"When countless new nobles yearn for more power, status, and benefits, but can no longer find a grand goal like ours, can't find enemies for them to plunder, or targets for them to demand..."
[Hello everyone, I am the anti-theft chapter you've longed for.]
[Dinner is over, and I will switch back to the main text. App users should return to the bookshelf and reenter to continue reading.]
Still with the duchy's exclusive tone of acidity and sarcasm, Thales no longer felt any bit of humor or jest.
Thud!
Cyril's cane struck the ground fiercely.
The West Wasteland Guardian Duke blocked the window, his figure backlit. His wide but empty cloak, like the shadow of an eclipse, firmly enveloped him:
"Who do you think is most likely to be the new target of those who have lost their awe of the high and mighty and who are impatient to gain power?"
"Will it be those above, or those below?"
Falkenhauz coldly said:
"Who is above, and who is below?"
