Roland took a light sip of the pale yellow liquor in his cup, his thoughtful gaze drifting toward the middle-aged noble in the center of the crowd.

’That must be... Marston, the head of the noble faction...’

Though the leader of this noble faction was nearly fifty, he still maintained an upright posture.

The lines time had etched on his face did not diminish his bearing; instead, they faintly revealed the handsome contours of his youth.

Unlike the nobles of the other River Domain nations, Marston’s speech and mannerisms exuded an elegant air identical to that of the nobility in the Golden Valley Kingdom. It was a kind of innate, unhurried confidence.

The only imperfection was the disability in his right leg. He was currently leaning casually on a cane, which slightly marred the noble decorum he deliberately maintained.

"Everyone!"

Marston raised his wine glass, his face beaming with unconcealable joy.

"I’m sure many of you here have already heard the reason I’m holding this banquet..."

He paused deliberately, letting a sense of anticipation spread through the crowd.

"That’s right! I have forged a friendship with the Dwarf King, and soon, Dwarf Artisans will come to aid in our kingdom’s construction!"

"A toast to friendship!"

"A toast to friendship!"

Led by Marston, the nobles raised their glasses and cheered, their shouts seemingly tinged with the pent-up frustrations of their daily lives.

Roland, however, furrowed his brow slightly upon hearing the news.

As far as he knew, there were no kingdoms established by Dwarves in the vicinity of the River Domain nations.

And besides...

’Why are they so excited?’

Logically, establishing relations with another country should be a common affair for the resource-rich River Domain nations. Why would it provoke such a fervent reaction?

Just as Roland was pondering this, the sound of unhurried footsteps echoed from outside the hall.

A group of people dressed in exquisite formal wear, their chests embroidered with various marine motifs, walked in slowly.

’People from the Merchant Faction?’

Roland was inwardly surprised.

He had come to fully understand the tense relationship between the two major factions during his time here.

His gaze fell upon the leader of the group, and he immediately understood.

’It seems this is Derek.’

The man had a portly figure that wasn’t bloated, and his amiable smile held a hint of deliberateness.

He spread his arms wide and, ignoring the surrounding nobles’ gazes of surprise or resentment, walked straight toward Marston.

"Oh, my dear old friend! To think you’d hold such a grand banquet without telling me!"

The smile on Marston’s face stiffened imperceptibly for an instant before returning to normal.

He gave Derek a warm embrace and responded, his tone laden with meaning.

"Welcome, Derek. I was worried you were busy with official duties. After all..."

He paused meaningfully.

"I hear the rules of the Elf Race are quite cumbersome. I feared you might be spread too thin."

Derek chuckled softly and spoke in a slow, deliberate manner.

"I have indeed been swamped with official business lately, but when it comes to a matter as important as establishing relations with another country, how could I not come to discuss it with you? For that reason..."

Before he could finish, the sound of heavy footsteps suddenly echoed through the hall.

In the blink of an eye, a towering, mountain-like figure appeared before everyone.

"It certainly is lively..."

Seeing Graham appear, Roland raised an eyebrow slightly, his gaze sweeping across the entire hall.

He saw that the members of the Merchant Faction could barely hide the smugness on their faces, while the expressions of the nobles changed dramatically. Some even had flashes of fear in their eyes. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

With Graham’s arrival, the once-noisy banquet hall fell silent.

Derek, however, seemed not to notice and continued speaking.

"For that reason... I took the liberty of inviting Mr. Graham to come. I think..."

Watching the smile gradually fade from Marston’s face, the corners of his own mouth turned up slightly.

"You wouldn’t have forgotten our prior agreement... that when matters of state are discussed, Mr. Graham has the right to be present as a witness, would you?"

"You’re right, old friend..."

Marston nodded, his face devoid of expression. After glancing at the silent Graham, he leaned on his cane and stepped aside to make way.

"This way, please."

"Thank you."

Derek responded politely, gave a few instructions to his entourage, and then followed Marston away with Graham, soon disappearing from everyone’s sight.

After the three of them left, the atmosphere in the banquet hall instantly became strange.

Although the volume of conversation didn’t decrease, the Merchant Faction and the noble faction stood clearly divided on opposite sides, as if an invisible barrier lay between them.

This subtle atmosphere was only alleviated when Galvis took the stage to sing.

The Minstrel’s song seemed to contain a kind of magic, gradually dispelling the heavy tension in the air.

Guided by his song, the two factions, though still not interacting, gradually became immersed in the banquet’s atmosphere.

Only Roland remained completely unaffected.

He observed everything before him with great interest, his gaze lingering particularly on the figure singing passionately on the high stage.

’The Power of a Minstrel... does this count as a form of Spiritual Control?’

He pondered inwardly, inevitably recalling his first meeting with Galvis and the strange atmosphere between himself and Avril that day.

’Why did this Minstrel choose me? Was it just because of my strength? And also...’

Thinking of that overly enthusiastic brown-haired Elf Maiden, Roland’s brow furrowed slightly.

He didn’t believe Avril’s enthusiasm stemmed purely from his appearance.

It wasn’t that he was paranoid; rather, he firmly believed there was no love or hate in this world without a reason.

His friendship with Sean and the others was forged through shared experiences, but Galvis and Avril...

Just as Roland was lost in thought, the door leading to the inner chamber opened again.

Unlike before, this time Derek walked in front, with Marston and Graham following closely behind.

The Dean of the Knight Academy remained expressionless, but the change in the middle-aged noble was obvious.

The noble who had been so elegant just moments before now had his lips pressed tightly together, his cane striking the ground heavily with a dull thud.

’It seems the negotiations didn’t go well...’

Sensing the strange atmosphere, Roland put down his wine glass and discreetly moved to the side.

In the distance, Galvis, who had just finished his performance, was waving at him from below the stage.

’But none of this squabbling has anything to do with me. The priority is to find out the noble faction’s opinion on the Wolf King...’

Just as he was mulling this over, his sharp hearing caught the sound of approaching footsteps.

Roland stopped and looked toward the sound.

He saw that after parting ways with Marston, Derek was walking straight toward him.

"You must be Mr. Roland, correct?"

A practiced, amiable smile was on Derek’s round face.

"When I correspond with Colin, he often mentions you. My sincerest apologies..."

He tilted his head slightly, glancing at the silent Marston in the center of the crowd.

"...for getting you caught up in this dispute that has nothing to do with you."

This courteous and respectful demeanor took Roland slightly by surprise, but he quickly recovered and gave a slight bow.

"That’s an overstatement, Mr. Derek."

"I’ve already spoken with Mr. Graham."

Derek got straight to the point, looking at Roland with a sincere gaze.

"He may have... played a small prank on you earlier. Please don’t mind him."

"First thing tomorrow morning, you can go to the Knight Academy and find Old Nelson to receive the Knight’s Breathing Technique."