Count Lisban, solemn-faced and white-haired, sat at the long table in the main disciplinary hall of Sword District. He raised his chin with a stern look and asked, "Can you repeat that?"
A sturdy middle-aged man stood before him with a grim expression. He gave a slight bow.
The middle-aged noble was dressed in plain clothes, but his actions carried the air of a militant that even the Day before the Bitter Cold Winter could not wash away.
"A simple foot soldier found out about it." The person in charge of the main disciplinary hall and chief garrison officer of the capital, Viscount Leisdon, narrowed his eyes.
"The routine briefing reported from Heroic Spirit Palace was odd—the passcode to the gatehouse was not quite right..." His facial expression turned chilly. A glint like a sharp blade shone in his eyes. "It's as though it has been tampered with, Prime Minister."
Count Lisban furrowed his brow.
