They all call me Great Master

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The bells of Kilg Harbor Docklands rang.

Called a bell, but it was actually a hanging iron plate—a wooden frame for support, with the iron plate suspended by hemp rope, struck with a metal rod when needed.

Upon hearing the clanging, the laborers who had paid their dues could come over to move goods.

The sheriff of Docklands put down the metal rod and stood there waiting.

Behind him stood four soldiers with long swords at their waists and long firearms on their backs.

Soon, a First Mate approached.

The pouch of money in his hand brought a smile to the sheriff's face.

Then, once the pouch was in his pocket, the sheriff turned and left with his soldiers.

Inspection?

What inspection.

These ships from the Ainhars Territory were all commoners with no relation to the Ainhars nobles, no need for an inspection.

Smuggling?

What smuggling.

The commoners were merely carrying some personal belongings; this was a benefit granted by a benevolent captain. As the sheriff of the Docklands, his education did not allow him to strip these items away; that would be an insult to others' dignity.

"Sorted out?"

The captain of the 'Mermaid' asked his First Mate.

"Sorted out!

That bastard doesn't care about any of it once he sees the money."

The First Mate scoffed and spat on the ground by his feet.

"Good.

Unload!"

The captain shouted towards the direction of the ship.

The Chief Sailor sprang into action, opening the ship's hold—crates upon crates of cargo were carried out.

These were their goods for this time.

Heavy, extremely valuable.

Yet these heavy crates felt weighless as the sailors on board lifted them, making one think they were carrying empty crates.

But fully aware of what was inside, the Chief Sailor clicked his tongue.

He fancied himself brave, but even he needed two sailors to help move these crates.

Alone?

He tried and couldn't move them at all.

'Who are they?'

The Chief Sailor couldn't help but ponder as he looked at 'his sailors'.

The First Mate was wondering too.

Unlike the Chief Sailor, the First Mate directly asked the captain.

However, this earned him a stern glare and helplessness from the captain.

"I don't know either.

Don't ask what you shouldn't.

Don't forget our identity."

The captain reminded his First Mate.

"Understood, Captain."

The First Mate nodded immediately.

Besides their identity as smugglers, they also had the title of Windsor Family guards.

However, every procedure indicated they had no relationship with Lady Windsor.

But that was just fooling the ghosts.

With investigation, one would find all sorts of irregularities.

But who would truly investigate?

No one.

"Captain, the unloading's done."

The Chief Sailor called out loudly.

"Alright.

Now, you lads are free to move around.

Just remember to return before tomorrow morning—if you delay, then hope the tavern servant won't throw you into the pigsty!"

The captain of the Mermaid laughed to the sailors.

The sailors laughed heartily.

Then, they scattered in a rush.

Nothing special about that, other fleets were the same.

A tedious and lonely voyage brought them to the bustling Inner Bay—how could they not relax?

Even the procuress on the docks had come to greet them.

Yet, even the most experienced procuress couldn't distinguish hidden figures amidst the numerous crowd.

Blending into the crowd, they quietly slipped into various alleyways.

Then, they proceeded towards St. Joan of Arc Girls' College—

They had already received orders from their superiors.

They waited patiently for ten o'clock to arrive.

Meanwhile, in a hidden chamber within Lion Palace, Dieudonne Hamlet watched his younger brother with interest—bearing a five-point resemblance to their elder brother Gleisa, Dieudonne also had a square face, thick eyebrows, and big eyes, with a high nose. However, unlike Gleisa, Dieudonne's lips were thinner, adding a hint of beauty to his majesty, especially when this second son of the Old Lion narrowed his eyes, retaining his majesty. With his light golden hair cascading down, anyone would praise him as a handsome man.

Previously, Pistri Hamlet had praised his brother countless times.

After all, in comparison to his two elder brothers, his youthful self had neither majesty nor beauty, only youthfulness.

This once filled Pistri with a sense of inferiority.

But now?

The Young Lion only felt anger.

Restrained anger.

Faced with his brother's scrutiny, the Young Lion took a deep breath—

"Let's ally.

Neither of us alone stands a chance against Uncle Baro.

If we ally, I can forgive and forget."

The Young Lion proposed.

Hearing this, Dieudonne laughed.

"Grown up overnight, Pistri.

I thought you'd come up here questioning me with why."

The Young Lion shrugged and asked in mock cooperation.

"Why?"

"Hahaha."

The second son of the Old Lion burst into laughter, tears even forming at the corner of his eyes as he raised a hand to wipe them and motioned for Pistri to sit.

But the Young Lion remained standing.

His gaze swept around them—this was the secret chamber of Lion Palace.

Or more accurately, an unfinished construction site.

An expansion under construction, a secret chamber within Lion Palace.

"When did you become so cautious, Pistri?

Gained power.

Shouldn't that make you bolder?"

The second son of the Old Lion smiled at his brother, full of expectation, mostly encouragement.

But the Young Lion shook his head clearly.

"I'm here to form an alliance,

not to show bravery.

Of course, if brother you do not wish to ally with me, I will have to demonstrate some bravery."

Hearing his brother's words, the second son of the Old Lion grew interested.

He turned his head in the chair to look directly at his brother for the first time.

"Oh?

How will you demonstrate?"

The second son of the Old Lion asked.

"Of course, by defecting to Uncle Baro—unlike you who helped father build Lion Palace and manage finances, I'm just an insignificant person.

Facing my defection, Uncle Baro likely wouldn't care.

Given my status, he would be very pleased to accept.

Of course, brother you could too, as long as you renounce your power and give everything you have to Uncle Baro."

The Young Lion replied.

The second son of the Old Lion gave a long stare, his voice becoming gentle.

"Uncle Baro, once stripped of disguise, is not a merciful person.

A truly insignificant person, only relying on status, could die a horrible death."

The Young Lion didn't retort.

He just called softly—

"Sean, Bonte."

Two figures appeared noiselessly behind the Young Lion.

Instantly, the second son of the Old Lion sat up straight, his face becoming solemn.