Chapter 282: The Empire Might Be the Biggest Loser (1/2)

Instead of the damp, dark dungeon he imagined, Basil instead found himself confined to a well-decorated room.

Even if he knew all along that Lancaster wouldn’t overstep boundaries since he was still an envoy of the Valla Empire in name, Basil knew that there were no lack of reckless maniacs and imbeciles who lacked a few strings in their heads.

And most of the time, exhorting from ministers, baseless remarks or even ideas that pop up out of nowhere could get the authority to rid themselves of the envoy, who was a thorn in their side.

That was why a successful diplomatic corps would always have their actions praised in various legends.

After all, too few diplomatic corps could be considered successful.

Since this world has no agreement to not kill the messenger, no envoy sent to declare war could return alive.

Now, Basil stroked his beard as he pondered.

His visit to Lancaster was nothing as radical as a call to arms, but there wasn’t any goodwill either— Lancaster leaders would know that very well, just as the mayor didn’t share any kind intentions.

From that perspective, he was now caught in dire danger.

“Damn it, it’s the fault of all those imperial military thugs!”

Basil’s hand shuddered at the thought of his head rolling and accidentally pulled out a few strands of beard, causing him to grit his teeth in the pain. “Boasting about how good they are, only to get done in when Lancaster sent out a single clown! Useless, all of them! I’m telling on them to the emperor if I ever get back!”

He could have thrown his weight around if his escorting knights didn’t get knocked out and himself ushered into the mayor’s residence by the Lancaster city watch, or at least not be confined so easily.

But frustrations remained frustrations. Basil was helpless now, and could only sit and watch as the situation unfolds.

In the very least, he wasn’t dumped unceremoniously into the stockade, meaning that Lancaster was so at odds with the imperial capital that they would go for the throat…

That means he still had a chance…

But even as his thoughts drifted away, someone knocked on his door.

“Who is it?” Basil asked warily.

“My Lord. I’m a footman of this residence. If you don’t mind, the mayor has invited you to the reception room.” The person outside answered. “I would take you there.”

Basil hesitated for a while before opening the door-choosing not to ignore or resist the mayor’s orders.

In the first place, being the type of person whose belief revolved around ‘I won’t have a shot at divine grace since there are so many others’, Basil wasn’t too passionate about religion and went about his Saturday mass casually.

That was why his body wouldn’t be divinely blessed, and he would be killed with a single punch.

He really wouldn’t take that risk.

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