A faint commotion reached Ian's ears. He was the only one who noticed the disturbance. Neither the merchants, who were engrossed in the meeting nor their guards, half-asleep with boredom, had picked up on it. Ian was just about to glance at Philip when he felt a subtle surge of magic.0

"Now, let’s move on to the matter of electing the leader of the alliance. Those who wish to nominate themselves, please stand," said the Vantruian merchant.0

At the same moment, the three stood up: the merchant of the Swift Trading Company, the merchant with a nose ring, and the merchant with a mustache. Just as they exchanged glances and opened their mouths to speak, Ian cut in.0

"That will have to wait," Ian interrupted. The furrowed brows of the leaders turned toward him as he added, "Seems there’s a problem."0

"A problem…?" the mustached merchant grumbled, frowning as one of the guards, now wide awake, pulled back the curtains to look outside. However, the meeting room was at the back of the mansion, leaving them with no clear view of the front. Fael, looking at Ian with a mix of disbelief and concern, watched as the guards rushed toward the hallway and into the room opposite.0

"...?"0

Ian followed but paused when Elia grabbed his wrist. He turned to look down at her and chuckled softly. A faint glow of magic swirled in her eyes.0

"It seems the time has come, Sir Ian," she said.0

"... Alright. Let’s see how useful...0