’King Morne?’

Gazing at the bustling crowds lining the main road, Roland keenly caught the key name in their discussions, and a flicker of doubt sparked within him.

’Isn’t the king supposed to be on his way to inspect the Black Water Territory? Why would he be here in Distant Harbor? This place doesn’t even belong to the Golden Valley Kingdom...’

As he was lost in thought, a procession slowly made its way from the city gate, advancing along the main road.

Seeing this, Roland set aside his questions for the moment and looked up, his curiosity piqued.

Ever since hearing from Bronson that this king possessed the power of a peak Extraordinary, Roland had developed a keen interest in the mysterious monarch.

As the procession slowly drew near, Roland’s gaze naturally fell upon the old man walking at the very front.

The residents lining the street cheered enthusiastically, some even standing on tiptoe and waving their arms as they shouted.

"His 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 slightly, carefully studying the legendary monarch.

But the king’s appearance wasn’t quite what he’d imagined.

There was no magnificent entourage, no imposing guards; he wasn’t even wearing a crown to symbolize his royal authority.

Not only that, but his clothing was also extremely plain—just a greyish-brown, coarse cloth robe with an old leather belt tied casually around his waist.

He had a full head of silver hair. Though slightly stooped, his steps were steady and his spirit was high. A warm smile graced his face, making him look like any other ordinary old man.

If it weren’t for the respectful and fervent way the residents addressed him, no one would have guessed he was a king.

"His Majesty Morne! Try some of my freshly baked bread!"

A woman squeezed forward, handing him a piece of steaming hot rye bread.

"Haha, don’t mind if I do!"

King Morne let out a hearty laugh, took the bread without hesitation, and bit off a large chunk, nodding in praise as he chewed.

"Mm! Delicious! Much chewier than the white bread at the Royal Palace!"

Seeing this, the surrounding residents laughed and offered up their own fruits, cured meats, and even a child on tiptoe who handed him a string of wild berries.

King Morne accepted everything offered, taking each item cheerfully. He occasionally ruffled a child’s head, drawing a burst of good-natured laughter from the crowd.

There was no sense of lofty distance, no pretense of majesty.

He walked among the crowd as if he were just a neighborhood elder out for a stroll, not a monarch on a tour of his kingdom.

Beside King Morne, a portly middle-aged man followed respectfully at all times.

He wore an exquisite deep purple silk robe with a silver belt inlaid with jade at his waist. Several jeweled rings on his fingers glittered in the sunlight.

His round face was plastered with an obsequious smile. From time to time he would bow slightly to say something to the King, while pointing to important buildings on either side of the street with his ringed hand.

His movements were surprisingly agile; sometimes he would scurry ahead of the King to lead the way, and other times he would retreat half a step, maintaining a perfectly respectful distance.

Although he occasionally wiped the beads of sweat from his shiny 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 would immediately straighten their backs.

Roland’s gaze drifted back. Half a step behind King Morne, a burly, silent man came into view.

His entire body was encased in well-crafted Plate Armor, the cold, hard metal glinting menacingly in the sun.

The man’s eyes were half-closed, his expression grim, and his gaze swept across the surroundings like a blade, as if no movement, however slight, could escape his Perception.

Roland’s gaze lingered on the guard for a moment, a chill running down his spine.

’This man is strong.’

Though they weren’t close, the man’s restrained, oppressive aura made Roland instinctively tense up.

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

The various flags fluttering in the wind immediately caught Roland’s eye.

A lion rampant embroidered in gold thread on a blue field, the sigil of an ancient oak on a red-and-black banner, a falcon with spread wings on a field of silver-white...

’These people... they must be the nobles coming for an audience with King Morne...’

Roland observed thoughtfully.

The arrangement of the family banners clearly showed the differences in their status.

The processions of the leading families were grand; the soldiers’ Armor gleamed, the Attendants were impeccably dressed. They had to be old, established noble families with deep roots.

The nobles in the middle of the procession, however, appeared more low-key. They maintained a proper demeanor, occasionally adjusting their attire, seeming to place great importance on this meeting.

When his gaze swept to the end of the procession, Roland suddenly froze.

On a slightly worn, dark green banner, the twin-sword sigil of the Collins family was still clearly discernible.

And below the banner, he saw a familiar figure.

’Dalko?’

The young noble now looked utterly haggard.

His once meticulously groomed blond hair now hung messily over his forehead, and the faint dark circles under his eyes showed that he hadn’t had a good rest in a long time.

Although he still maintained a noble’s bearing, his once-spirited air was gone, replaced by a deep exhaustion and despondency.

There were only a dozen or so attendants by his side, the smallest contingent among all the noble processions.

’Why is he here? Wasn’t Baron Fosling supposed to be the one to come?’

Roland slowly furrowed his brow. After a moment of contemplation, he pushed open the door and stepped out.

......

......

「Sea Pearl Hall, Port District.」

This three-story white building was built by the sea. On its spacious terrace were exquisitely woven rattan chairs, and light gauze curtains fluttered gently in the sea breeze.

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

The portly middle-aged man wiped the sweat from his forehead and respectfully led King Morne forward.

"From here, you can overlook the entire bustling harbor."

"Old Colin, you Merchants really know how to live!"

King Morne chuckled and patted the railing, squinting as he felt the oncoming sea breeze, his face a picture of contentment.

"This place is much more comfortable than the balcony of my Royal Palace!"

The portly middle-aged man, Colin, immediately beamed.

"You jest, Your Majesty. It is our greatest honor that you would grace such a humble place with your presence."

As he spoke, he skillfully snapped his fingers, and attendants immediately brought out chilled wine and a fresh seafood platter.

"Oh, cut it out!"

King Morne grabbed a fresh shrimp with his bare hands and popped it into his mouth, speaking indistinctly as he feasted on the sweet, succulent meat.

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

He winked meaningfully.

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

The fat on Colin’s face trembled, and he quickly bowed slightly.

"It is all thanks to Your Majesty’s favor."

"Relax..."

King Morne laughed and waved his hand, then crudely uncorked the wine bottle and took a big swig.

"I’m here today to eat seafood, not to extort you. By the way..."

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

"Have those rats made any moves lately?"

Seeing the topic change, Colin secretly breathed a sigh of relief and said with a smile,

"Thanks to Your Majesty’s cooperation, they are gathering in Distant Harbor. However..."

He glanced at the burly guard behind the king, a look of concern appearing on his face at just the right moment.

"You only brought one guard, won’t that be..."

"What?"

King Morne raised an eyebrow.

"Are you saying the Guards of Distant Harbor can’t protect me?"

"Your Majesty, that’s not what I meant..."

Seeing Colin’s eagerness to explain, King Morne sighed helplessly and patted his shoulder.

"Colin, you’re too boring. If that old fellow Derek were here, he wouldn’t be so damn reverent with me..."

Seeing that Colin still wanted to say something, the King cut him off.

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

"You have a point..."

Morne found his enthusiasm waning at Colin’s persistent caution.

He slumped lazily into the rattan chair and let out a careless yawn.

"So, tell me, Colin. What’s your plan?"

Hearing the question, Colin quickly leaned in closer.

"In a few days, it will be Distant Harbor’s annual ’Sea God Festival.’ At that time, we just need you to..."

"Let me be the bait, is that it?"

Morne let out a sharp whistle, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Suits me just fine."