"Who is she?" The voice of the Dulun Regent is as icy as cold stone, hovering silently over the plaza.
Duke Modkaesar, draped in a thick fur cloak, holds the Holy Sword, standing in the chill wind, with an imperceptible frown. When the members of the Song of Ash began to suspect each other, he realized this was a well-orchestrated play by the opposing side, a courtly power play he knows well, yet the intentions of the black-clad Prime Minister in Colin Palace remain a mystery.
The Phoenix Crest on Dulun City's tower, like the sword in his hand, has long weathered many storms. With an unusual calm, Duke Modkaesar keeps his silence, watching coldly from the sidelines.
The Dulun Regent straightens up, a hint of disdain irresistibly flashing in his eyes. From where Fang Hong stands, he can clearly observe the opposing side's expression, and a sudden ominous foreboding flashes through his mind.
