"Crash!" With a loud noise, glass utensils that had been placed on the desk before him fell to the floor and shattered into sparkling, transparent fragments. A few thick books were also forcefully swept aside by the master, all tossed to one side, leaving his normally ruddy cheeks to turn ashen. The old man's silver hair seemed to rise slightly, as if affected by his master's mood, looking somewhat disheveled and out of place.
Mattdam has opened its port! What does this mean?! Even a fool could see what those people in the Southern Nether Sea had been up to in between. Philip's mood had been rather poor for some time, and he was astonished to find that ever since he had exiled that profligate son to the Caucasus, a series of misfortunes had followed one after another.
