The Conference Hall was dead silent.
The statue of the St. Prowse Family's First Holy Knight watched the crowd quietly.
If he were conscious, he would probably have thrust his huge sword down through Colin's head at the sight of the current scene.
All the nobles from the Eastland remained silent, their eyes fluttering all around.
One moment they would look at Count Nicoll, then at Eckert Saint Proust.
However, the first heir to the Duke of the Eastland now seemed to be sound asleep in his mother's warm embrace.
The Marchioness had also noticed that something was not right, uneasy at the mysterious glances that pierced her back.
She was not an ambitious woman. When she married Marquis Vincent, she was merely following her father's arrangement.
After entering White Dew Fortress, she had never used her position as the Marchioness to develop her own power, because of the sensitive position of the Howell Family, even deliberately keeping a low profile.
