Night shrouded Baron Harold's manor.
Unlike the Doyle Family's Oak Manor, which catered to every need, this manor resembled the former Kemail Manor. Everything spread outward from a central main building, with an exquisitely decorated square, a fountain, and carriage paths. The carriage parking area beside the square and the nearby stables occupied a particularly large stretch of land, enough to accommodate twenty carriages.
And now?
The open ground was overgrown with weeds.
The blazing splendor and bustling voices of old had dwindled to a single oil lamp and utter silence.
But the next instant, that silence was broken-
Whoosh!
A fierce wind came howling through the air.
Immediately, two men rushed out of the main building.
The middle-aged man held a longsword and a flintlock.
The elderly man carried a walking stick. Unlike the decorative sticks others carried, his truly supported his body.
The middle-aged man was Titon, the steward of Harold Manor, the son of its former steward, and the only person Baron Harold trusted.
The elderly man was Baron Harold himself.
Like Baron Kemail, Baron Harold had endured similar experiences and was now old and frail. Even his eyes were somewhat clouded.
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
Titon barked urgently, his gaze sweeping his surroundings. The anger in his heart filled the steward with murderous intent.
He knew it had to be those "thieving scavengers" again!
As the Harold Family declined, it had lost its holdings throughout South Los. Once only Harold Manor remained, these "thieves" had begun appearing again and again.
The steward's father, the former steward, had been wounded fighting these "thieves" and died without receiving timely treatment.
That was why Titon hated these "thieves" to his very bones.
At the same time, his heart was filled with sorrow.
How glorious had the Harold Family once