"Brand, Frey seems to be angry."
"It’s okay, just follow along."
Miss Merchant glanced at him curiously.
Lord Jin Guo Seber had a pretty good mood this day, if not for the incident in front of him.
He saw the girl suddenly rushing towards him and hesitated for a moment. The guards immediately surrounded her tightly. Seber also saw two people within the circle, both dressed in rustic clothes. He froze and a surge of anger rose within his chest.
What are these idiots doing, letting three filthy country bumpkins in here. Who’s the captain on duty tonight? I’ll make him go back and eat his own words!
Seber’s face alternated between blue and white, just as he was about to erupt, he felt someone behind him poke him with the handle of a cane. He turned around and saw that loathsome industrialist, the big shot Sir Burnley, with a face full of fat. Frankly, he didn’t even want to exchange a single extra word with this money-grubbing, calculating fatty, but luckily, Lord was clear-headed enough to understand that, at least for now, they were on the same side.
Following the other’s gaze, he was startled to see Frey’s shoulder insignia. Buqi’s militia, hadn’t Madara’s army already reached Belredo Forest? How did they get here?
He couldn’t help but glance slightly further behind, hoping that the big shot over there didn’t notice the commotion here. Then he squeezed his sword hilt and said in a low voice to the guards, "What are you doing here? Take the assassins down."
Frey was about to speak but was stunned by his words. She stared helplessly, wanting to argue, but the surrounding guards had all drawn their longswords—a clear metallic ring that seemed to pierce her heart.
"What’s going on here?"
It was at this moment that a calm, serious voice intervened, causing everyone to subconsciously make way. When the crowd parted, it revealed a stern, cold middle-aged man with deep-set eyes and a prominent nose, holding a gold-crafted cane, staring coldly at everyone present.
Seber inhaled sharply, inwardly cursing: damn it, still attracted this trouble. His thoughts raced, his expression unchanged, he replied, "A few civilians broke in, probably assassins again."
"Civilians?" The middle-aged man frowned.
"Lord, we’re not assassins. We are Buqi’s militia," Frey eagerly clarified, "We came here to report, Buqi is under attack by Ma—"
The middle-aged man showed a disgusted expression and interrupted, "What’s your name."
"Frey, Frey." Frey was startled, feeling as if she was being stared at by a venomous snake under his cold gaze, she couldn’t help but lower her head.
"And you?" He asked Roman.
"I’m Roman, Uncle," the future Miss Merchant blinked, answered.
Someone in the crowd couldn’t help but chuckle twice, but quickly suppressed their laughter. This time the middle-aged man’s expression didn’t change, waving his hand instead, "Take them down, we’ll interrogate them properly later."
"Lord, we..." Frey was shocked, hurriedly raised her head to explain.
But the other party didn’t listen to their explanation at all, ordering the guards to press them down. The middle-aged man watched coldly, then suddenly said, "Wait."
As if his words held great power, everyone subconsciously stopped their actions to look at him.
"Let me see the sword in that man’s hand." He pointed his cane at Brand.
Everyone was stunned, then noticed the sword in Brand’s hand. It was an Elf sword, known for its exquisite beauty, often circulated as art pieces among the upper class. Seber couldn’t help but curse inwardly again, thinking that this man, who wouldn’t even spit out bones when eating, had sharp eyes to notice two women and a sword.
What bothered him was that the other’s identity and status were much higher than his. Even if he wanted it, he could only obediently hand it over. He couldn’t afford to offend the powerful force behind the other.
He waved his hand, a few guards understood immediately, drawing their swords towards Brand.
Brand turned to look at Frey, seeing her face full of bewilderment and loss, somewhat dazed. He knew it was almost time, but still needed to remain calm, he shrugged and obediently handed over the sword.
This kid seems sensible. Seber thought inwardly.
A guard ran over holding the sword, presented it with both hands to the middle-aged man. The middle-aged man coldly took the sword, flipped the blade, read the inscription:
"A’ssonston, Donamiru——"(Elvish: Born from light, fear among enemies)
He raised the sword, the Elf treasure sword shimmering in his hand, everyone couldn’t help but gasp. A magic sword, these nobles couldn’t help but turn their gaze to Brand’s group, increasingly convinced they were assassins. After all, who has a militia carrying magic weapons, who would believe that?
However, the middle-aged man looked at the slightly glowing leaf-shaped longsword in his hand and revealed a rare smile. He glanced at the industrialist beside him and asked, "Sir Boli’en, knowledgeable and wealthy, can you tell me the origin of this sword?"
The fatty noble quickly rolled his body, smiled ingratiatingly and said, "I’ve seen some Elf weapons, but if we’re talking about knowledgeable, how can we compare to Your Lordship’s experiences in that circle."
The middle-aged man coldly smiled and replied, "In favor of the sword, make their night more comfortable. Tomorrow, I will personally interrogate these assassins, and take good care of those two ladies. You better convey my exact words to your captain, Glanson, don’t think I am unaware of their dirty tricks—"
His words grew colder, making the guard in front of him shiver, but the others revealed meaningful smiles, the more evident his attitude, the more advantageous it was for them.
Just two women and a sword, compared to their vested interests, the latter was more important.
Frey’s face turned red with anger, she couldn’t help but take a deep breath, clenched her fists tightly, for a moment Brand feared she might act impulsively. But luckily, Miss Valkyrie had become much steadier than when they first met.
He raised his head, glanced at the middle-aged man, then at the glowing Azure Light Piercing in his hand. He furrowed his brows, who was that man? Looked like someone of high status, but he couldn’t know every historical detail. However, the other’s reaction was interesting.
But he wasn’t too tense, the real show was still ahead.
As they were being escorted off by the guards, Brand distinctly heard the middle-aged man ask:
"Alright, back to business. Mr. Seber, when exactly do you plan to let me leave the city?" The middle-aged man’s voice was cold and slightly mocking.
"Count, at this critical time, Madara has reached Fanmir Fortress. Buqi’s flank might be endangered, the wilderness is too dangerous, especially since you are a close minister to Your Majesty, we cannot risk your safety."
The middle-aged man smiled and said nothing.
(PS. Hu Po on the Three Rivers has a poll, hope everyone votes! Also, those with free votes, please focus your annual votes on the work - Hu Po! The author does not need to vote.)