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The goblin Keppert had expected this. He scanned the restless crowd. "Everyone, calm down."
He cleared his throat lightly and brought the camp to silence, leaving only his voice echoing in the air.
For sorcerers with political ambitions, the Sound Class was almost a necessity. The way a person spoke determined the presence they projected. Even if a politician had no interest in hearing a rival's arguments, they still had to be able to defend their right to speak.
Keppert continued, "I understand your concerns. I won't waste time with pleasantries. If we dragged out all the adventurers and arrested every last one of them, innocents would certainly be caught in the crossfire. But if we targeted only a portion, some of the guilty ones would inevitably slip through."
He glanced down at the frightened adventurers. The contempt in his eyes deepened. At this point, they're no different from stray dogs. The mayor was right. Dogs can be used, but never trusted. A dog will always chase someone else's bone. Only by working with wolves can these dogs be stripped to the marrow. Feed the wolves, sharpen their claws, and eventually they'll turn on their master. The Blood Moon Kingdom...
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