"Lord Primo, Seventeenth requests an audience."
Inside a luxurious office adorned with a Hawkin banner hanging on the walls, an elderly man bowed as he reported to a bespectacled, middle-aged man with long blonde hair, a scholarly physique, and handsome facial features accentuated by sharp, hawkish eyes.
"Seventeenth?" the man named Primo responded, narrowing his eyes. "Why is that brat even here? Tell him to come in."
"Right away, Lord Primo." the old man in a suit said, exiting the room shortly after.
A few moments later, Seventeenth Hawkling, known by others as Leffen Suntale, entered the room.
He then walked closer to Primo's desk with hints of shame and anger in his eyes.
"So? Why the hell are you here? You have the simplest job out of all the Hawklings, no?" the middle-aged man asked in a cold voice, making Leffen tremble.
