"You dare to kill me?" The middle-aged man forcefully suppressed his fear and asked.
"What is there to fear?"
"I am Count Dune, an important minister by the side of His Majesty. Do you want to oppose the entire Erune?" The middle-aged man's gaze was like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, staring coldly at Brand. "Not just you, you better think about it—your companions will also be labeled with the same crime."
Brand listened, stunned for a moment, then fell into silence.
Count Dune believed he had persuaded the other party and continued, "Of course, there is still room for negotiation between us. I can spare you and your companions, but for the sake of my honor, you must leave the Elf Sword behind." He said half-truthfully, but a trace of deep hatred flashed in his eyes.
Brand then sneered, looking at the other as if he were a moron. "What did you think I was pondering just now, Count?"
The middle-aged man was slightly taken aback.
