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Chapter 7: The Producer’s Pitch
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Chapter 9: The Third Summon
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... the outside, at least.
A single smoky firepit burned in the center of the room, casting a long flickering shadows. It smelled of wet wool and old ale.
Reeve Murdoch was not a king. He was a bald barrel-chested man with a face like a worn-out boot and an iron-grey beard that looked wiry enough to scour a pot.
He sat at a heavy oak table, his gaze fixed on Dante, while Thomas, the guard, stood uneasily by the door.
Rin-Rin was already bored.
"Producer-sama, ...
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