A sudden shout was like a stone thrown into a calm, ripple-free lake.
Ripples formed, layer upon layer.
Then—
It turned into a towering tidal wave!
"It's Lord Pistri Hamlet!"
"In his arms, in his arms is...
Lord Dieudonne Hamlet's head!"
Everyone's gaze turned to the Young Lion who appeared near the battlefield, looking at the Young Lion whose face was filled with grief and eyes were full of terror.
At this moment, the Young Lion looked like a frightened fawn that had been wounded.
Every breath seemed to carry a hint of fear-induced evasion.
No one would think this was fake.
Because everyone knew Pistri Hamlet was a kind person, willing to listen to the voice of the commoners, a noble with knightly spirit.
Moreover, at this moment, Pistri was holding Dieudonne's head in his arms.
Compared to his brother Pistri, Dieudonne was even more famous in Inner Bay.
His handsome face had always been the focus of discussion among the women in the noble circles of Inner Bay.
