"King Morne?"

Looking at the bustling crowd on both sides of the main road, Roland caught the key phrase in the residents' discussions, and doubt rose in his heart.

"Wasn't this king supposed to be going to Blackwater Territory for an inspection? Why would he appear in Far Harbor? This place doesn't belong to the Golden Valley Kingdom..."

While he was thinking, a group of people began approaching from the city gate along the main road.

Roland set aside his questions for now and looked up with curiosity.

Ever since hearing from Bronson that this king possessed peak transcendent strength, Roland had developed a strong interest in the mysterious monarch.

As the group drew near, Roland's gaze naturally fell on the old man walking at the very front.

The residents on both sides of the street cheered with rising enthusiasm. Many stood on tiptoe, waving their arms and shouting.

"Your Majesty Morne!"

"Long live the king!"

Without a doubt, this seemingly ordinary old man was the ruler of the Golden Valley Kingdom, King Morne.

Roland narrowed his eyes and carefully sized up the legendary monarch.

The king's appearance was somewhat different from what he had imagined.

There was no gorgeous procession, no imposing guard formation, and not even the crown that symbolized royal authority.

His clothing was extremely plain. It was merely a gray-brown coarse linen robe, with an old leather belt casually tied around his waist.

His hair was full of silver. Although his figure was slightly hunched, his steps were steady, his spirit hale, and a warm smile hung on his face, making him look like an ordinary old man.

If not for the respectful, eager way the surrounding residents addressed him, perhaps no one would think he was a king.

"Your Majesty Morne! Try the bread my family just baked!"

A woman squeezed forward and offered a steaming piece of rye bread.

"Haha, then I won't stand on ceremony!"

King Morne laughed heartily, accepted the bread without hesitation, and took a large bite. As he chewed, he nodded in praise.

"Mm! Fragrant! Much chewier than the white bread in the palace!"

Seeing this, the surrounding residents laughingly offered fruits, smoked meat, and even a string of wild berries handed up by a child standing on tiptoe.

King Morne accepted everything with cheerful good humor. From time to time, he rubbed children's heads, drawing bursts of friendly laughter from the crowd.

There was no distant air of someone high above others, and no deliberate pose of authority.

He walked among the crowd like an old neighbor out for a stroll, rather than a monarch on progress.

Beside King Morne, a round-bodied middle-aged man followed respectfully from beginning to end.

He wore an exquisite dark purple silk robe, and around his waist was a silver belt set with emeralds. Several gemstone rings on his fingers flashed beneath the sun.

An attentive smile filled his round face. From time to time, he bowed and said something to the king while using ringed fingers to indicate important buildings on both sides of the street.

His movements were surprisingly agile. Sometimes he walked quickly ahead of the king to guide the way. Sometimes he fell back half a step, maintaining exactly the right respectful distance.

Although he kept wiping beads of sweat from his smooth forehead, the smile on his face never faded.

The guards maintaining order treated him with both respect and fear. Whenever his gaze swept over them, they immediately straightened.

As Roland's attention shifted farther back, a burly, silent man half a step behind King Morne entered his sight.

His whole body was covered in finely crafted plate armor, the cold, hard metal gleaming beneath the sun.

The man half narrowed his eyes, his expression stern. His gaze swept the surroundings like a blade, as though no movement could escape his perception.

Roland's eyes lingered on that guard for a moment, and his heart tightened.

This person was very strong.

Although Roland had not come into close contact with him, that restrained pressure still made his nerves tense by instinct.

As King Morne moved away, a procession appeared at the end of the street.

The various flags fluttering in the wind immediately caught Roland's attention.

A blue lion flag edged in gold thread, an ancient oak emblem in red and black, a falcon spreading its wings on a silver-white field...

"These people... should be the nobles who came to pay respects to King Morne..."

Roland observed thoughtfully.

From the order in which these family flags were arranged, the difference in rank was clear.

The leading family processions were grand and imposing. The soldiers' armor gleamed brightly, and the attendants were dressed splendidly. They should be old noble families with deep foundations.

The nobles in the middle of the procession appeared relatively restrained. They maintained proper bearing and occasionally adjusted their clothing, clearly taking this meeting very seriously.

When Roland's gaze swept to the end of the procession, he froze.

On a slightly old dark green flag, the Collins family's crossed-swords emblem was still clearly visible.

And beneath the flag, he saw a familiar figure.

"Darco?"

The young noble master looked utterly haggard.

The blond hair that had once been meticulously groomed now hung messily over his forehead, and the faint dark circles beneath his eyes showed that he had not rested properly for a long time.

Although he still maintained a noble's bearing, his former high spirits had vanished, replaced by deep fatigue and dejection.

There were only a dozen or so attendants at his side, making his group the thinnest among the noble processions.

"Why would he be here? Wasn't the one coming supposed to be Baron Forsling?"

Roland frowned. After thinking for a moment, he pushed open the door and stepped out.

...

...

Harbor district, Sea Pearl Hall.

