�Whose blood do you think it was?�

The image of the battle that came along with the low voice of the man who had been at the forefront was a bit different.

Whose blood?

Cale asked the question and then answered it.

�The enemy.�

These nobles had not experienced war. They realized that the person in front of them was not simply a noble. The weight of the title of commander slowly started to seep into their minds.

�The Roan Kingdom�s enemy, the northeast region�s enemy, my enemy.�

Cale�s gaze then headed back toward the Count.

�As well as my people�s enemy.�

My enemy, but more importantly, my people�s enemy.

Those words stabbed into the Count�s ears like nails. The Count holding the agenda felt his hand starting to shake.

It was a warning.

My people.

It was a warning not to touch the sword master nor the necromancer.

Marquis Ailan who was watching this started to speak almost as if he was gasping.

��He�s a tree.�

A sturdy tree. One that never falters nor bows as it maintains its spot.

He should have realized this back during the capital�s Plaza Terror Incident.

The Marquis realized that Cale Henituse truly was an upright hero.

That was why he was relieved.

He was relieved that Cale was not a schemer.

�What a relief.�

It was at that moment.

�The Roan Kingdom is strong.� JrNovels.com