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Survivors who had fled south to the River Valley Province often donated money or goods to the royal family.
Though most items weren’t worth much, Acting King Somer had instructed the staff to accept them all. After all, they were gestures of goodwill.
And more importantly, when living under someone else’s roof, it meant a lot to still have people thinking of you. Those were the truly loyal comrades.
At the knock on the window, the old gatekeeper in the guard booth yawned, lifting his drowsy face from his elbow. Seeing the book cradled in the visitor’s arms, he assumed it was another donation, probably not worth anything, either.
Still, remembering Lord Somer’s instructions, he muttered a question as a dutiful royal servant.
“Name?”
“Commander Lu Bei of the New Alliance’s Guard Corps.”
Though Lu Bei had spoken in a low voice, his title and his origin were still clearly heard.
The sleep vanished instantly from the old man’s face. It was like he had regained 20 years of youth, shooting up from his chair with his eyes wide. “You… You’re from the...
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