This three-story white building was built facing the sea. Carefully woven rattan chairs were arranged across the spacious terrace, and gauze curtains fluttered in the sea breeze.

"Your Majesty, this is the best viewing spot in Far Harbor."

The fat middle-aged man wiped sweat from his forehead and respectfully guided King Morne forward.

"From here, you can overlook the entire harbor's prosperity."

"Old Colin, you merchants really know how to enjoy life!"

King Morne cheerfully patted the railing, narrowed his eyes, and enjoyed the sea breeze blowing against his face, his expression full of comfort.

"This place is far more pleasant than my palace balcony!"

The fat middle-aged man called Colin immediately filled his face with a smile.

"Your Majesty is joking. For a humble place like this to earn your visit is our greatest honor."

As he spoke, he skillfully snapped his fingers, and attendants immediately brought chilled grape wine and fresh seafood platters.

"Enough of that!"

King Morne grabbed a fresh shrimp with his hand and put it into his mouth. While chewing the sweet shrimp meat with great relish, he spoke indistinctly.

"The money you River Kingdoms people have earned over the years could probably buy half of Golden Valley Kingdom."

He winked meaningfully.

"Especially you, 'Silver Scale' Colin. I heard you added three new merchant ships last year alone?"

The fat on Colin's face trembled, and he bent slightly in a hurry.

"It is all thanks to Your Majesty's care."

"Relax..."

King Morne laughed and waved a hand, then roughly pulled out the wine bottle stopper and tilted his head back for a large gulp.

"I came here today to eat seafood, not to shake anyone down. Right..."

After wiping the wine from his chin, the uninhibited king grinned.

"What have those rats been doing lately?"

With the topic shifted, Colin secretly released a breath and smiled.

"Thanks to Your Majesty's cooperation, they are gathering toward Far Harbor. However..."

He glanced at the burly guard behind the king, and a worried expression appeared on his face at just the right time.

"You only brought one guard. Would that..."

"What?"

King Morne raised a brow in return.

"Are Far Harbor's guards unable to protect me?"

"Your Majesty, that is not what I meant..."

Seeing Colin hurry to explain, King Morne sighed helplessly and patted his shoulder.

"Colin, you are too dull. If that old fellow Derek were here, he would never be so deferential toward me..."

When Colin still seemed ready to say something, the king interrupted him directly.

"Besides, if I bring too many guards, how would those rats dare show themselves?"

"You are right..."

Seeing Colin remain cautious and overly careful, Morne lost interest.

He lazily collapsed into a rattan chair and casually yawned.

"Tell me, Colin. What is your plan?"

After hearing the question, Colin hurriedly leaned closer.

"In a few days, it will be Far Harbor's annual Sea God Festival. At that time, as long as Your Majesty..."

"You want me to be the bait, right?"

Morne gave a loud whistle, the corner of his mouth lifting into an amused smile.

"That suits me perfectly."

The nobles of the Golden Valley Kingdom naturally would not stay at Sea Pearl Hall like King Morne, but their accommodations were by no means shabby.

It was a luxury inn near the harbor called Mist Island.

As a privately run inn, there were no guards stationed at the entrance, so Roland easily entered through the front door.

Just as he was about to ask the hall attendant about Darco's whereabouts, an intense argument came from upstairs.

"Hmph! Country bumpkin from Blackwater Territory, where is your father?"

"He actually sent a brat who has yet to inherit his title to pay respects to His Majesty Morne. Looks like that old Forsling doesn't take His Majesty seriously at all!"

"You are not allowed to insult my father!"

Hearing the familiar voice, Roland nodded in thanks to the attendant and immediately strode up the stairs.

In the second-floor corridor, the haggard Darco was facing off against a middle-aged man with a mustache and luxurious silk clothing.

The middle-aged man held his head high and looked contemptuously at Darco's trembling hand as it moved toward the sword hilt.

"What? Does the country bumpkin want to fight?"

The middle-aged man sneered, deliberately emphasizing the term country bumpkin with every syllable.

The repeated humiliation and slander against his father finally snapped Darco's nerves, which had been stretched tight for days.

The instant he was about to draw his sword, a broad, powerful hand gripped his wrist.

Sensing this, Darco instinctively struggled with all his strength, only to discover that no matter what he did, he could not break free from that iron-pincer grip. Burning with rage, he turned his head.

But the moment he saw the newcomer's face clearly, the anger in his eyes receded, replaced by unbelievable surprise.

"Roland..."

His voice trembled slightly.

"Calm down, Darco."

Roland replied in a low voice while steadily pressing the iron sword that had already slid half an inch from its sheath back down.

"Ha!"

Noticing Roland's plain clothes, the middle-aged man's brows lifted, and he dragged out his tone mockingly.

"What? Our little young master from Blackwater Territory now has to obey a servant's instruc..."

"Enough, Marshall... cough, cough, cough..."

A hoarse voice interrupted him.

Following the sound, Roland saw a stooped old man with sparse gray-white hair walking over.

