When his gaze met Gon's, the man winked. It was a quick motion, like a spark of light that flickered and disappeared, but it sent a shiver down Gon's spine.
"BUT BEFORE WE CAN GET INTO THE JUICY FIGHTS WE ALL CAME HERE FOR, OUR DUKE HAS A LITTLE SPEECH FOR US".
The announcers's voice rang.
The Duke rose slowly from his intricately carved chair.
As he straightened to his full height, the rich fabric of his deep crimson cloak, lined with golden embroidery, caught the light, accentuating the regal aura he exuded.
He placed one gloved hand on the polished wooden armrest, steadying himself, before clearing his throat—a sound that resonated through the grand hall, commanding immediate attention.
The faint murmur of the gathered crowd fell silent, their eyes drawn to him, awaiting his next words with a mixture of anticipation and unease.
