After parting ways with Boston, Jovian checked into a nearby hotel to await the good news.
Boston wasted no time. After changing into a fresh set of clothes, he headed to the castle to deliver a letter of introduction. But when he arrived, he was stunned by what he saw.
The gates of the West Lucozian monarchy had already gathered quite a few people, and among them were several figures he immediately recognized. These included Huxley Thatcher, the Commander of the Militia; Warrick Prescott, the Major General of the State Guard; and Percival Wentworth, the Chancellor of the National Academy.
These three were first-ranking officials. In West Lucozia, they were nothing short of kingmakers who wielded immense power and influence.
Warrick, in particular, was two ranks above Boston. Hence, he felt the need to be cautious in his presence and was eager not to make a bad impression.
Alongside these three prominent figures, several second- and third-ranking officials also stood in line at the entrance.
It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that any one of them held more power and influence than Boston.
“My gosh, is today some important day or something? Why else would so many big shots be here at the same time?”
Boston felt a chill run down his spine as unease gripped him. His earlier surge of confidence had completely dissolved into nervous apprehension.
To others, his position as a third-ranking official made him someone of significant standing. But compared to the elites, he was just a minor player at the gates.
Most of the time, he merely showed up to stay on their radar, played the game, and made sure they remembered his name. When it came to having any real influence, he was little more than an onlooker.
At that moment, the red gates of the castle were tightly shut, and everyone was waiting anxiously outside. Several first-ranking officials occasionally peered through the narrow gaps in the door, but the guards didn’t stop them. As long as no one tried to force their way in, they simply acted as if they didn’t see anything.
“What’s the deal with the prince today? We’ve been standing out here forever. Does he really plan on keeping us all waiting?” Warrick muttered, pacing back and forth, visibly anxious.
“Exactly! I’m not as young as I used to be. Standing out here under this blazing sun is giving me a headache. I can’t bear it much longer,” Percival grumbled.
“Alright, gentlemen. The prince said he’s got important business at home today and isn’t taking visitors. You might as well head back,” Huxley urged them.
“Hmph! Telling us to leave? Why aren’t you leaving, then?” Warrick shot back.
“Come on, we’ve all been around the block a few times. Don’t think we don’t see through your games. I see through you but don’t even care enough to call you out.” Percival rolled his eyes.
He had come on Tristan’s behalf to gather intel on the situation. Meanwhile, Huxley had some kind of deal with Nathaniel. And as for Warrick, he owed Matthias a favor.
The three had the same goal, but their loyalties pulled them in different directions.
“Calm down, gentlemen. Let’s face it-the prince has probably figured out why we’re here and wants no part of this mess. Standing around here is getting us nowhere. Why don’t we find a place to grab some food and a few drinks instead?”
Huxley suggested, flashing his usual grin.