He heavily tapped the cane in his hand, and the tense atmosphere in the corridor immediately stalled.

"We came here to pay respects to His Majesty Morne, not to show off our tongues. Am I wrong?"

"Hmph!"

Hearing the old man's unhurried words, Marshall let out a cold snort, flicked his sleeve, and turned into a nearby room.

With his departure, the crowded corridor became much more spacious.

When Darco saw the old man, he forced out a faint smile.

"Uncle Gavin..."

Hearing this name, Roland raised his brows.

Dawnlight Territory, that barren and chaotic land, had left a deep impression on him.

Yet looking at the mild expression on this man's face, Roland found it difficult to connect the person before him with the lord said to impose excessive taxes and levies.

"Do not lower yourself to their level, child."

Baron Gavin coughed several more times and gently patted Darco's shoulder.

"Remember. The moment you left Blackwater Territory, you represented the Collins family. Do not shame your father. Understand?"

"I understand, Uncle Gavin..."

Darco calmed. After respectfully bending in salute, he seemed to remember something and asked, "Right, Uncle Gavin. Where is Mason? Didn't he come with you?"

Roland, silent at the side, noticed that the instant he heard the name Mason, the smile on Baron Gavin's face stiffened slightly, and the corner of his mouth twitched unnaturally.

But that strangeness vanished in an instant, so quickly that one could almost think it was an illusion.

"That boy..."

Baron Gavin shook his head helplessly.

"Like you, he will soon go to Knight Academy for advanced study. He is busy tempering his skills right now. I wanted to bring him, but that child is terribly stubborn..."

"Hahaha, Mason is still the same as always..."

Darco echoed with a laugh.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, the two sides parted on friendly terms.

Roland followed Darco into the room, and the wooden door closed behind them.

"Roland, I truly didn't expect you to still be here."

The young noble master's exhausted voice carried surprise he could not hide.

"I thought you had already started back toward the estate..."

Looking at the forced smile on his friend's face, Roland did not answer at once.

He cautiously looked around. Only after confirming no one else was present did he lock the door.

When he turned around, the question had already left his mouth.

"What exactly happened? Why are you the one paying respects to His Majesty King Morne?"

"Father encountered an attack."

Darco's voice turned hoarse, roughened like sandpaper.

He collapsed into a wooden chair, his fingers rubbing the pattern on the sword hilt.

"It was that same night... around the same time we were attacked..."

This result matched Roland's earlier prediction, so he was not surprised. He merely pressed his lips together and continued asking, "And then?"

"Father led the accompanying guards and successfully broke through the encirclement. Not long after you left the estate, Father returned with the guards, but..."

Darco's unfocused gaze drifted toward the window.

When Roland saw the grief appearing in his eyes, his expression tightened.

With the strength of those rioters, even adding that strange Giant, they should not have been a match for Baron Forsling and his elite guards.

But judging from Darco's expression...

"Darco..."

Roland's voice softened.

"Lord Baron Forsling, he..."

Seeing Roland's hesitant expression, Darco immediately understood that he had misunderstood and hurriedly shook his head.

"Father's life is not in danger. It's just... he has remained unconscious. Before I left, he still showed no sign of waking."

After those words fell, Roland secretly released a breath.

From the standpoint of benefit, the estate was currently his main stronghold for improving his strength. Whether Blackwater Territory remained stable was extremely important to him.

And from a personal standpoint, he also did not want to see his friend suffer the pain of losing his father.

Thinking of this, Roland stepped forward and lightly patted Darco's shoulder.

"Don't worry too much. Since his life isn't in danger, with Lord Baron Forsling's constitution, he should soon..."

"It's not that simple..."

Roland's words of comfort did not relax Darco. He shook his head somewhat weakly, his clenched knuckles turning faintly white.

"Aside from a few minor scrapes, Father has no fatal injuries at all. But none of the physicians can diagnose the reason for his coma. And..."

As Darco described Baron Forsling's condition, Roland reached up and rubbed his chin.

With the experience of having just taken the Awakening Potion not long ago, he connected this abnormal condition to damage on the mental level.

After thinking for a moment, Roland carefully asked, "This situation... have you asked Mr. Bronson to take a look?"

"Mr. Bronson?"

Hearing this name, Darco was visibly stunned, confusion appearing on his face.

In his impression, although that scholar was learned, he did not seem connected to medicine.

But this sentence seemed to remind Darco of something. His eyes lit up, and he slapped his forehead.

"Wait!"

After saying this, he quickly walked to the bed and took out an object wrapped in linen from beneath the pillow.

The bundle landed on the wooden table with a dull sound.

As Darco untied the cord, he said, "Before Mr. Bronson left, he specifically told me that if I encountered you in Far Harbor, I should give this to you..."

As the linen was unfolded layer by layer, the item inside finally revealed its true appearance.

It was a white bone gleaming with an ivory-like luster, its surface densely engraved with complex and mysterious lines.

Those lines flickered faintly beneath the sunlight.