Flesh struck flesh with occasional curses and excited shouts. A group of Nightblades surrounded the traitorous old man and relentlessly beat him. These seasoned soldiers knew exactly how to inflict pain without causing serious injury.0

The "old man," bound at his joints, turned pale and rolled on the ground as they kicked him. However, he gritted his teeth and refused to utter a word, letting out only muffled grunts of pain when struck.0

"Stop." Charles gestured for the soldiers to halt their beating and stepped forward. He reached out and touched the immobile man's face, feeling around before gripping a small seam and giving it a tug. The man's skin peeled off—it was a translucent mask-like material that wriggled slightly like a living creature before shriveling into a lifeless, blackened lump.0

Beneath the mask was a youthful face. The man looked roughly the same age as Charles and Edward. His sharp gaze was fixed on Charles's intrigued expression.0

"Well, well, Selwyn's craftsmanship isn't half bad. I've not seen a human-skin mask like this before. It's quite impressive for a kingdom known for its military prowess. Who knew it'd dabble in espionage, too? Great tools, but poor execution."0

"How did you know?" The young man glowered...0