Sunlight poured into the spacious study, casting a gentle glow over the oak desk and the Magic Web Terminal beside it. The scent of invigorating incense slowly drifted through the air, finding its way into Byron's nostrils, compelling the mercenary-born Imperial General to almost let out an impolite sneeze.
"... The envoy from the Sacred Dragon Kingdom will arrive soon at the northern border," Gawain said, seated behind the desk, casually placing a document on the table. "You will meet them."
Byron scratched his head, but midway through, he realized it was now "the Imperial Era," and being this casual in front of the emperor was somewhat inappropriate. He quickly lowered his hand: "Understood—I don't know diplomacy though?"
Gawain glanced at the "mercenary general" with a smile: "Isn't your eloquence always excellent? Even Sir Philip was swayed by your words."
