Half an hour later, the visitors from afar walked out of the little tavern.
The man in his thirties who had ordered their food glanced back at Loki and the others, who were now dead drunk inside the tavern. Frowning slightly, he approached the middle-aged guest at the head of the group and said quietly, "My lord Marquis, talking to these ignorant, low-class commoners is really a waste of time. I think we should go straight to Grand Duke Drake and ask about the matters that concern you. That would be much easier than this."
The middle-aged guest turned to glance at him and smiled faintly. "Ignorant? My dear Seymour, have you forgotten that they just called you a country bumpkin?"
Seymour stiffened, then snapped angrily, "Bah! Those lowborn wretches dared to call us country bumpkins! If this were our Malo Empire, I would make them pay for those words immediately!"
The middle-aged guest shook his head and sighed. "Seymour, your father sent you along with me to broaden your horizons and temper your character. If you insist on keeping this attitude, I can only have someone send you straight home."
Seymour was stunned. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to argue, but ultimately lowered his head in dejection.
"Yes, my lord Marquis. You were right to reprimand me. I know I was wrong."
The middle-aged guest glanced back at the little tavern they had just left, narrowed his eyes, and let out a deeply reflective sigh.
"They are commoners, certainly, but when it comes to ignorance, at least where magic machinery is concerned, we know far less than they do. If we hadn't happened to learn about magic machinery in the Falk Kingdom this time, we would probably still know nothing about it. And the more I