed helplessly, a trace of regret rising in his heart.
If he had known, he would have kept his mouth shut and not revealed all these matters during some moment of careless excitement.
At first, he had found it rather amusing. Later, all he felt was helplessness and frustration.
Being brought up so frequently like this, anyone would grow irritated after hearing it for too long.
"All right, stop arguing. There are so many people behind us; it won't look good if they overhear." Finally unable to endure it any longer, Romon warned in a low voice, "No matter why she came, she is at least an archbishop of