The office was deathly silent, save for Barnaby's heavy breathing. The eight guards of the marquis exchanged looks, the ferocity on their faces long since replaced by terror and bewilderment.
Veylin casually set the Nobles' Council document on the desk with a soft tap.
Fifty thousand mu!
The shock in Caroline's eyes quickly gave way to admiration-so this was what he had been waiting for!
He had dared to spar with the marquis's envoy and place his entire fief under threat because he possessed direct authorization from the pinnacle of power in the Royal Capital. This was his true trump card.
Kale was shaken to his core. Fifty thousand mu of land, formally granted as a fief!
Even if it was barren Salt Marsh, that was already the size of a standard barony.
A measure of genuine awe entered his gaze as he looked at Veylin.
Barnaby's face went from white to livid, then from livid to ashen.
He began shrieking incoherently. "Forged! This is absolutely forged! How could the Council issue a direct grant of land to a Pioneer Knight in some godforsaken backwater!"
Before his words had faded, a resounding dragon roar tore through the sky.
The majestic roar pierced the walls, leaving everyone's ears ringing.
Every glass vessel in the room trembled, and violent ripples spread across the surface of Caroline's cup of black tea.
The light outside the window abruptly dimmed. An enormous shadow that blotted out the sky fell over the entire room.
Everyone's expression changed drastically. Even the Windwhisper Albatross on the windowsill fluffed up its feathers in fright.
"It's... it's a wyvern!"
One guard had seen the scene outside through the window, and his voice trembled with fear.
Veylin raised his eyebrows, somewhat surprised himself.
Then heavy, muffled footsteps sounded from downstairs, each